Shelter

house-984648_1920.jpg

It was the only place he could find to get out of the rain. Huddling into a corner, he made himself as warm and comfy as possible. He had already checked out the place and made sure no one else was in residence. The corner he had picked was also the best one. It was a large dry spot and he had clear views of the two doorways into the house.

He looked up and watched the rain falling in. The roof had long ago tumbled in, though the attic and floor above, creating a massive hole in the middle of the house. There were bits of roof tile, bricks, plaster and rubbish scattered around. He hadn’t seen any furniture and guessed the house had been well cleared out over the years.

He rested his head down and listened to the patter of the rain. Oddly he felt like an intruder. This had been someone’s home once. A place of love and safety. It had seemed nice too, a good place to bring up a family. Where had they gone though? What had made them move out?

Trying to dispel those thoughts- what did he care?- He settled for sleep. He began counting sheep jumping over a fence as was habit. He pictured each sheep differently as an individual as his father had taught him. Something about how that helps you fall asleep better.

With the lullaby of the rain, he fell asleep and dreamed of his childhood which he hadn’t thought about in years.

Drifting

bed-1846251_1920 (1).jpg

She was drifting on a sea of dreams to lands unknown.

Wings

three line tales week 59: Happy St. Patrick's Day

She hadn’t flown in a plane since she was a child.

However, she wanted to see the world and this was the fastest way.

The nerves soon give way to joy and she found a passion she never knew was there.

 

(Inspired from; https://only100words.xyz/2017/03/17/three-line-tales-week-59)

Dream Time

colorful-1868353.jpg

He couldn’t remember anything about the dream when he woke and yet the impression of it lingered still.

Dear Diary #29

composition, cute, design

2017. 2017. Even just writing that feels weird. I’ve gotten so use to putting 2016 at the end of dates, events and things. It’s going to take awhile to switch that one number around. But it’ll be the same for everyone I guess.

Well, my first day of 2017 was pretty tedious. Who wants to sit in an empty office whilst everyone else sleeps off last night’s party? Nobody is the correct answer! But me being the Geek I am agreed! And why not? It’s not like I have a life anyway.

It’s 2017 and what have a I got to show for it?

An office job with long, strange hours that pays so little. A tiny apartment with an outrageous rent and a stray cat I can’t get rid of. A driver’s licence, but no car, the fading memory of a degree in a useless subject and a handful of friends who live too far away.Oh and now I can add three ex-boyfriends who are in new relationships.

What has my life become? Where has that carefree girl who spent all her free time reading books and watching movies gone? The girl who didn’t care if she was not in a relationship whilst everyone else was? The girl who dreamed of being a Princess in a tower waiting to be rescued by that drop gorgeous Hollywood guy?

I guess, Diary, she grew up and she saw what life really was; a repeating pattern of work, eat and sleep.

I shouldn’t be so bitter about everything though. My family are all well and I did get to see all my friends at the reunion day. My health is good, but I’m going to drop that diet for a bit. I know the weight might creep back on and I was so good over Christmas, but I just need some cheering up. I’ll still be going to the gym and swimming class though.

I’ve decided to give up on the romance for bit though. Lord knows I need a break from that! And maybe it’s time I looked at getting a new job and moving house. I like my apartment, but maybe something cheaper out of the city would allow me to get a car? Oh, to be driving again and have such a freedom! I could see my friends more often, maybe make new friends and go on new adventures.

Could I really do that though?

Is it worth it? Would I be happier?

I guess anything would be better then this, Diary.

A Winter’s Dream

996px-john_bauer-ha%cc%88sten_ledde_han_vid_betslet

The snow was falling thickly outside, burying the moor further under a white blanket. Lisbeth watched the flakes from the library windows which were the biggest in the small manor house and gave the best views. After a few moments of peering out of each of the three windows, Lisbeth climbed into the window box which was in the second window.

The window box had a soft red cushion covered seat and hand stitched square cushions at both corners. It was cosy and always made Lisbeth feel safe in the large cold library. Bending her knees up and tucking her long dark green dress underneath her, Lisbeth wrapped her arms around her legs and stared out of the window.

She could see the small dirt circled driveway, with the fountain turned off for winter. The red brick wall and black iron gates with their covering of ivy. Beyond, was the moor, which seemed to stretched out forever like the sea. Being covered in snow, the landscape looked bleak and boring, but Lisbeth knew come spring and summer, the moors would be brightly colored with flowers and alive with baby animals.

A loud knocking on the door drew her attention away and Lisbeth turned her head to see her maid walking into the library. The young woman was wearing a black dress and a white pinafore. When she got closer, having come around the big oak table that sat in the middle of the room, Lisbeth saw she had something in her hand.

‘This has arrived for you, Miss. A gift from your father,’ the maid spoke.

Lisbeth reached out a hand and took the brown paper and string wrapped packet. It was a rectangle shape and heavy. Slowly, Lisbeth unwrapped it and and found a book inside. The cover was a light brown and golden letters which she couldn’t read, spelled out a title and an author.

‘I’ll lit the fire in here for you, Miss,’ the maid said.

Lisbeth didn’t say anything as her fingers touched the golden lettering. She knew it was French, but she only knew a handful of words. Opening the book, she flipped through the pages and noticed that some of them had drawings on. In the background, she heard a fire being started then the closing of the door.

Turning the pages slower, Lisbeth come across an image that made her stop. There was a man with black curly hair and blue trousers carrying a girl in one hand and leading a white horse in the other. The horse was carrying four or six other girls through what seemed to be countryside. Lisbeth tried to read the pages on either side of the picture, looking for any words she might know. However, the few she did know give her no clue as to what the drawing was about.

Looking harder at the picture, Lisbeth tried to figure out what was going on. Clearly, this man was taking the girls somewhere. Maybe, he was rescuing them? Was he a Prince? A Lord? A poor farmer? And who were the girls and why were there so many of them? Lisbeth counted again and decided there was six of them riding the horse and the girl in his arm made seven. Were they sisters then?

Feeling frustrated, Lisbeth closed the book and set it at her feet. Resting her head on her knees, she looked out the window again. The glass was misting up and the snow was falling faster making the view of the moor even more distant. From behind her came the first curls of warmth from the fire. She heard the flames cracking around the logs, the noise was too loud in the silence of the library.

Lisbeth shut her eyes and though she didn’t want to think about the drawing anymore, she couldn’t help it. Desperately, she wanted to know who the man and the girls were.

Father will know, she thought, when he gets back from his business trip, he can read it to me.

Sighing and feeling the chill leaving her, Lisbeth went to open her eyes again, but found they were too heavy. With the fire lulling her to sleep, she let herself slip away.

When Lisbeth finally opened her eyes again, she found herself not at home in the library watching the snow falling on the moor, but outside in the countryside. The sun was blazing in a too blue sky, tall green trees were dotted around and the grass under her was long. Birds were singing, insects buzzing and the smell of flowers filled the air.

As she was wondering what had happened, Lisbeth heard the sound of horses hoofs. Getting up, she looked around and saw a road close by. Walking over, she soon saw a large white horse being led by a young man with black curly hair. He was wearing medieval clothes like she had seen in paintings. In his other hand, he was carrying a child wrapped in white strips of cloth who had very long blonde hair. Upon the horse, six other girls rode and they were also wrapped in cloth with tangled long blonde hair.

Lisbeth stepped onto the road before them all.

‘Excuse me,’ Lisbeth called, ‘Hello. Could you please tell me where I am?’

The man brought his horse to a stop and looked at her. The seven girls also fixed their eyes to her and Lisbeth could now see that the girls all looked the same, but they were different ages. They all looked weary as if they had been walking for awhile.

‘You are far from anywhere,’ the man replied.

Lisbeth frowned.

‘This is the middle of the French countryside,’ the man explained, ‘there is nothing but farmers and wine makers out here. We are days from the nearest village and a month from the nearest town.’

‘And who are you all?’ Lisbeth asked.

‘You are clearly a stranger here,’ the man spoke.

Lisbeth nodded.

‘I’m Prince Louis and these are my sisters. Our kingdom was burnt down and we could not stay there. We are traveling to the next kingdom where my oldest sister is betrothed to the Prince there.’

‘I see,’ Lisbeth answered.

‘And you?’ the Prince asked.

‘I do not know. I woke up over there.’

Lisbeth looked at the spot and fell into wondering how she got here.

‘What’s your name?’ the oldest and first Princess on the horse asked.

‘Lisbeth. That I am sure of!’

‘Do you want to come with us?’

‘I do not think I can. I am waiting for my father. He should be home soon,’ Lisbeth replied thoughtfully.

‘Then we must leave you now,’ the Prince spoke out, ‘the road is still long ahead of us.’

‘It was nice meeting you all,’ Lisbeth said.

With nods of goodbye, Lisbeth stepped off the road and watched the Prince leading the white horse away. When she could not seen them anymore, Lisbeth walked back to the spot she had woken up in and sat down.

‘How do I get out of here?’ she spoke aloud.

Resting back, she looked up at the cloudless sky and felt the heat on her skin. She felt tried and hot. Shutting her eyes, she told herself that after a little doze she would figure this all out further.

Someone was calling her name. She could hear them in the distance. Fighting away sleep, Lisbeth opened her eyes. She blinked a few times then sat up. She was back in the library. Rubbing her face, she looked out of the window, but darkness had now settled outside. Turning away, she saw her maid standing before her and the fire still burning brightly further back.

‘I fell asleep…’ Lisbeth said, ‘and it was all a dream.’

‘A pleasant one I hope, Miss?’ the maid asked.

Lisbeth nodded.

‘Would you like some supper now, Miss?’

‘No, thanks. I think I shall go to my room,’ Lisbeth said.

She slipped out of the window box and picked up the book. Even though she was tempted to open the pages and see the drawing again, she kept the book closed and walked out of the library.

Outside the snow continued to fall.

 

(From a prompt by https://janedougherty.wordpress.com/2016/12/09/microfiction-challenge-26-a-journey/ with thanks)

The Bear

animal-1283347.jpg

Deep inside the cave the bear slept winter away. He dreamed of spring when the snow would melt, the grass would be green and the air warm. He splashed through the great river chasing salmon and searching for fruits. He meet other bears, fought them and found a mate. He had father cubs, but he’d never met any of them. He roamed the forest, searching for more food and avoiding the humans. Then he felt the season’s change and knew it was time to get ready for the long sleep. The dream slipped away and the bear dreamt of other things deep within his cave.

Faceless

anonymous, bokeh, creepy

I have dreams every night of a crowd of faceless people. The dreams began the same way. I am walking on the street in the middle of a busy city. There are people all around me and I can hear voices, but not words. I come to the end of the street and stop to wait at the lights. It is there I notice that the people around me are faceless. Where there should be faces are just black, empty spaces. As I try to figure out why this is, the lights change. The people move off. I should go with them, but I can’t. All I can think about is why. Then I wake up.

I lie in bed and think about it. What does this dream mean? Why are the people faceless? It fades and I get up. I go about my day and don’t think about it anymore. When I go to bed though, it returns. Once again, I’m in the city. I walk down the street and around me are all these people. I can hear them talking, but can’t fully make out the words. The street ends and I wait for the lights to change. I look at the people close by me. They are faceless. Where the faces should be are black spaces. I wonder about this as the lights change and the people move off. I wake up soon after.

In the morning, I lie there and instead of thinking about the missing faces, I wonder why I keep having this dream. What is it trying to tell me? Good job, it’s a Sunday morning. I internet search the dream to get answers. Dreaming of faceless people could be associated with identity and the loss or inability of accepting that person. Also, linked to the desire to deepen your knowledge of someone’s personality.   

No, it did help. I looked more, but don’t find much difference. Of course, if I could figure out who these people might be that would help. There are sub-headings like faceless lover, you being faceless, blurring out face of person you know. I tell myself next time I sleep to try hard to look at the people and put more into memory.

I go to bed early, but when I wake up, my dreams were totally different.

Wishing Well

wish-704561_1920.jpg

He threw the coin into the wishing well and didn’t think any more of it, until a week later when a beautiful blonde moved in next door.

 

Love Don’t Bother (Part 2)

heart-742712_1920

It was a bad dream, somehow I knew that, but I couldn’t wake myself up from it. I was at the bar we always go to at the end of our nights out and a handsome man was talking to me. I could hear Amelia, Darcy and their boyfriends in the background. The man was saying how pretty I am and how he couldn’t believe his luck meeting me in here.

I smile and sip my drink.  I try to say how lucky I feel back, but I can’t.  Loud music wraps around me, tugging me to the dance floor yet I don’t move. Bright lights are flashing and there are too many people. I want to leave and go somewhere else. I go to say this to the man, but he ignores me. I reach out for his hand, but my fingers seem to slip through his. The music and the shouting voices press painfully on my head so that I can only see blinding flashes of light.

I try to shake it away then I spot Darcy’s boyfriend, Alex, coming over. He starts whispering to the man. I can’t hear the words but I can see the effect as the man’s face falls. He gives me a look of disgust and leaves.

‘What did you say?’ my dream self-demands.

‘That you sleep with anyone who’ll have you. You’re old, fat and ugly, but always game for some action,’ Alex says with a laugh.

‘That’s not true!’

‘It so is. You’ve tried it on with me and everyone else in this bar.’

He waves his hand out and I look and see the fuzzy faces of men I half remember. Is that my high school history teacher? And the one against the wall looks like my old neighbour, who use to leer at me from behind his hedge.

I shake my head and back up into the bar stool.

‘It’s true!’ he says, ‘you’re a sex-crazed hippo, aren’t you? Here, you want some…’ he unzips his jeans, ‘I’ll give you some!’

Laughter fills my ears, I struggle to get away from him and then I awake up.

Breathing hard, I listen but hear nothing other than the old house settling, the wind rattling the window and the living room clock ticking. I push myself up and turn on the lamp. The light helps, even though I can now see the shadows fleeing to the corners of the room. Sweeping my hair back, I feel dampness against my skin. I get up and open the window. Cold air trials in, blowing the heat and sleep from my face. I can see a hint of light in the overcast grey sky. It’s going to rain soon.

I take deep breaths, which help clear the dream from my mind. However, it has once again disturbed the past memory that I’d put in lock down. Seeing Darcy’s room probably cracked the lid on it. Closing the window, I go into the bathroom and splash some water on my face. It helps a little, but I still feel my skin all sticking together.

I glance at the shower and deciding I’m awake now, take off my clothes and get in. I turn the temperature down and avoid trying to get my hair wet. Which is an impossible task, because the shower is dodgy and water just  goes everywhere. I wash and try hard to think of anything else other then the bits I’m scrubbing with the sponge.

Parts of the dream flash into mind, but I push them away, only they end up being replaced with the real events.

I get out, dry off and collect my clothes. Taking my towel wrapped body back into my bedroom, I find other PJs to wear. Going to the window, I open the curtains, but not enough light is coming in. I notice a few rain drops clinging to the glass. Making sure it’s locked, I leave the grey dawn and turn on the over head light.

My room comes into full clarity. To my left is my messed up bed with a bedding box placed at the end then my TV on it’s stand with the DVD player sticking out underneath. There’s a few small racks holding DVDs and CDS along the wall in between. The wall above my bed as my collection of framed postcards, which looks impression but all the places are actually here in England. Though I’ve a few from Wales. On the right are three floor to ceiling bookcases, which contain whole arrays of fiction and non-fiction books. Then there’s my desk and computer followed by my wardrobe.

Moving, I go over to my bed and kneel down. Flipping the duvet and other trailing blankets back, I feel around and pull out a large fabric covered cardboard box. Taking the lid off, I see it’s the one I want, for inside is a collection of diaries. Last’s years sits on top. I pull it out and climb on to the bed. Flipping the pages, I look for May and June. Once there, I peer at my small neat handwriting and scan the words.

I find the part I’m looking for in the middle of May. I turn on the lamp, curl up against the pillows and began reading.

I met Darcy’s boyfriend, Alex today. I don’t like him and I don’t really see what Darcy sees in him. He’s a big jerk. When we were introduced I saw him sneering at me and thinking…Well, I guess the normal things that people think about large girls. He was polite enough, but I knew it was forced.

Then I over heard him talking to Amelia’s boyfriend, Luke, in her bedroom about me. I was going out to the library and just passing there when I heard voices. I wasn’t going to stop but then I heard my name. Alex was saying, ‘Marcelen has huge boobs. I’d love to see them. Shame about the rest of her though…did you think someone in her family was a cow?’ He laughed.  

Thankfully, Luke didn’t laugh, but he did reply with, ‘she’s not so bad.’

I left, but as I walked to uni, I pictured myself opening Amelia’s door and giving him a piece of my mind. Don’t judge people! You don’t know me. Apologise and in future keep you nasty thoughts to yourself. But I know I’d never have been able to have said it. 

The library was empty – not surprising for a Saturday…..

I stopped as my past self changed topic. I turn the pages and looked for the next entry about Alex. It was there almost a week later; a Friday night and we were going to Liverpool. I skipped the beginning and found a bit the middle.

Everything was going great until the last club. I was at the bar, getting a glass of water and I felt a hand on my bum. I turned and it was Alex! He was totally drunk. I whacked his hand away and yelled, ‘Darcy’s nipped to the loos!’  He shouted down my ear, ‘it’s you I want!’ Then he squeezed my bum. 

I think I told him to get off and then I got my water and walked around the edge of the dance floor. He followed me and then he grabbed my hand, pulling me close to him. I think he said something about dancing, but I wasn’t sure. I tried to shake him off, but he wouldn’t let go and he kept saying how much he wanted me and how he’d seen me staring at him. I think then, though of course with the deafening, booming music, I could have been wrong, he said, ‘a fat bird like you must be gagging for it!’

I threw my water at him and ran away. Of course, then it took forever to find Amelia and Darcy. Luckily, we were going to head home anyway, so when we meet up outside the club, it wasn’t that bad. I was so sure that Alex would say something because he was still wet, but he didn’t. Perhaps, he told Darcy in private as soon as we said goodnight and went into our bedrooms. Though I think there’s only one thing on his mind right now!  

Even now thinking about it worries me. I know Alex was drunk and that was probably to blame, but still…And there’s no way I can tell anyone, because they won’t remember. I don’t get why people enjoy making themselves so drunk like that. You can have a nice night out without all that illness in the morning. 

I can hear them having sex. They must have done it a few times before now, but I’ve never heard them before. I guess being drunk makes them loud. It makes me think about my ex. I still miss him, but it was still the right thing to do. Things would never have worked out between us and I see that now. There’ll be someone else out there for me, I know. Maybe I need to join that dating website again? But my PhD must come first.

I got some prep to do for supporting teaching the first years Monday. Mustn’t forget about that….

I stop reading and let that sink in. I had forgotten that had happened, but it had been the start of everything really. I look up and and out of the window, the sunlight had given up trying to defeat the heavy clouds and it was now raining. Leaving last year’s diary open, I slotted it under a pillow and went to get breakfast.

 

To Be Continued…