Tag: nightmare

The Lake of the Nightmare Cat

“So it’s agreed, if we see a cat—any cat—we flee.” The brown rat with the black spot upon her pink nose nodded at her two partners.

The black rat with the long swishing tail nodded his head in return. The rat with fur the color of storm clouds twitched her whiskers.

All three boarded the little ship made of twig and stone, bound by fibers, sealed with resin, and thrice-blessed by their elders.

The ship was named for what its crew desired to be, Invisible.

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Tomorrow’s Train Today

I felt my gut drop.

I can’t believe I did this. How did I do this?

I’d almost missed the train. Almost. But I’d made it.

I thought I’d made it.

But I’d missed my train after all.

I was late after all.

I was a whole day late.

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A Crown of Moonbeams

“She did so come riding down out of the sky on a flying horse!”

Carmen glanced around at the rest of her friends, daring anyone else to disagree.  But no else did.  She settled her gaze on the one who had interrupted her. 

Kavita crossed her arms and peered ahead with her cool dark eyes.

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The Waking of J

And then he woke up.

He huffed out a breath and gasped.  He was covered in sweat, even though the room was cool.  His eyes were still shut, but he felt the wetness gathered at the rims of his eyelids.  He squeezed and a tear rolled down from the corner of his eye and wet the outer rim of his ear.

Right away, he calmed.  The intensity of whatever emotion he’d been feeling that brought him to tears just vanished.

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How I Defeated the Devourer

It starts off dark, and all I hear is a low, subtle pulsing. Not as rhythmic and steady as a heartbeat, but more like, the whooshing and sloshing of a washing machine. Then I can make out the clicking. Click, click, click. Multiplied. Click, click, clickclickclickclickclickclick. I see myself. And I am myself at the same time. My shoulders are drooped. I can hardly keep my eyes open. My skin feels warm, too warm.  I see myself noticing the sound and raising his—my—head. My eyes move to the left and my head turns slightly, but then stops. I need to see. But I don’t want to see. 

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Alora and the Dream Sand

It figures, she thought.

One of the containers was full of sand. A kind of pretty black glittery sand. And not the crispy savory steamy dumplings that Alora had dreamt of since leaving work that evening with the smallest of coffee stains on her collar.

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