(no subject)

Jan 28, 2011 22:27

Only in the too-bright world of his dreams does he see grass. It has been so long since he has felt it too but his brain helpfully guesses the sensation for him; it's slightly damp, cold, and crushes easily under bare feet. In the dream he walks, head tall, shoulder straight and arms hanging loosely by his side. A steadfast gaze of determination has set into his eyes and gleams with purpose. After traversing mountains and moors or hours, days, centuries, he comes across a shopping arcade with high-domed stained-glass ceilings and shop windows glinting silver.

The checkered floor of the arcade is dizzying as he races through it, his heart straining high in his throat.

***

He wakes into gloomy darkness, the whir of a floor fan and the whining rumble of traffic on the street below. His body is covered in thick layers of sweat and his mouth is dry. His eyelids feel heavy and with his body still tense and scared, he drifts back into an uneasy sleep. The sun rises just as he begins another dream.

***

The second time he wakes, it is night-time again and there is someone sitting on the edge of his bed. They watch him lazily, amused, and wait patiently for recognition. It is clear from the way they lounge against the wall with both feet propped up on the bed that they've been waiting for a long time and are content to wait even more.

fragments

Previous post Next post
Up