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by Sleeve
Rated: E · Other · Fantasy · #1501119
The dreams are eggshells.
The edge of the dream rotted and decayed and poured forth voluminous amounts of sands onto a rolling, hot sea. I was standing with her by a frock of palm trees, as people swam and talked and looked slowly at the falling sun.

I was hit by a horrible block of disconnection, as I knew that we were alone in a world where nobody knew us. I smiled at her, but the wind was merely blowing and I was attempting to mask my fear and wonder at the present situation. We were dressed like aliens, myself in a black sweater pulled over a white one, and her in an ornate purple sweater. The heat did not affect us, because we were still behind glass.

Behind us, a miniature harbour bobbed in the hot water of a bath-tub cove. The remnants of a half formed house hung over the water, like mist, but I blew it away and more formed..

(A door is revealed, followed by a dock, and a swinging log, hanging from ropes that ascended into outer space)

It seems stupid (I said) to be here and not indulge in anything that is falling out of my sick brain. The swing, therefore, is perfect.

(They sit on a swing.)
We sit on the swing. The levels of the water were just perfect, it skimmed my toes beautifully. I place my right hand on her waist. My head is ultimately full with the haze and steam of a hearty euphoria. We swing back in forth in the heavy air, but the house is gaining momentum!
Gosh! The floors appear around us. A man in a black trench coat frowns down on us. His head is pale and smooth like an egg, and his eyebrows had been removed. His jaw is square like a horrid bully, but he stays and he watches with a deep understanding and patience. I grow worried, and so does she. She tenses. Quite clearly, he wants a ride as well! At the same time, I was not one to have our date (or our something) ruined by a man of utter impatience. However, it grew too much.

(They get up off the swing)
Perhaps it’s not a good idea at all, because we walked into the door of the appearing house. We were on a bare road at that point. The sky had gotten lazy and refused to appear. The horizon was sharp and forgiving and ruled this place. It was a game still, I was convincing her. She shivered. We were attacked by strands of metal with a nasty bite. They formed legs and marched towards us with a silent and mechanical vengeance. They mocked us and nipped at our feet. They smiled and laughed until the last possible moment when they lacerated us. They dressed themselves benignly in black silk and then threw off the disguises as they bit us. We were bombarded by screams and welts and shattered shouts of clashing metal. I stomped on a few, and white blood streamed out of their teeth.

This is still fun! (says I). We will collect their carcasses and build a friendly, metallic home for ourselves where we can raise our dreams..

© Copyright 2008 Sleeve (sleeve89 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1501119-The-Cove