08-04-2009, 11:17 PM
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halifax!
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halifax!
Warren woke suddenly, feverish and nauseated from a dream which had felt more like reality. Gulping lungfuls of cool morning air, the hybrid struggled to a sitting position on the thin mattress and wiped the cold sweat out of his eyes. The half-digested food in his stomach threatened to spill out and make a reappearance, but he swallowed the bile hard. Warren gripped the edge of his bed. His nausea and terror from the dream was slowly being washed away by his frustration and anger. Why did he keep having such dreams? Such nightmares? The gray man got up from the bed, the rusty springs squealing happily for relief, and crossed the room in several long strides. Now, even in the darkness he could make his way through the shack. Much of his time was spent there, so he grew accustomed to it quickly. The walls which were usually a comfort to the loner now felt smothering. He reached the front door quickly and wrenched it open, crossing the porch and descending the few steps down the stairs in a matter of seconds. Fueled by his frustration and fear, the hybrid moved with all speed and no purpose out of the forest. As the sky began to gray with first light, Warren was surprised to find himself in the old human city. Eventually his frenzy began to fade. Slowing his pace, he walked quietly past the strange buildings, not seeing them. The scenes of his dream wandered through his mind of their own accord and made his heart heavy. The dreams, the memories, had a vicious hold on him. They were stronger than him, he feared. He couldn't accept the past, couldn't forgive himself for it, so the memories spitefully manifested themselves in his subconscious. That's how it seemed to the tall hybrid. Stopping in the middle of the street, Warren raised his head and looked to the gray, overcast sky. |
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