"A few nights ago I had this really vivid dream that did the unusual thing of sticking around in my memory. The whole thing was ridiculously intriguing. I wish I could paint a picture of what I saw, but I'll use words instead..."
I had this dream about 18 months ago now, and it's something I'd really like to work into a novel or D&D campaign someday.Enjoy!
*** *** *** *** ***
I lowered myself down the rope onto the small rowboat, sitting down opposite the prisoner. He didn't react, or move at all, and just watched me blankly, cradling a bowl of food in his hands. It was a simple meal, baked fish and dried biscuit, what was left of a meal being prepared in the galley when we took the ship.
Incidentally, the Captain had found the prisoner alongside it. He had been the ship's cook, evidenced by the filthy linen apron he still wore.
I didn't like the Captain. He had spotted the small merchant vessel in the distance and moved to intercept it under the cover of night. His ship, supposedly a pilfered naval frigate was more than a match and we outnumbered them three to one. It could've been a simple robbery, but now a dozen innocent men lay bleeding out on the decks just so the Captain become a Commodore.
When the cook had been tossed out onto the deck, I had jumped in a made a case for his life before he could be skewered. There was a small island nearby, he could be dropped off and perhaps rescued later by another merchant ship.
The Captain's cruelty knew no bounds however, and he broke the Cook's leg with a vicious stomp. The snapping sound made my teeth grind even as the Cook screamed. Then, his bloodlust seemingly sated for now, the Captain ordered a dinghy lowered into the water so I could transport the prisoner to the island.
It was easy to see his intent, both ships would be underway before I was even halfway. The Captain had enough of me, I questioned his orders too much, and often deliberately complied in a fashion that ignored the intent but not the word. This was fine with me though, it was time I moved on anyway.
The Cook was then unceremoniously dropped into the dinghy, further breaking his leg so that bone now protruded through skin and muscle and cloth. He wouldn't survive the island now.
With one final glance up at the ship, the Captain standing there with a smug smirk on his face, I took the oars and began to row away. The crew jeered and whistled, but I ignored them and the Cook just wept.
I would have to take him with me I realised. Although he wouldn't be able to go the whole way, it would improve his odds. Time was funny in that place.
The island came into view shortly, and in the dark I could see a small layer of morning mist beginning to grow on the western shore. It was just what I needed, so I steered the boat towards it. As the mist slowly enveloped us, I locked the oars and allowed the small boat to float with the tides. The Cook stared at me confusedly, so I gave him a wry smile and closed my eyes.
I could not explain how it worked, a moment of thought, or meditation, or prayer perhaps, but the mist swirled over us and we moved between one place and the next in a heartbeat.
We were no longer in the open ocean but instead a canal, straight as an arrow and reaching out forward and back as far as the eye could see. Cushioned between red-and-grey brick walls, the water was clear black, making it impossible to see the bottom and instead reflecting the mist around us in a perfect mirror. It perfect width for our dinghy, and even at full extension the oars would not catch on the walls, but then it always was. Dinghy or yacht or cruise ship, no matter the vessel, the canal would accommodate it perfectly.
It was the sky that took my breath away though. The mist pervaded everywhere, never revealing the path more than one hundred strides away. It was not any mere mist however, the silvery-grey lines were there of course, but mixed in with greens and blues and purples. Endlessly swirling, endlessly dancing, the palette reflecting a lighter version of Van Gogh's night sky combined with the Aurora Borealis. Stars moved through it all, carried on the currents, twinkling beautifully in silvers and golds. I fancied they chased each other through the beautiful chaos.
Soon, I heard an engine, and glanced at the road beside the canal. It was time to leave. I stood, and the cook looked worried.
"Good luck," I said, sincerely. "In time, you might find your way out, or find a friend who can show you. You'll be safe until then."
Before he could answer, I leaped ashore. He stammered but was soon too far away to hear. I didn't lie to him, he wouldn't die here. Years could pass with it only being a few minutes from his perspective, and sooner or later he'd be free. I could've freed him myself, but I only had payment for one.
Pausing, I reached out a hand and beckoned one of the stars. It floated down serenely, alighting on my hand gently, a wisp of light no larger than a fingernail. I thought of my destination and it took off again, floating several steps ahead of me.
The engine I heard finally approached, and an open-topped bus came into view. I jumped aboard as it passed, the passengers to in awe to notice one extra. The wisp moved to stay in front of me.
I travelled this way for some time, alighting at certain junctions as the wisp moved to follow a different path from my vehicle. The bus became a horse and wagon, which in turn became an 40's era automobile, then the trailer of an AI-driven HGV.
My journey came to an end at what looked to be a simple tollgate. I paused there for a moment, glancing back through mists I'd come through. Already it just looked like a simple gravel path, no sign of any vehicle or even the canal I'd entered on. I'd been at this spot so many times, leaving behind one world and entering another.It was rare the gravity of it hit me. Wherever I'd been, whatever connections I made, they would all just be memories now. It was near impossible to follow the paths back to a place you wanted to go, only the tollbooth was a constant, and that was merely to guarantee my safety.
Incidentally, the Captain had found the prisoner alongside it. He had been the ship's cook, evidenced by the filthy linen apron he still wore.
I didn't like the Captain. He had spotted the small merchant vessel in the distance and moved to intercept it under the cover of night. His ship, supposedly a pilfered naval frigate was more than a match and we outnumbered them three to one. It could've been a simple robbery, but now a dozen innocent men lay bleeding out on the decks just so the Captain become a Commodore.
When the cook had been tossed out onto the deck, I had jumped in a made a case for his life before he could be skewered. There was a small island nearby, he could be dropped off and perhaps rescued later by another merchant ship.
The Captain's cruelty knew no bounds however, and he broke the Cook's leg with a vicious stomp. The snapping sound made my teeth grind even as the Cook screamed. Then, his bloodlust seemingly sated for now, the Captain ordered a dinghy lowered into the water so I could transport the prisoner to the island.
It was easy to see his intent, both ships would be underway before I was even halfway. The Captain had enough of me, I questioned his orders too much, and often deliberately complied in a fashion that ignored the intent but not the word. This was fine with me though, it was time I moved on anyway.
The Cook was then unceremoniously dropped into the dinghy, further breaking his leg so that bone now protruded through skin and muscle and cloth. He wouldn't survive the island now.
With one final glance up at the ship, the Captain standing there with a smug smirk on his face, I took the oars and began to row away. The crew jeered and whistled, but I ignored them and the Cook just wept.
I would have to take him with me I realised. Although he wouldn't be able to go the whole way, it would improve his odds. Time was funny in that place.
The island came into view shortly, and in the dark I could see a small layer of morning mist beginning to grow on the western shore. It was just what I needed, so I steered the boat towards it. As the mist slowly enveloped us, I locked the oars and allowed the small boat to float with the tides. The Cook stared at me confusedly, so I gave him a wry smile and closed my eyes.
I could not explain how it worked, a moment of thought, or meditation, or prayer perhaps, but the mist swirled over us and we moved between one place and the next in a heartbeat.
We were no longer in the open ocean but instead a canal, straight as an arrow and reaching out forward and back as far as the eye could see. Cushioned between red-and-grey brick walls, the water was clear black, making it impossible to see the bottom and instead reflecting the mist around us in a perfect mirror. It perfect width for our dinghy, and even at full extension the oars would not catch on the walls, but then it always was. Dinghy or yacht or cruise ship, no matter the vessel, the canal would accommodate it perfectly.
It was the sky that took my breath away though. The mist pervaded everywhere, never revealing the path more than one hundred strides away. It was not any mere mist however, the silvery-grey lines were there of course, but mixed in with greens and blues and purples. Endlessly swirling, endlessly dancing, the palette reflecting a lighter version of Van Gogh's night sky combined with the Aurora Borealis. Stars moved through it all, carried on the currents, twinkling beautifully in silvers and golds. I fancied they chased each other through the beautiful chaos.
Soon, I heard an engine, and glanced at the road beside the canal. It was time to leave. I stood, and the cook looked worried.
"Good luck," I said, sincerely. "In time, you might find your way out, or find a friend who can show you. You'll be safe until then."
Before he could answer, I leaped ashore. He stammered but was soon too far away to hear. I didn't lie to him, he wouldn't die here. Years could pass with it only being a few minutes from his perspective, and sooner or later he'd be free. I could've freed him myself, but I only had payment for one.
Pausing, I reached out a hand and beckoned one of the stars. It floated down serenely, alighting on my hand gently, a wisp of light no larger than a fingernail. I thought of my destination and it took off again, floating several steps ahead of me.
The engine I heard finally approached, and an open-topped bus came into view. I jumped aboard as it passed, the passengers to in awe to notice one extra. The wisp moved to stay in front of me.
I travelled this way for some time, alighting at certain junctions as the wisp moved to follow a different path from my vehicle. The bus became a horse and wagon, which in turn became an 40's era automobile, then the trailer of an AI-driven HGV.
My journey came to an end at what looked to be a simple tollgate. I paused there for a moment, glancing back through mists I'd come through. Already it just looked like a simple gravel path, no sign of any vehicle or even the canal I'd entered on. I'd been at this spot so many times, leaving behind one world and entering another.It was rare the gravity of it hit me. Wherever I'd been, whatever connections I made, they would all just be memories now. It was near impossible to follow the paths back to a place you wanted to go, only the tollbooth was a constant, and that was merely to guarantee my safety.
This last world had been less than agreeable, but I'd still made friends. I'd never see them again. Them and several hundred others, lost to the mists. Worse, there were worlds out there with people I loved, not least of which was home... wherever that was.
It didn't take a hundred worlds to feel small and alone. Took barely even a dozen. How long would it take to start forgetting faces or voices? Already I wonder how much I remember is mere idealisation. Too perfect versions of people I miss the most, all the edges filed off to give me that extra bump of hope to keep going and maybe see them again. I could stop, of course. Choose a world and settle down, but it never felt quite right. Could be my attachment to Home, to people I've not seen in years, to love that might only exist in my own heart...
It was times like this that you realise how quiet the world is. There was nothing but the sound of my own breath, not even an echo.
Eventually, I turned back to the tollbooth.Within sat a robed and hooded figure with skeletal hands. He, or she, was nearly eight feet tall, and held out a hand to me wordlessly. I placed in it a single copper piece, perfectly made, and left The Road. Onto the next great adventure.
No comments:
Post a Comment