06-18-2008, 12:13 AM
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Caverns in the northernmost areas of the Dampwoods.
It was an old dream now.
A field of dandelions buzzing with fireflies in the sinking sunset. A train track separated it from him. On his own side was barren ground, cracked dirt, and withering plantlife screaming of drought. Just an empty train track between them, smooth steel, nails, and wood. He leap over it in all of a second. But he knew that as soon as he even started to approach, the train would come at some breakneck speed and either block off the golden field or kill him where he stood. It had happened before. So he sat where he was, gazing quietly towards the dying sun, hypnotized by things he had always wanted and could never have. It was like sitting in Aladdin's cave of wonders and knowing that the moment he tried to touch anything, he would lose everything.
There was a shadow across the train tracks too though, a silhouette of someone he couldn't recognize anymore. The light was harsh against his form and there was nothing beyond the mere shape. He didn't squint anymore though, didn't call out like a child lost in the park, didn't say anything at all. Strangers and illusions, that was all. The yellow sunset had turned orange had turned red. When he blinked, the other would be gone, or he had never been there at all. It was an old dream now. Laruku wasn't going to jump out in front of the train anymore though. He stood up and the roaring on the tracks began. He turned around and woke up.
The cave was dark, and the air was moist. Outside, the rain was coming down more gently than it had been before, beating softly against the grass and stone. Thunder continued to rumble quietly in the distance. Perhaps it would start coming down harder again in the morning. Perhaps the storm would move away instead, though it seemed like it had been raining forever already. It didn't matter. He rolled over and stared at the back wall of the small cavern. He never used to dream, and the nothingness that had come with sleep had always been a welcomed refuge. Now there were images and ideas and memories instead, and difference between consciousness and unconsciousness became almost negligent as a result. He felt the same whether he was awake or sleep.
There were no echos in his skull tonight though, and he found the silence more disturbing than he probably should have. The rain was peaceful. The rain was deafening. The rain was the only thing there, and he was lonely.
It was an old dream now.
A field of dandelions buzzing with fireflies in the sinking sunset. A train track separated it from him. On his own side was barren ground, cracked dirt, and withering plantlife screaming of drought. Just an empty train track between them, smooth steel, nails, and wood. He leap over it in all of a second. But he knew that as soon as he even started to approach, the train would come at some breakneck speed and either block off the golden field or kill him where he stood. It had happened before. So he sat where he was, gazing quietly towards the dying sun, hypnotized by things he had always wanted and could never have. It was like sitting in Aladdin's cave of wonders and knowing that the moment he tried to touch anything, he would lose everything.
There was a shadow across the train tracks too though, a silhouette of someone he couldn't recognize anymore. The light was harsh against his form and there was nothing beyond the mere shape. He didn't squint anymore though, didn't call out like a child lost in the park, didn't say anything at all. Strangers and illusions, that was all. The yellow sunset had turned orange had turned red. When he blinked, the other would be gone, or he had never been there at all. It was an old dream now. Laruku wasn't going to jump out in front of the train anymore though. He stood up and the roaring on the tracks began. He turned around and woke up.
The cave was dark, and the air was moist. Outside, the rain was coming down more gently than it had been before, beating softly against the grass and stone. Thunder continued to rumble quietly in the distance. Perhaps it would start coming down harder again in the morning. Perhaps the storm would move away instead, though it seemed like it had been raining forever already. It didn't matter. He rolled over and stared at the back wall of the small cavern. He never used to dream, and the nothingness that had come with sleep had always been a welcomed refuge. Now there were images and ideas and memories instead, and difference between consciousness and unconsciousness became almost negligent as a result. He felt the same whether he was awake or sleep.
There were no echos in his skull tonight though, and he found the silence more disturbing than he probably should have. The rain was peaceful. The rain was deafening. The rain was the only thing there, and he was lonely.