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Rated: 13+ · Other · Fantasy · #1974524
The first scene of my new book, Dreamweaver: Initium. Revising to Self-Publish!
“We are all connected.”

Princess Pro Izumi walks into a huge room of golden walls. The glow of her tiara accentuates her olive skin while her purple gown hugs her slight curves. She smiles under the luminescent light of the floating orbs near the ceiling, recognizing the voice of who just spoke.

The princess replies, “I see you found your way into my mind again, Dreamweaver.”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Ironically, I can’t clear my mind unless I step out of it.”

Each golden wall has a huge mirror that stands at nine feet tall. The Dreamweaver glances at himself in the mirror but remains immersed in thought. He is nothing but a silhouette of raw power. Sitting on a throne like chair in the middle of the room, he keeps his head rested on a bulky glove that covers his left hand. A silver string of holographic crystals seems to float around his neck and a band of crystal covers his eyes. The back of his right hand bears the Crest of Avalon; an intricate symbol that dully glows in the light around him. The center of the symbol is in intricate keyhole, adorned with letters from an ancient language. Spikes come out of the sides of the keyhole and shape themselves into wings. Four circles full of runes shine directly below the keyhole. He glances at the symbol and closes his eyes for a moment. One deep breath later, he feels a bit more relaxed.

“I did some research since the last time you were here,” the princess says. “They’ve been drilling me to take some initiative in my royal classes and I ran into something that reminded me of you.”

“Oh? What is that?”

“Morpheus!” she exclaims. “The deity of sleep and dreams.”

The Dreamweaver replies, “…I don’t follow what you mean.”

“You walk into people’s dreams while you sleep. You wander almost aimlessly, reflecting on life and helping people through nightmares. Nevertheless, when people wake up, even if they remember the dream…they do not know who helped them. They could not even find you if they wanted to because you are a 3-D silhouette! Morpheus was a roman deity that could shape shift and walk into people’s dreams.”

“Oh. Well, I can’t shape shift when I’m awake. I don’t have half the power I do when I’m awake.”

“You’re just proving my point!” Pro exclaims, “Your control over memories, your power of astral projection…all things you can do while you’re dreaming. You’re the Dreamweaver for Pete’s sake. How is you being tied to a roman myth farfetched?”

He laughs, “Sorry. There’s a lot on my mind so I guess I’m in a difficult mood.”

The Princess pulls a wooden chair from the wall and places it near the Dreamweaver. She sits down and crosses her right leg over her left knee.

“So, vent!” she says. “You hear me vent all the time about all of my princess problems. Talk about yours.”

“Well, it’s all centered on what I said when you came in. We are all connected.”

“Why do you say that?”

“The way I walk through dreams proves it. I walk through dreams by walking through the doors of people I’m personally acquainted with, and then walking through the mind of someone else they are acquainted with afterwards. Our minds are like a world in themselves that most people don’t get to fully experience, but all of our minds, our worlds, are connected.”

“The whole six degrees of separation thing. I get that. Why does that bother you?”

“Cause there’s also three degrees of influence. Things that you do can affect your friends, the friends of your friends, and their set of friends too. It’s even worse for you, being the princess of the Izumi Queendom and all.”

The princess shrugs in agreement.

“We’re all connected,” he continues. “So if I screw up…if I don’t fulfill my destiny, do you know how many lives that can affect?”

“Oh gosh. You’re thinking too hard on it, Dreamweaver. You don’t even fully understand what your destiny is yet.”

“True. I don’t even want to know though honestly. I just want to live a normal life and be happy.”

“I know,” the princess says. “That’s why you take off the necklace and glove every night and leave it here in my mind. You lose all memories of your power and your destiny. You have the chance to be normal.”

“Exactly.”

The Princess nods again silently, looking away. The Dreamweaver sighs and adjusts himself in his chair before asking, “What aren’t you saying?”

“I want to meet you in real life,” she says. “I want to be able to thank you in person.”

“This is real life. You know you can’t thank me though.”

“You know what I meant! There are legends about you! You should be living amongst royalty!”

“Maybe I am,” Dream laughs. “You don’t even know what I look like in the outside world.”

“Then show me!” she demands.  “I’ve been helping keep your secret. I’m the princess, dammit! Why can’t I know?”

“I’m not the same guy when I’m awake. Knowledge can really change someone.”

“Still, you’ve saved my life on numerous occasions…I want to thank you in person.”

“Don’t mention it. No need to thank me.”

“Why do you fight being known so much?”

“You know why. Some people may want to thank me but many more want me dead. I can’t live a normal life if I’m constantly on the run. Besides, I promised my father I’d stay low too. There’s too much at stake and I keep slipping up. I saved this cute girl today before I got here and she asked me my name. I told her and then ran off as soon as I realized my mistake. This silhouette disguise doesn’t even matter if people start learning my name! Too many people can get hurt because of me.”

The princess mumbles in disappointment, “Okay, I guess.”

“You know, the worse part about having the destiny of a hero is that people expect you to do it. I love helping people, but no one cares if it’s your job. I want to help people without them thinking I did it because I was supposed to or for any attention. I don’t need any reward, I just want to do the right thing and save this world from itself.”

“I know the government in the Izumi Queendom has gotten slightly corrupt but is the rest of the world bad too?”

The Dreamweaver stands up, “It’s worse.”

He begins to walk away while cautiously looking from side to side. The princess raises an eyebrow in confusion before getting up to follow him.

“Where are you going?” she asks. “I haven’t seen you in a while and you just got here.”

“You don’t feel that?”

“…feel what?”

A dense black fog begins to set within the room of gold. The princess feels shivers down her spine. The crystal band around the Dreamweaver’s eyes bursts with white light while the symbol on the Dreamweaver’s hand comes to life with magenta static. A scream escapes the lungs of the princess as she feels two strong arms grip around her body and pulls her to the ground. An enormous black metallic spike rips through the ground where she once stood. The princess sighs in relief as she realizes that the person holding her is a clone of the Dreamweaver.

“I really forgot you can make clones of yourself,” she says. “Warn me next time!”

“There was no time,” he replies. “There still isn’t. I need you to make a promise to me.”

“What is it?”

“If you ever meet me in real life, remember that you owe me nothing.”

The clone wrapped around the princess fades to nothing. She gets up in slight alarm.

“Why are you talking like that?” she asks. “I demand for you to tell me what’s going on!”

“…It was a pleasure, Princess Pro.”

Without another word, the Dreamweaver lurches towards the door. Magenta static flails wildly around him as he stomps the ground with all of his strength. Magenta spikes of light erupt out of the ground in front of him followed by a shriek of pain.

“You BITCH!” a female voice shouts. “Why the hell are you always in my way?”

A slender girl appears behind the spikes with fair skin and a cloud of darkness shrouding her figure. She holds her left arm in pain while blood trickles over her hand onto the ground. The room becomes silent. The princess is frozen with fear and the Dreamweaver anxious for the next attack.

“Who are you?” he bellows.

“So it’s true. Even in this form, the Master of Memories forgot me. Last year must have really scarred you.”

The magenta static around the Dreamweaver’s right arm becomes more erratic. He says, “Give me answers or I’ll take them. Who. Are. You.”

“Take them?” she bursts into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. “You think your little legs can catch me?”

The next moment astounds her. The Dreamweaver is suddenly suspended in the air above her with bolts of magenta energy surrounding his fists. She jumps backwards at the last moment, leaving Dream to slam his fist into the ground.

“A gentleman wouldn’t hit a lady,” she says.

“You’ve yet to show me any class,” the Dreamweaver snarls. “WHO are you?”

The woman lets herself fall backwards and a black doorway opens around her. She falls inside and the Dreamweaver stands up to recollect his thoughts.

She can walk through people’s dreams just as easily as I can. I need to find out who this is before she tries to hurt anyone else!

“What are you going to do?” The princess calls out. “You know this is probably a trap…”

“I need to make sure she can’t try to hurt you again. Remember your promise to me.”

The Dreamweaver lunges through the doorway and it closes behind him. For a moment, there is nothing but darkness.  The thick blanket of black is ripped apart by the flash of a camera. A series of flashes erupt through the darkness as the Dreamweaver suddenly finds himself in the middle of a crowd.

Ah, crap. Dream thinks, pushing past the parade of excited bystanders. Whoever’s dream I followed that girl into is dreaming about paparazzi…how am I supposed to find answers in this crowd?

A scream echoes through the air followed by a sea of gasps and muffled shrieks.

“Mira Akise has been stabbed!” a man’s voice shouts. “Someone help!”

Dream shoves his way through the crowd and stumbles onto a long red carpet. A girl of Chinese descent lies on the carpet, sprawled in a building pool of her own blood. The barrage of flashes from the surrounding cameras dwindles as the Dreamweaver curses under his breath.

“Where is the girl that did this to you?” he asks, kneeling near her.

“I just wanted to be a star,” she mumbles. “I didn’t want to die like one.”

“It isn’t over, just tell me—”

A metallic spike of darkness tears through the red carpet and pierces Mira’s chest. She chokes on the sudden shock of the pain. The crowd’s faces become blurry and they slowly fade away.  The Dreamweaver looks up slightly to see the girl with the smoky shroud of darkness floating a few yards above Mira’s body.

“You asked who I was,” she says. “I’d like to be known as the Duchess.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What? No ‘Hi, Duchess, I’m the Dreamweaver, nice to meet you’? I’m starting to think your gentlemen routine was all an act.”

“People that die in their dreams die in real life!” The Dreamweaver shouts, “You just killed her for no reason!”

“Everything happens for a reason, dear.”

Another doorway opens out of thin air behind her and she falls into it. The Dreamweaver leaps into the darkness. Their surroundings are overwritten with a clear asphalt road. The sky is riddled with the lights of the Aurora Borealis and the outskirts of the road are covered with lush grass. The Dreamweaver sees a man ahead lying on the asphault road with his limbs outstretched. The man shows off a goofy smile and begins to drag his arms up and down as if he was trying to make a snow angel.

Seriously? The Dreamweaver thinks, why do people have such weird dreams?

He walks forward and lightly taps the man’s shoulder with his foot.

“Huh?” The man says. “Who are you, shadow man?”

“I’m the Dreamweaver. I’m here to save your life. Get up.”

“No, sir. I love this! No walking shadow is going to boss me around, even if this is a dream!”

“Please don’t be difficult. I’m trying to help you but there’s someone here that will hurt you instead.”

“Are you threatening me, shadow man?”

“Dammit, this is annoying…” the Dreamweaver mumbles.

A vintage 1969 Dodge Charger zooms into view, hurtling itself down the asphalt road. The Duchess smiles from the driver seat, slamming her foot on the gas pedal and letting her shroud of darkness coat the car.

“You can’t scare me, shadow man!” the man shouts, waving his arms against the floor excitedly.

“Get up! Your life is in danger!”

“LALALALALALALALA!” the man says, sticking his fingers in his ears. “I CAN’T HEAR YOUR LIES! I WILL NOT BE MOVED!”

I can’t have another person die on my watch, the Dreamweaver thinks. There’s only one place I can take her.

The car zooms towards the both of them at top speed. The Dreamweaver sprints forward with bolts of the magenta static trailing behind him. He leaps upwards with his feet forward as the car’s hood goes under him. He slams his feet through the windshield of the car and it swerves sharply to the left. The Dreamweaver grabs the throat of the Duchess as a doorway opens up behind the front seats of the car. He drags her through the doorway as the car topples over and spirals through the air. They fall into a brief spell of pitch black before landing on an extravagant marble floor. The Dreamweaver lands on his feet while the Duchess slams into the ground face-first. Before he can relish in his victory, a telekinetic force slams into his chest. A large white bell materializes and shatters in front of him at that instant. He falls to his knees winded and dumbfounded by the surprise attack. Crystal towers scattered across the vast marble floor shine under the bright rays of the sun. He sees three men in front of him. One helps the Duchess up to her feet before adjusting the full moon lenses of his glasses.

“So this is the mind of the Dreamweaver,” the old man says. “Marble floors representing equality and crystal towers for hope. I’m not surprised. If only I had a proper name to the boy who holds such a grand title.”

“Doctor Setto-han Shiziki,” The Dreamweaver mumbles, holding his stomach in pain. “Royal Advisor to Queen Priya Izumi…you’re the one with the grand title.”

“I should of made this conclusion before hand,” the doctor replies. “Your recent meetings with Princess Pro in her dreams has probably alerted you to who I am.”

The Dreamweaver snarls in response, “Either that or I watch the news, dumbass.”

“Sorry if I don’t expect fifteen year old boys to be worried about the current events of the Queendom’s royal land. Do you recognize the other two men with me?”

“His memory is shot,” the Duchess intervenes before the Dreamweaver can answer. “He doesn’t even remember me.”

“Maybe you’re just not memorable,” one of the other man says with a smug grin.

“Screw you, Armani.”

“This must be confusing to the poor kid,” the last man says, walking forward. “I almost feel bad for winding him if he doesn’t remember why he has to die.”

“Stop being so goddamn melodramatic, Inju,” Armani snaps. “You’re supposed to be a Majestic. Get your crap together and let’s just get this done.”

What the hell is going on? The Dreamweaver thinks. Why can’t I move?

He looks at Armani and his heart starts to race even faster.

The symbol on his right hand matches mine…This man has the Crest of Avalon! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?! I don’t even have the strength to speak. I can feel my body being drained...I don’t even think I can keep up my disguise for long.

The Dreamweaver’s silhouette form begins to crack but he holds on with all of his strength.

They can’t know what I look like in the real world. I can’t let that happen!

“You’re probably wondering what’s wrong with your body,” Inju says. “Some pretty strong magic is rendering you useless. Your mind and body are now too weak to even use your abilities. I made a large sacrifice for this magic but it is obviously worth it. The fact that you’re still able to breathe is a testament to your power.”

“So now we’re gonna kiss his ass?” Armani mumbles. “Screw this.”

Magenta static seems to swallow Armani’s right arm. He lurches forward as the energy dramatically increases with every step closer. Armani swings with all of his strength but collides with a golden wall.

“Idiot,” the doctor mumbles. “The Dreamweaver is still protected.”

“Damn straight,” a female voice echoes.

A woman materializes out of the wall and slams her fist into Armani’s face. Her red and gold skirt flows in the wind of her momentum along with her red blazer.

Armani snaps, “You weren’t invited, bitch.”

The woman’s knee slams into his face before he hits the marble floor in pain.

“Watch your mouth around me,” she replies. “Who’s next?”

The doctor says, “It’s been a long time, Essence. I see you’re still protecting the Dreamweaver.”

“Was I supposed to stop?” Essence replies, punt kicking Armani in the stomach.

“You’re a little late to the party,” the Duchess chimes. “The Dreamweaver is living his final hour.”

“Look little girl, you may be new to the how things work around here but leave the big talk for the grown folks.”

“Whatever,” the Duchess mumbles, turning away.

“Why the hell do you keep trying to fight these battles on your own?” Essence snaps at the Dreamweaver. “What did they hit you with?”

“I’m sorry, Essence…” The Dreamweaver slowly drawls. “There was a white bell or something. I feel my power leaving me.”

His necklace of crystal falls of his neck and shatters as it hits the ground. His glove falls of his hand as well and his silhouette disguise begins to fade away.

“You’re going to regret this, Inju!” Essence says. “So will the rest of you.”

“I’d like to see that,” Inju says with a laugh. “The Dreamweaver is too weak to wake himself up. He will die here in his dream and that’s not something you can stop.”

“WAKE UP!” a faint echo ripples through the skies within the Dreamweaver’s domain. “WHY ARE YOU SUCH A HEAVY SLEEPER?!”

A faint smile spreads across the Dreamweaver’s face as he collapses to the floor.

I’ve never been so happy to hear Amy’s voice in my life. She’s trying to wake me up!

Essence says, “That’s your friend’s voice, right? Amy?”

He nods silently with the last of his strength.

“Time to wake up. I’ll clean up this mess.”

He barely hears Essence as everything fades to black. He feels his memories being stripped from his mind as he falls through an endless pit of darkness. Death’s cold embrace creeps into his veins but he shakes off the feeling.

I’m not dying today.

© Copyright 2014 Jomo Farrier (epicpresence at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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