One of us (( Open ))
Posted: Wed Aug 13, 2014 12:36 am
// Feel free to join at any time
Chaindog tosses in her sleep. The dream invades her mind like a faint whisper. "One of us." they whisper on the wind in her dreams. The lull in sleep pulls her deeper into the emerald dream. She been around long enough to know what it is. This realm as it were keeps pulling her every night. And every night it pulls her further. Like the druids that sleep forever, it scares her. The whispers grow in volume until the wind is deafening.
She drags herself out of her slumber like she's wearing her dress and trying to pull herself out of a lake. She rolls off the bed and onto the floor. She lands with a thump and a crash as a clay cup is shattered as she lands on it.
The pull is harder to resist these days. She fumbles around for her boots. She pulls Finkle's Skinner, her favorite knife. She sticks out her left forearm. Starting at the wrist she starts to cut herself towards her elbow. The pain helps pull her out of it. But today it is different. The sleep is more resistant. As she struggles, she blindly pushes the knife deeper and further along her forearm. She is troll. Pain is life. Is this what her grandmother meant?
The pain grows deeper and she starts to scream. She pushes the knife deeper and harder all the while screaming louder. Suddenly the knife hit's the bone at the elbow and her eyes flash open. She looks at her arm and notices the knife is hilt deep and through her arm. She looks to the sky and screams, "Leave me be!!" Her scream echoes throughout the guild hall.
The pull of the emerald dream is gone. For now.
Chaindog tosses in her sleep. The dream invades her mind like a faint whisper. "One of us." they whisper on the wind in her dreams. The lull in sleep pulls her deeper into the emerald dream. She been around long enough to know what it is. This realm as it were keeps pulling her every night. And every night it pulls her further. Like the druids that sleep forever, it scares her. The whispers grow in volume until the wind is deafening.
She drags herself out of her slumber like she's wearing her dress and trying to pull herself out of a lake. She rolls off the bed and onto the floor. She lands with a thump and a crash as a clay cup is shattered as she lands on it.
The pull is harder to resist these days. She fumbles around for her boots. She pulls Finkle's Skinner, her favorite knife. She sticks out her left forearm. Starting at the wrist she starts to cut herself towards her elbow. The pain helps pull her out of it. But today it is different. The sleep is more resistant. As she struggles, she blindly pushes the knife deeper and further along her forearm. She is troll. Pain is life. Is this what her grandmother meant?
The pain grows deeper and she starts to scream. She pushes the knife deeper and harder all the while screaming louder. Suddenly the knife hit's the bone at the elbow and her eyes flash open. She looks at her arm and notices the knife is hilt deep and through her arm. She looks to the sky and screams, "Leave me be!!" Her scream echoes throughout the guild hall.
The pull of the emerald dream is gone. For now.