Post by Lyall British on Feb 18, 2012 11:56:53 GMT -5
He started having this dream when he was working the in monastery. It was almost always the same, with small strange deviations that he found he would understand or stumble in confusion with. It was a field at night and the grass was tall, its height to his knees and sometimes higher. Sometimes it seemed to whisper in the wind. The world has a glow to it without the light being obvious, as if everything had a small inner light even in the dark. When he bent down to look at the grass he found that it appeared not as grass but like slivers of paper cut out of a book in some strange imitation of grass. His hands reached out, plucking some of the strands of grass and he he pulled it forward, reading what was on the grass.
On the other side of that door, Delilah, covered in shawls and a hood, hunched over and playing Crone, glared hungrily. "COME ON, LET US IN."
Lyall stared at it and said softly to himself, "Delilah." When he said the name he realized he didn't recognize it at all. Maybe this was that coworker Emily... Lucy... Emily had at the place she had been. The shred of paper fell out of his hand and he looked at the sky. This was normally when he--
Sounds in the room slapped his face and he sat up. Quickly he swiped his glasses off of the nightstand and got to his feet. Lyall looked like he had experience being ambushed, he did not stay stunned. Instead, he pulled his drying shirt off of the curtain, paused like his breath was caught, folded it and put it in the drawer. His eyes went over to Emily as he pulled his hat on over his head, "Is this my trouble or your's? I don't know whose is whose in this town." Shirt, shoes, on in a flash as the door jumped, heaved and pounded with a shriek behind the door as if posessed. He went under his pillow and jammed it into his coat and looked to Emily, eyebrows arched, "You're quick on your feet, right? I can't get caught." His eyes went down to his wrist where the embedded watch was as he frowned at the time.
To the window, he threw it open into the alleyway of trash and trash-like people. People just like him, mostly. He grabbed the wretched old curtain, the one that told stories of people smoking and having sex and he threw one end out the window and looked at Emily, "Put the dresser against the door, will you? Let's buy some time." Lyall wasn't normally thought of as the handy one. The one that knew what he was doing and kept his cool. It just so happened that he understood this situation, which was one of the precious self-empowering moments in life. Maybe no one would have to break a bone. While she presumably was working on moving the dresser, he shut the window on the curtain that now hung from the window like a cloth tongue, pinned into place. He twisted the half-rotted metal latch and then used his elbow to break the glass. It shattered with regret, choking glass both ways in its mouth.
"Come on, then." He tossed his bag out the window and then looked at her, "I'm sorry." It was an apology without remorse. He quite nearly was shoving her out the window and called, "You grabbed the curtain, right? That's what it's there for, you know. To uh... keep the fall from being so rough..." he looked through the broken glass window to see if she had caught it like a drop out from a nest and slid down to a not-so-lethal-but-probably-not-safe fall.
On the other side of that door, Delilah, covered in shawls and a hood, hunched over and playing Crone, glared hungrily. "COME ON, LET US IN."
Lyall stared at it and said softly to himself, "Delilah." When he said the name he realized he didn't recognize it at all. Maybe this was that coworker Emily... Lucy... Emily had at the place she had been. The shred of paper fell out of his hand and he looked at the sky. This was normally when he--
Sounds in the room slapped his face and he sat up. Quickly he swiped his glasses off of the nightstand and got to his feet. Lyall looked like he had experience being ambushed, he did not stay stunned. Instead, he pulled his drying shirt off of the curtain, paused like his breath was caught, folded it and put it in the drawer. His eyes went over to Emily as he pulled his hat on over his head, "Is this my trouble or your's? I don't know whose is whose in this town." Shirt, shoes, on in a flash as the door jumped, heaved and pounded with a shriek behind the door as if posessed. He went under his pillow and jammed it into his coat and looked to Emily, eyebrows arched, "You're quick on your feet, right? I can't get caught." His eyes went down to his wrist where the embedded watch was as he frowned at the time.
To the window, he threw it open into the alleyway of trash and trash-like people. People just like him, mostly. He grabbed the wretched old curtain, the one that told stories of people smoking and having sex and he threw one end out the window and looked at Emily, "Put the dresser against the door, will you? Let's buy some time." Lyall wasn't normally thought of as the handy one. The one that knew what he was doing and kept his cool. It just so happened that he understood this situation, which was one of the precious self-empowering moments in life. Maybe no one would have to break a bone. While she presumably was working on moving the dresser, he shut the window on the curtain that now hung from the window like a cloth tongue, pinned into place. He twisted the half-rotted metal latch and then used his elbow to break the glass. It shattered with regret, choking glass both ways in its mouth.
"Come on, then." He tossed his bag out the window and then looked at her, "I'm sorry." It was an apology without remorse. He quite nearly was shoving her out the window and called, "You grabbed the curtain, right? That's what it's there for, you know. To uh... keep the fall from being so rough..." he looked through the broken glass window to see if she had caught it like a drop out from a nest and slid down to a not-so-lethal-but-probably-not-safe fall.