Glitterdrome
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- Posted: Tue, 07 Feb 2012 13:35:44 +0000
I wrote this (untitled) short story in under an hour based on a scene from a dream I had last night (so naturally it's a bit weird.)
I'm not sure how good the idea is, my dreams normally have quite good storylines but then again I also had a dream last night about asking my dad how to spell boner.
Please be honest.
With a small shiver Judith opened her eyes and realised that this time she was looking at the back of her own house. She was standing on the centre slope of her back garden, as usual clad only in a thin night dress- the dewy grass dampened her feet sending a chill through her body. Overcoming the typical wave of nausea she focused more clearly on the house, it was completely shrouded in darkness save for one white light reaching down the garden from the patio doors. After several seconds a man’s silhouette appeared, growing larger and bolder as it came closer to the glass. At first she assumed it was her husband, maybe he couldn’t sleep, sometimes he came downstairs at night and she woke to find the bed warm but empty as he wandered around the maze of their house. After five years of marriage, however, her senses began to give her warning signs as she recognised that this man’s stance was entirely different to Mike’s; it was more casual, more confident.
She felt a thrill of terror and asked herself what an unfamiliar man could be doing in her house at so late an hour; the only answers she received were drawn from horror stories and criminal reconstructions. A high-pitched squeak reverberated around the garden as the door handle turned and the loud tapping of men’s work boots shook her body as they began descending the sloping concrete path of the garden to meet her.
In the clear moonlight she could glimpse the man’s face, smooth and calm and beautiful in the soft glow of the night. Paralysed by fear she stood fixed to the spot but he appeared not to notice her, his eyes did not acknowledge her and he seemed unbothered by her presence there. She was standing beside the fish pond, a raised stone structure with still waters glinting black in the moonlight. Neither she nor her husband particularly cared for fish so, over the short time they had lived in the house, the waters had grown murky as the pond fell into a state of gradual disrepair, though here and there browning lily-pads still pierced the surface.
The man, taking large, slow steps, eventually reached the place where she stood; he stopped within touching distance and took an audible breath. He gazed into the pond and she could see his reflection in the water as clear as if he were looking into a mirror, the full moon was positioned behind his head casting the impression of a halo, an angelic figure in a looking-glass. He appeared to see the same illusion as he gave a soft laugh and touched the surface with his finger creating ripples to shatter the image.
Feeling confident that the man was not aware of her presence, and with his back turned, she took several tentative steps closer to him so that she could see better what he was doing. She noticed that he was peeling back the sleeves of his white shirt to his elbows and shuddered with a vicarious chill as she realised his intention in the cold night. He reached both of his arms into the black depths. She knew the pond was not deep and could see that he was feeling along the bottom as if searching. His hands stayed and she knew he had found what he sought. He began to pull from the pond two pale objects, for an instant she could not make sense of their shape but felt a profound sickness as the answer came to her.
The man was pulling from the pond a pair of slender human arms. Once they were free he left them, with dripping fingers, dangling over the edge of the pool. With apparent effort he again reached over the stone lip and, putting his hands beneath the dead woman’s shoulders, hauled the rest of her body from the water. He laid her on the grass, her brown hair clinging to her face, marring the visibility of her features. She was wearing only a sheer, dark slip that had evidently once been white. Her body was thin and bright white and showed no sign of decay. The only smell in the air was the earthy aroma of stale water emanating from the disturbed depths of the pond. There was no sign of blood and the scene appeared eerily tranquil.
After gazing at it for a moment, with palpable adoration, the man picked up the girl’s body; cradling it in his arms like a child. Slowly striding past Judith he headed further down the slope of the garden. Knowing again that the man’s eyes were not turned towards her she quietly crept after him. He walked down the gentle slope for roughly an acre, coming to a small coppice of fir-trees; in front of the front-most line of trees was a mound of freshly-turned earth and beside it a large, rectangular hole. As she expected, the man laid the woman’s body gently in the hole and began pushing the earth on top of her by hand until no glimpse of white flesh could be seen, he then picked up a spade from the side of the grave and finished the job.
The completion of the task seemed to wake new fear in Judith and where she had hitherto been unable to move whilst in his eye line she now began to run up the garden. She ran messily, as if she had forgotten how and stumbled on a large rock next to the fishpond, it had been placed to commemorate the child she had miscarried several days after they had moved in, when they were still newlyweds. With a dull thud she landed on the floor, pain sprang to her ankle and with horror she realised that the man was acknowledging her at last. He walked slowly up to her, she tried to stand but the pain overcame her and she was held by her ankle to the floor. He reached her and knelt gently down next to her, drawing his face to hers until their noses were almost touching. She could now see his features plainly, but they no longer appeared beautiful to her, the moonlight no longer exacerbated the smoothness of his face but instead gave it an eerie edge she was loathe to look at. He reached out his arm, his hand reaching for her chest to where her heart lay, his fingers stopping millimetres from her skin. She felt no warmth from his body. He spoke to her softly telling her he could not yet touch her, he must wait until the dream was stronger. This was a new dream to her and she would see it many more times before he became tangible. He warned that she had witnessed her end and he would eventually return with enough strength to instrument it.
She shivered from the closeness of him and heard his threat, her stomach lurched and she felt a new chill as the dew rose through her nightdress where she was shackled to the grass. She had no doubt that both the man and the dream would return as her dreams often did. This was not her first nightmare of the kind; the manifestation of her dreams was now increasingly common but had only once ended in tragedy with the devastating prenatal death of her first child. She closed her eyes to avoid his and took a deep breath, feeling immediately calmer.
When she opened her eyes again she found herself in her own bed, her husband breathing gently next to her. She slid her body over to his side of the bed and lifted his arm to place it around her waist, she smelt his skin and felt his breath on the back of her neck. Overcome by peaceful familiarity she worked hard to forget the dream. She would not tell Mike about this one, she would stay with him here, in her perfect reality, until the dream took her.
I'm not sure how good the idea is, my dreams normally have quite good storylines but then again I also had a dream last night about asking my dad how to spell boner.
Please be honest.
*
With a small shiver Judith opened her eyes and realised that this time she was looking at the back of her own house. She was standing on the centre slope of her back garden, as usual clad only in a thin night dress- the dewy grass dampened her feet sending a chill through her body. Overcoming the typical wave of nausea she focused more clearly on the house, it was completely shrouded in darkness save for one white light reaching down the garden from the patio doors. After several seconds a man’s silhouette appeared, growing larger and bolder as it came closer to the glass. At first she assumed it was her husband, maybe he couldn’t sleep, sometimes he came downstairs at night and she woke to find the bed warm but empty as he wandered around the maze of their house. After five years of marriage, however, her senses began to give her warning signs as she recognised that this man’s stance was entirely different to Mike’s; it was more casual, more confident.
She felt a thrill of terror and asked herself what an unfamiliar man could be doing in her house at so late an hour; the only answers she received were drawn from horror stories and criminal reconstructions. A high-pitched squeak reverberated around the garden as the door handle turned and the loud tapping of men’s work boots shook her body as they began descending the sloping concrete path of the garden to meet her.
In the clear moonlight she could glimpse the man’s face, smooth and calm and beautiful in the soft glow of the night. Paralysed by fear she stood fixed to the spot but he appeared not to notice her, his eyes did not acknowledge her and he seemed unbothered by her presence there. She was standing beside the fish pond, a raised stone structure with still waters glinting black in the moonlight. Neither she nor her husband particularly cared for fish so, over the short time they had lived in the house, the waters had grown murky as the pond fell into a state of gradual disrepair, though here and there browning lily-pads still pierced the surface.
The man, taking large, slow steps, eventually reached the place where she stood; he stopped within touching distance and took an audible breath. He gazed into the pond and she could see his reflection in the water as clear as if he were looking into a mirror, the full moon was positioned behind his head casting the impression of a halo, an angelic figure in a looking-glass. He appeared to see the same illusion as he gave a soft laugh and touched the surface with his finger creating ripples to shatter the image.
Feeling confident that the man was not aware of her presence, and with his back turned, she took several tentative steps closer to him so that she could see better what he was doing. She noticed that he was peeling back the sleeves of his white shirt to his elbows and shuddered with a vicarious chill as she realised his intention in the cold night. He reached both of his arms into the black depths. She knew the pond was not deep and could see that he was feeling along the bottom as if searching. His hands stayed and she knew he had found what he sought. He began to pull from the pond two pale objects, for an instant she could not make sense of their shape but felt a profound sickness as the answer came to her.
The man was pulling from the pond a pair of slender human arms. Once they were free he left them, with dripping fingers, dangling over the edge of the pool. With apparent effort he again reached over the stone lip and, putting his hands beneath the dead woman’s shoulders, hauled the rest of her body from the water. He laid her on the grass, her brown hair clinging to her face, marring the visibility of her features. She was wearing only a sheer, dark slip that had evidently once been white. Her body was thin and bright white and showed no sign of decay. The only smell in the air was the earthy aroma of stale water emanating from the disturbed depths of the pond. There was no sign of blood and the scene appeared eerily tranquil.
After gazing at it for a moment, with palpable adoration, the man picked up the girl’s body; cradling it in his arms like a child. Slowly striding past Judith he headed further down the slope of the garden. Knowing again that the man’s eyes were not turned towards her she quietly crept after him. He walked down the gentle slope for roughly an acre, coming to a small coppice of fir-trees; in front of the front-most line of trees was a mound of freshly-turned earth and beside it a large, rectangular hole. As she expected, the man laid the woman’s body gently in the hole and began pushing the earth on top of her by hand until no glimpse of white flesh could be seen, he then picked up a spade from the side of the grave and finished the job.
The completion of the task seemed to wake new fear in Judith and where she had hitherto been unable to move whilst in his eye line she now began to run up the garden. She ran messily, as if she had forgotten how and stumbled on a large rock next to the fishpond, it had been placed to commemorate the child she had miscarried several days after they had moved in, when they were still newlyweds. With a dull thud she landed on the floor, pain sprang to her ankle and with horror she realised that the man was acknowledging her at last. He walked slowly up to her, she tried to stand but the pain overcame her and she was held by her ankle to the floor. He reached her and knelt gently down next to her, drawing his face to hers until their noses were almost touching. She could now see his features plainly, but they no longer appeared beautiful to her, the moonlight no longer exacerbated the smoothness of his face but instead gave it an eerie edge she was loathe to look at. He reached out his arm, his hand reaching for her chest to where her heart lay, his fingers stopping millimetres from her skin. She felt no warmth from his body. He spoke to her softly telling her he could not yet touch her, he must wait until the dream was stronger. This was a new dream to her and she would see it many more times before he became tangible. He warned that she had witnessed her end and he would eventually return with enough strength to instrument it.
She shivered from the closeness of him and heard his threat, her stomach lurched and she felt a new chill as the dew rose through her nightdress where she was shackled to the grass. She had no doubt that both the man and the dream would return as her dreams often did. This was not her first nightmare of the kind; the manifestation of her dreams was now increasingly common but had only once ended in tragedy with the devastating prenatal death of her first child. She closed her eyes to avoid his and took a deep breath, feeling immediately calmer.
When she opened her eyes again she found herself in her own bed, her husband breathing gently next to her. She slid her body over to his side of the bed and lifted his arm to place it around her waist, she smelt his skin and felt his breath on the back of her neck. Overcome by peaceful familiarity she worked hard to forget the dream. She would not tell Mike about this one, she would stay with him here, in her perfect reality, until the dream took her.
