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“Would you like to hear a story?” Hisses a cryptic voice in the depths of your sleep, “A story which you may only come across once it wants you to come across it, you see. A great pirate once said; ‘you must be well and truly lost to find what is hidden; otherwise everyone would be able to find it!’ It is an excellent quote, no?” The voice pauses for a moment, to chuckle. “What am I saying? You can’t answer me! Especially since I’m not here, and you’re asleep.”
A soft, whimpering wail enters your sleep, though you can’t see where it’s coming from, just like the voice. It sounds almost like a baby, but it seems weak.
“Oh, look, the Seed knows you’re here,” The voice whispers. “You will come and collect it, you know. You just have to wake up, and all will become clear.”
And with a gasp, and possibly falling out of your bed, you wake up.
When one dreams such a dream, the thing that can come next is only a search. To search for the baby (did he call it a spore, or a seed?) and the mysterious voice that was talking to you. The search may take you days, months, or perhaps it’s over right now, but eventually, you will find it.
It’s a place that looks familiar, even though you’ve never seen it. Stepping inside, you find that it’s almost like a house. It’s very big, and very fancy, and very old. It’s fancy in a way that suggests it was lovely hundreds of years ago, but now musty and wearing away. There is a winding set of stairs, leading you up onto the second floor. Every hallway is carpeted with exotic woven rugs, and nearly every wall has a photo frame or a tapestry from it. But…something is so very odd. Every photo frame is completely blank, and though waiting for a photo to be put in it.
Finally, at the end of the hall, you come across a room with a large sign proclaiming “DO NOT ENTER.” Well, naturally, you will enter. If not, you’ll be back to enter within the week, but you will go in eventually.
Inside is a beautifully decorated room, with paintings on the roof and rugs to rival a palace. It is all old, as is the rest of the house, but still beautiful. Venturing further into the room, there will be a table. It is a long table, that stretches from wall to wall, and upon it are hundreds of little eggs.
The eggs look something like an ostrich egg, (or was it emus that lay the white ones?) they are white, thick, and long; kind of like big pills. Looking at them, a few seem to be slightly smaller, however they are mostly identical.
You’ve been staring for quite some time now, and, without realizing it, you’ve picked one up. Turning it over in your hands, you wonder why you did it, though can’t help but remember the voice once more;
You will come and collect it, you know.
Is this the seed? You were led to this place you’ve never seen before, but it is so familiar, surely this must be it? Hoping no one saw what you’ve done, you tuck it into your jacket (or in your backpack, or up your shirt) and cradle it ever-so carefully, before running out of the mansion and all the way home.
The next day, when you wake up, you can’t help but wonder if yesterday at the strange mansion was a dream or a memory. You may go back to see the mansion, only to find it is not there, or you may look for the egg. You could try and go back to sleep, only to find that you can only think about the egg. Either way, you will find the egg where you left it eventually.
Wherever you left it, it will still be there, innocently sitting, not doing very much except being an egg.
If it was a dream, then why is the egg still here? It will be there tomorrow, and the day after that too, it won’t vanish. If it was a memory, why is the mansion gone? There was nothing left of it at all. No hint that it was ever there. No matter what day you go back, at what hour, it will never be there again. So, for now, take what’s left of the memory, and keep it warm, safe, and for god sake don’t scramble it for breakfast!
~~
"METAPLOT UPDATE" After the death of the fourth keeper of the house, the voice decided to breed a seed especially for the job. Someone smart. Someone organised. Someone talented. Instead he got Roland.
Though, it wasn't a complete failure. From the same egg came a worried-looking female along with the cheekily smirking male. Jonah. From the pile of stones that had been created so far, the voice drew the stones that aligned best with the energies of both children. Jonah and Roland grew up together, fighting, crying, playing, learning and making a hassle of themselves. By the time the two were children, they'd wreaked havoc upon half of the entire visible mansion.
The voice wished he'd never tried personality altering.
By the time the pair reached the preteen stage, the voice had had enough. He tried to cast a reversal spell on the pair, to send them back to their egg and erase them from history. However, quite the opposite happened. The spell misfired and the two became immortal. Immortal and permanently rambunctious, irritating, anxious and hormonal preteens.
The voice also wished he had just let them live out their lives.
Now, over 200 years later, the two continue to run the mansion. Energies became sparse, and they desperately tried to move the mansion as often as possible, so as to shorten the distance between possible guardians and their destined children. No eggs hatched for many years. A rogue egg or two vanished every now and then, but not to good homes, and sometimes of their own accord, stealing rare stones as they went.
Finally, energies are becoming strong enough to contact guardians. And the more seeds that hatch, the stronger the energies become.
Jonah and Roland are doing better than the voice thought they would. However, they still can't hear him. Not enough seeds have been sewn.
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