A Dream Of A World In Amour
The boy looked sick, he shook ever so slightly, but his face betrayed the struggle
he was fighting. The shivering would be so much greater if he had just gave
in and let everything go. But he gritted his teeth hard and as sweat rolled
down his face into his eyes he didn't even flinch. The salt made his eyes tear,
his skin went a dark maroon, we tried to help him.
But if one of us moved to help, he would push them away with a strength that could not be seen on his dilipadated frame. He didn't open his mouth, but he grunted and moaned as we tried to help him, tried to reach him, his eyes widening in anger. We didn't even know him, but I wanted to help him, just like the rest I felt an urge to save him.
Someone had gone to call an ambulance, the boy would run if he knew. But he only struggled to open his mouth or keep it shut. I couldn't be sure, his jaw was clenched unbearably tight, but he bared his teeth as he craned his neck towards the sky, his breath coming out in painful hisses.
When he finally lost the struggle he was fighting the world itself rippled out away from him, knocking us to the ground that now felt warm and crackled like static. He collapsed and gasped for air, some of us scrambled away, with obvious reason. This boy had made the earth shake and now as we finally fell into the silence of shock, I could hear his sobbing.
I wanted to run like the rest but I couldn't bring myself to walk away. I'd lost all sense of safety as I watched the boy, who's weak muscle tone stood out on a frame stripped of fat. Tensed tighter than should be, his skin forming goose bumps despite the heat.
His head snapped back and I heard something pop as it twisted onto his back, his arms went limp, but his body rose. The head leaning onto his back, the muscles stretched beyond the point of breaking, the skin broken in some parts, the muscles torn in others.
And then, the flash that would change everything. Our world was gone in a second in my minds eye, but it could have been decades that had passed. Now I was surrounded by grass, greener and richer than any I had seen. The sky seemed to stretch on with an everlasting blue, and the ground rolled and fell in hills and plains.
As I looked around I saw my body from the corner of my vision. My skin was covered in a tight fitting suit of armour, but armour made up of plates and sections, that seemed to cling to my body. Plates marked with whites and blues. I felt suddenly fat and bloated, my gloved hand rubbed my arm. I felt the touch, not through the plates though, not under the armour, the depth and density were all wrong as if they were at my very fingertips. My body felt tight almost constricted, but not like it wouldn't move just that it wasn't used to moving, almost stiff from disuse.
The armour acted like a second skin. I tried to find a way of removing it a catch a lock, a strap, a buckle, anything. But only succeeded in removing the gloves that covered my hands. As they slid off my hands it felt as if I pealed away a numb layer of skin. There was no pain, but the sensations alone draw my stomach into a rise.
I began to panic as I clawed and tugged at the suit that now covered my body, but where the gloves had slid off with no pain and only a slight strange physical sense, the armour clung to me. As I pulled at the plates covering my arm pain raced up it, pain from the armour and from the skin and flesh I knew to be underneath it.
I felt the plate budge and pain burnt my forearm, but in my panic I was happy with any change. I pulled harder, but blood began to rush down onto my hand and I let go of the plate in shock. I couldn't take it off, I was trapped. It had not moved a fraction away from my skin and the blood ran along my hand as if it were free flowing water.
The burning began to worsen and my fingers suddenly felt stiff and arthritic. I began to sob as I sat there, covered in this shell. My hands numbed slowly into claws and I looked at them sadly, clawed and bent, locked in that.
I tried to pick up the gloves that lay beside me, but could only clamp one between my stiff hands. My fingers seemed to loosen with the touch of the silken element, and as I slowly regained movement I desperately and pathetically tried to slide one back on with hands that may as well have been hooves.
As the glove slid on the numbness began to leave my hand making progress quicker and quicker, but the pain in my free hand worsened, like it was being tensed to a degree it shouldn't be. Putting on the second glove was far less of a chore and far more relieving, but the way the blood didn't escape or overflow onto the glove, once it was on, that disturbed me. Was it welling inside that meshed dark blue glove, coagulating and thickening and drying until I could brush it off like a powder.
I stood up, the plates moved as if nothing encased me. I felt as free as if I was naked. The sudden thought of nudity brought me checking my crotch, another plate, another section, the armour looked like something out of a science fiction nut's wet dreams, streamlined and moulded to my body, like I was a professional sprinter forged for war.
I took a nervous step my balance betraying me as I staggered and fell. I felt no burden, but it was if something dragged me down. I tried again, adamant to move, the steps were uneasy and unbalanced but the more I tried the more well placed and smooth flowing they became.
The world seemed filled with life, colours pitched everywhere, plants stood alongside crystal clear free flowing water, mountains in the distance. There were no dirty browns or ashen blacks in the soil, only bright greens and blues, brilliant greys and demanding browns.
But asides from my feet moving through the long grass and the light run of water, not a sound came from around me. There were no birds, no insects, no wind in the trees. Everything remained still and solemn until I touched it.
I began to wonder hopelessly in the stone quiet green, my encased feet feeling every slope and drop in the ground, but crushing sticks and covering sharp stones with no pain.
It was hours of trudging through the long wet grass before I finally found noise. A small village, of stone walls and grass rooves. I'd never really known what thatched was, but her it was, woven grass.
No one was on the streets where I came in, but there was noise, sound coming from further in, sound coming from people. I began to walk faster, the armour made no noise as I sped up, no clank or chitter like I expected it to, even my footsteps seemed to be quieter on the uneven stone road.
The crowd gathered around a wooden platform, holding a frame work for some unfinished home, a man attached by rope to the middle. A man in armour like me, I wanted to go closer, he would have answers. They were yelling and screaming, they all wore bad clothes, almost a heshen, but some silk and others skin's of animals. But all yelling.
I didn't understand the words, but the man on the platform looked at me, blank as stone. No one turned to face me, but the man stared at me still. He put his chin up and spat into the crowd before yelling.
"Boy, you will not find what you need here, these people will only kill and as god's soldiers we are not here to fight them", three men behind him pulled on the rope, hoisting him into the air. He began to choke and the crowd rose into a roaring chant that stung at my mind like the scratch of metal on stone.
I needed him, what could I do. He began to turn red and I felt heat rise in my hand. I was afraid to walk closer and I slowly began to back away, the man thrashed and kicked and almost seemed to nod at me as he flung about, his eye's fixed on mine. It was then that one of the crowd, an elderly man at the back, turned. His face went a flushed shade of red, his eye's widened and he screamed.
Still no words I understood, but the crowd turned and other's followed his example, children ran, men grabbed anything nearby, women raised stones carried in dirty palms. The man on the rope began to glow. A brilliant white, the men behind him pulled him higher, another ran forward and jabbed something into his throat. The glow dissipated as he slowed and stopped his final struggle.
The crowd began to throw stones, chunks of wood, anything they couldn't hold was cast at me. I covered my face as my hands began to burn, I was bleeding again, I felt it inside my arm, but this time from both. Could that be right.
A bright white flash lit everything and as the flash slowed, the noise stopped, the assault stopped. I looked up to see the man on the noose suddenly looking straight ahead, a piece of wood still hanging from his throat, his body suddenly tense, the armour breathing to accommodate him. The men still holding him tight above the ground unmoved by the assault that had stunned the rest.
"Run boy, less you be stupid, I will clear what is here", I didn't know what to do, so I followed the word of the dead man. I ran.
As I turned I heard the snap of something other worldly, men screamed, howled in pain. I kept pushing, my legs suddenly filled with an energy lost to me. My upper body had trouble keeping up, I found myself leaning forward more than I should be, staggering and stumbling but always running. All I wanted to do was run, see how fast I could go, how hard I could push myself. I wanted the wind to whistle into me, to rush past me, I wanted to fly past it all and the greatest part of all was that I could do it.
I hammered along the ground, every step seeming smooth and elegant, not a jolt in them. The town left me and I ran, my head down, watching the grass fly by, seeing only ten metres in front. Throwing myself over trunks and rocks, into forest, into dark. I felt safe in my fleeting escape but I didn't feel exhausted.
How long had I been running, it was a while. I slid to a stop, my feet digging a small trench, I looked around my heart beating as normal. I felt fine, not even slightly out of breath. I couldn't see the town anymore, the tree's wrapping all around.
A glimpse of me walking back filled my mind. But I felt uncomfortable with the thought of it, I shook my head and turned walking the way I had been running. The forest was filled with more noise, comforting in it's lack of silence. A wind had picked up through the trees and now gave a light background noise, insects made a racket in the distance and bird's filled the tree's.
I walked feeling calm, sedated by my surroundings. The forest thick not letting me see anything unless it wanted to. I brushed my gloved hands past fronds and branches, delighted at their cool touch and differing textures. I felt the water on my hands as if they weren't gloved at all, my hands felt more bloated than before, but I rubbed the water off, leaving my hands feeling dirty and dusty.
I watched the trees ahead of me, standing resolute, the leaves casting odd shadows on the ground. I could see something through them, something of grey and red. I walked cautiously, feeling slightly wary. As I got closer to the place I saw stone and cracking paint.
A ruined amphitheatre stood before, it's once brilliance shining through it's now open roof and mossy walls. Great blocks of granite and solid aging timbers making itself into something so much more ornate than stone and dead wood.
I ran my hand along the walls as I walked around, searching for an entry. My head suddenly lulling in dizziness, I staggered and slipped along the soft wall. Then with a surge it left me, my body back under my control and before me stood an entrance.
I took a long step inside, the stone at my feet feeling cold and empty. There was a painting on the wall in front of me, a painting of a girl trapped in a room, the window showing the world burning, the dimensions and curves all twisted and straightened. Yet somehow it made me feel safe, comforted.
It's beauty lost in this small enclave, trapped like that girl, waiting for someone to touch it. I turned away from it, not wanting to give it the satisfaction and as the abandoned amphitheatre filled my vision I saw only a girl who half lay, half sat in the middle, the light shining down on her as if an angel.
A brunette, her hair tied back in a tight ponytail that came only slightly down her neck. She wore the loose clothes of the people I'd seen in the village, but I felt something deeper inside. I knew this girl and with that sense brought a swell of relieved security. I knew her, yet still I did not know where from. Her face brought no name, or memory but I felt attached to her, like I should protect her, cradle her in my arms and keep her warm. She looked up at me, an empty stare on her ashen face.
"I have wonderous things to show you", I didn't move, her eye's seemed vacant and empty.
"I know what you are", the word's had escaped me without my consent. I didn't know what she was and she simply rolled her head to it's side, turning those white eyes to me.
"But I have wonderous things", doubt was settling into us both.
"I know what they are too", I lied, following my earlier blind bluff.
She sighed and tensed, her body curling over slightly. Her body changed quickly and the relief overtook her face as quickly as the pain had. The girl was still there, but now on the lower portion of her eyelid grew a hot pink stripe. The colour seemed to fit her, yet just the mention of the word in my mind brought memories of something odd.
The armour followed next, made up of plates, just like mine. And like mine it covered her body tightly, hugging her as closely as possible, her clothes sank into it, her body shrank into something less than perfect, her chest small, her ribs carrying longer than they should. The armour seemed dull even in the open light of this unroofed amphitheatre, the blue skies above shining with a happiness of days more appreciated in an earlier time. The green, brown and even the white plates that covered everything but her head and neck seemed to draw in light more than they reflected.
"He will kill you", I took a step towards her and she turned to face me. In her left eye, surrounding the crystal blue of her iris was the same pink that stood out under her eye. When she looked away I saw edges, white in the eye, perfect lines. As she looked around nervously the edges began to take shape, a star.
"Who will kill me", she smiled and stood up.
"Must you rephrase everything I say", she walked as if exhausted, her feet dragging and scraping on the floor, her body finally reaching mine, her arms wrapping themselves tightly around me, in an embrace I felt more than just her physical presence in, "he is the light, and he hates you. You betrayed him before and he want's you dead", I didn't have a clue what she was talking about, but an image came into my mind.
A white angel, a boy, I knew this boy, we were never friends, but many times associates. But I knew I had never done anything against him. She looked up at me, the pink changing to a dull red, her left eye looked sickly now, more like a blood clot in her eye than the perfect shapely star it had been.
"We are meant to be, you and I", I nodded and smiled in thanks, happy to hear the words I had been searching for since I saw her, "will you watch over me when I sleep?"
"Of course", she fell back into my chest, letting me see only the slightest smile on her lips, "do you want to sleep?", she shook her head.
"I am weak not of sleep, but of hunger, and sadly as the hunger grows stronger, catching food becomes harder", I felt suddenly sympathetic towards her.
"Do you want me to find you some food now", she stood up quickly, her eyes opened wide, her head rolling back as her neck struggled to gather strength to hold it there.
"No, we must leave here", she pushed herself off me and fell, I caught her awkwardly by the arm, and clumsily tried to pull her onto my shoulder, "I can walk"
"But you do not have to", I put my hand under her legs and lifted her into my arms, her body seemed light, even clad in the armour that had found it's way to the both of us. As she lay there in my arms she wrapped her hands across my neck and leant into me, laying still.
"I hate this war", I nodded not knowing why I did, or what she talked about and swallowed trying awkwardly to wet my mouth.
"What war?", there had been little fighting since I had walked here, just a lot of scared people.
"The war with the others", her face stayed pressed into my chest, her hands suddenly cold on my neck.
"There are others", she looked up at me and kissed me on the chin happily.
"There are many. We must find the one's who want to fight the light", that word brought a memory back into me, not a memory more of a recognition. It seemed out of place somehow, like it was badly used, or perhaps poorly chosen. Who are you stranger? I didn't know.
This was actually a dream I had that even though was kinda cliche, I liked it. I woke up thinking about it, I spent the day thinking about it and I went to bed hoping I'd dream something else like it. When I didn't, I got up and just went, nah gotta write this down before I forget it. There was alot more to go from there. Hopefully one day I'll sit down and dump where I got up to and take it somewhere from there. - Wayfaerer