Thursday, January 22, 2015

Despite the Darkness #4 - The Dreamer has awakened...

The story continues and we begin to get a glimpse of something...

He found himself alone in the bathroom again, the image of a guilty man staring back at him. Even when he dropped his own gaze, the accusatory eyes bore down on him and the scream started to build in intensity. A wolf howled off in the distance, matching pitch with the terrible scream.

Then he felt something tough his hand. The touch was soft but it sent a jolt through his body. Jolted, he searched the whole room with his eyes, seeing no one, he then stepped out of the bathroom but both Jan and Isaiah were lying in their beds. He was suddenly very uneasy and was about to go back into the bathroom when Isaiah called to him, “Dad?”

“Yeah Izai?”

“Did you hear the wolf?”

“I did, you scared?”

“A little.”

“It’ll be o.k., we’re inside and the sooner we get to sleep the sooner it’ll be morning. You’re safe.”

“You are dad, you’re safe.” The boy said it with enough certainty that it caught his breath.

“Uh… thanks Izai.” He searched for something else to say, but instead settled on giving his son a kiss on the head and patting his shoulder. “Sleep.”

He slid under the covers and brushed his wife’s leg. She moved it away.

“Night,” he said lamely and waited for a response. None came.

He turned the light out and they were now separated by darkness too.

At first there was a doorway. It was roughhewn timber set into mud daubed walls. A sheep waited patiently at his side. He stooped to its level, gave it a gentle pet, and looked at it with admiration.

The blood applied poorly to course surface. The brush had to be applied several times to fully cover. The dark red dripped from the lintel and pooled on the ground.

The walls were only a few foot high in this section, but just up ahead they were raised much higher. He ran his fingers across freshly cut stone, expertly crafted to offer no handhold or seam. The sun cast golden rays across the white stone.

Seven times he walked around it, as darkness fell, his hand on the wall, leaving only at the gates.

The boat rocked in the gentle waves of the sea. The coastline was wilderness except for a small beach where a campfire burned. Before the boat could ground against the sand he fell into the water and stumbled towards land. Fish cooked over the hungry flames.

A white lamb rested beside the fire; it locked eyes with him.

I don't remember of I mentioned that this story is a horror story with a strong supernatural bent to it, but its a horror story with a strong supernatural bent to it. Dreams are a pretty powerful way for the supernatural to connect to the natural, so they factor quite a bit in this story. I was striving to write a dream sequence that can easily be forgettable but have that lingering foreboding a good prophetic dream seems to have. I tried to emulate Biblical dreams like those Joseph and Daniel interpreted; seemingly innocuous with simple iconography but troubling to the dreamer because of its deeper meaning. I wonder who has similar dreams in this story? Hmmm.... Let me know what you think of my dream and of course please share.

Tuesday, January 13, 2015

I'm in a coffee house and I just spilled my words... Despite the Darkness #3

...I should probably get a rag. The story continues, unless you just started reading - in which case the story started elsewhere and you need to catch up.

They traveled back down the pass, more slowly now that the road was thoroughly covered with snow. The sign for Canyon Creek was miraculously not hidden by snow as he feared it would be, so they were able to turn up the narrow road leading off into the hillside. 

The single lane track that meandered its way alongside Canyon Creek the creek to Canyon Creek the town was covered by a layer of snow that looked to have been freshly plowed yet tree boughs hung low and dropped their snowy payloads as the van brushed against them. Jan’s teeth were on edge anytime they scrapped past another branch that’s wooden finger scratched the length of their silver van.

“You’re scratching the car,” she offered after a multi-fingered attack had no doubt peeled all the paint from the left side.

He was about to retort when the lights of Canyon Creek (the town) came into view. It was a mixture of single story buildings of either cinderblocks or logs lining the left-hand side; while the right-hand side was two or three chalet style homes built around an open field with baseball backstop. The lights were on in most of the buildings, but they shone the brightest in what the signed heralded as The Dambuster. He parked and the three got out, stretching sore legs. He led them inside and they were instantly greeted with a loud “CLOSE THE DOOR!” from the entirety of the room’s occupants who were intently transfixed on the screen against the far wall. Dave Kreig was taking a snap from the center in what looked like the first quarter of the game. They were already trailing.

“Lola! Guest,” barked a voice from the back, only a white hat, dark eyes, and moustache visible through the window to the kitchen. Lola, a skinny young girl in her twenties got up from the table where the occupants were clearly saddened to lose her company.

“Welcome to The Dambuster, sit wherever you like.”

“Where’s the restroom,” Jan asked and was directed to a dark hallway past the kitchen.

“I’m guessing you tried going over the pass.”

“You’d guess right.” He smiled and took the offered menu. “The officer at the roadblock said we might be able to find a place to stay the night here.”

“I’ll have Stu come over and give you the rates. You might not want to stay after hearing how much it’ll cost you.” She laughed and it filled that little corner of the room with some much needed light.

“I’m sure.” He looked at the game and cocked his brow. “Didn't they already play this game?”

“Oh sure, but we don’t get reception up here so Pete has to record it and then drive it up. You’re not going to spoil the score are you,” she said with a mischievous smile and twinkle in her eye.

“No ma’am.” He raised his hands in false surrender.

“You let me know when you’re ready to order, o.k.?”

The girl turned and walked slowly back to the gathered throng. He watched her go, appreciating her “uniform” and the way it accentuated her figure, and then turned back; his son’s eyes were watching him closely. He cleared his throat and looked down at his menu.

Jan returned and the three ordered their dinner, which they then ate in silence. Lola’s reception was much more tepid now so she didn’t come by often. Instead the man named Stu came over during the second quarter and offered them one of the vacation Hauser he owned and operated. He took them across the street to the second haus from the main street, mentioning it would be quieter for them to be away from The Dambuster – Jan agreed as she eyed the faux Bavarian fa├žade in the dim moonlight. The three settled in, prepared their sleeping areas, and went through their nightly routines.

I'd like to dedicate the Seahawks reference to my mother. whose long suffering was finally rewarded last year. As always I'd love feedback and if you would share with your friends - they might like a story about some people going to a bar.