Categories > Original > Fantasy

work in progress

by sissymo 0 reviews

Notes for a work in progress

Category: Fantasy - Rating: R - Genres: Angst, Drama, Fantasy - Published: 2007-03-17 - Updated: 2007-03-17 - 437 words

0Unrated
Every day of the past three years is a blur of colors. Random memories float to the surface of my mind, and I struggle to remember being there. Names and faces, fractured in the fray of color. Memories of a time before this town seem dreamlike and surreal. Tendrils of sanity creep into my confusion.

It is nighttime now. The Daymovers sleep, while the underbelly if the world writhes with life in the confines of darkness. I sit here, in my pocket of life, hating every moment. I yearn for the day when I too was a Daymover.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The woman sat in the corner of the dusty lobby. Her eyes focused on the old clock that stood alone on the opposite wall. Tick, Tick, Tick. The rhythmic monotony lulled her into a dream-state, halfway between here and forever. At the chime of four, her eyes focused and she became aware of the present once more. A man, dark and ominous in prescence, stood in the doorway.

"It is time to leave." he said.
"Already?" she replied.

The man nodded, and the woman stood.

"Where am I to go now?"

"Wherever you choose to."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


The sun hurt Dinah's eyes. Even in the shade she was unused to the brilliant glare from the flaming star. It had been years since she was last outside at midday. From her position on the steps she could watch the Daymovers unobtrousivley. A man with no home sat in the alley between the shop corners. Dinah could see him from her seat on the steps. His unruly hair hung far too long and matted for her to see his eyes. She imagined them to be blue and unfocused, perhaps hiding a glimmer of insanity. Dinah remembered the days her mind had left her. She wondered if the pedestrians passing her and blue-eyes by knew the swirling agony of uncertanty that came with the inability to tell dream from reality. She wondered if they had ever felt the panic that rises up from the depths of unconsiousness, sending the mind on a downward spiral into terror. She did not want the memory of her lost days.

She continued to sit into the twilight, monitoring their habits and patterns with mild curiosity.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------




The Processors Office stood tall and imposing in the early morning. From her position on the ground, Dinah could not see the roof of the building through the moisture in the air. She was hesitant to enter, she did not like new places.

The plastic woman in the atrium smiled at her. No friendliness or intelligence shone in her eyes, only passive disinterest.
Sign up to rate and review this story