Tuesday, 24 September 2013

Writing - short story

As a writing exercise it is good to accept a challenge and yesterday Readwave came up with a no more than 800 word story on the subject of dreams. As I always try to do in something like this I write the story. There is very little in the way of editing because the words are directly from me untampered with and if you like virginal. The competition is still open if you fancied having a go.

Was it really a dream?

The room was quiet; there was no sound from outside in the street, not a cat meowing or dog barking. There was only the noise of my own breathing as I read ‘Icon’ by Forsyth, I think. Then without noticeable transition, the room assumed a sort of sepia hue in the orange of the street light. I could just about make out the doorframe but not the walls, as the light appeared brightest in the centre of the room. The wooden cross above the bed was black. The bed was made, but empty, and there was a table with books and boxes at the foot.
            I appeared to be in the air somehow, floating feet above the scene and yet unaware of my body. Everything was silent now, no breathing, nothing! It was comfortable, not cold or hot, neither hard nor soft, I was just there waiting. It felt like waiting and yet I wasn’t in need of anything. What could I be waiting for? I closed my eyes and opened them again willing the view to go away. Why would I want to do that?
            The table at the foot of the bed and everything on it was in the monochrome, sepia condition which, although I was looking at it, I didn’t fully understand. As I watched the table its contents began to change. It was as if an invisible force was drawing the objects on the table upwards towards my floating form. The rectangular books and various shaped boxes were stretching their form into shapes that appeared like the tower blocks of Vancouver or Seattle, stretching taller and more inexorably to where I was positioned. The spaces between like the normally busy streets but now they were dark and silent. Everything was cuboid.
            I looked on this scene from my elevated position and felt confusion. When you are sitting on a chair in a room you can sense certain things. You feel temperature differences between the chair, the air around you and anything you touch. There are sensations of odours, sounds, brightness and more but not for me in this wedge of time in which I appeared to be stuck.
            I became aware of staring hard, unblinkingly at the view and realised my eyes were becoming watery. I knew that I was going to blink and for the first time since beginning to float there was a spike of sensation – fear. It was the fear of falling but I thought that I would be ok as I was above the bed. My eyes began to shut and I came to a decision. I would blink as quickly as I could. The next view was very different!
            As I tried to grasp the detail of the previous view I saw the towers rapidly shrinking back to their usual form of books, an Egyptian trinket box and a round watch box. No matter how I tried I couldn’t regain the curious view. I blinked again and the shock was tangible. Everything was blue and flecked with white but the forms were shapeless, washed away by the sea. There were waves but no sound, waves but no smell and waves but no movement. It was just blueness and a touch of white.
            Something was messing with my mind. I opened my eyes and was lying on my side with the book I’d been reading, closed on the bed the page lost. It’s astonishing what cheese will do to the mind!

God Bless