It's dark, and I'm running. I don't know what's behind me, only that if it catches me, I'm going to wish I were dead. Terrified, I pick up the pace, trying to lift off from the ground, but the oppressive atmosphere seems to be holding me down. A tree root reaches up and snags my ankle, tripping me. I go down hard, smacking my face on the packed dirt of the path, and I hear a familiar laugh behind me. Turning, I realize it's not a monster. It's him, not someone I have to fear. I sit up and reach out, sobbing with relief as he wraps his arms around me, telling me it's all right now. He's not going to let anyone take me. I only have a moment to feel safe before he sinks his teeth into my throat, and I realize the mistake I've made.
I'm jolted out of the nightmare, waking in my room, tucked under the covers and surrounded by darkness. Sitting up, I look at my alarm clock. It's past time to get up. I'm going to be late, and everyone will be mad. I jump out of bad and dig for my clothing, intending to drag it all on at top speed. I hear a noise behind me as I grab for things. Turning, I see him standing in the doorway. He asks what I'm doing, reminds me what day it is, and I feel silly for panicking. I don't have to be anywhere. It's tomorrow that I have to get up early. He crosses the room quickly, pulling me into a gentle hug, telling me he came in because it sounded like I was crying in my sleep.
As I hesitantly tell him the nightmare, he responds with soft kisses to my forehead and words of comfort and reassurance, that he would never let anything hurt me. When I finish talking, he kisses me deeply, taking away the last vestiges of the night's terror. Feeling better, I lay my head on his shoulder, briefly opening my eyes as the sun starts to come up. He's there, standing in the doorway, shock and hurt on his face as he watches me holding onto someone else.
I turn toward the monster in my arms. It's laughing. I shove, then push energy into my hands, jolting it over and over until it's burnt to a crisp, nearly blinded by tears of shame and horror at the realization of what I've been kissing crashes over me. I turn to run to him, but he turns away from me and begins to walk away, shoulders slumped, sadness in the voice that floats back to me, "If you ever really loved me, you'd have known the difference." I run after him, but by the time I reach the doorway, he's gone.
In his place is the monster I was just attacking. I turn and look, and there on the floor in my room is my love, crumpled in a heap, his final pain still showing in his dying eyes. My shoulder is clutched in a huge hand. I feel myself spun around by the force of it, to face my attacker. The monster draws back and punches me hard in the chest.
I woke from this with pain in my chest, and palpitations like I haven't suffered in years. I have an irregular heartbeat, but it's been determined that it's non-life threatening. It doesn't usually hurt.
For several moments, I could hardly breathe as my chest alternately pounded and squeezed. I focused my mind on it slowing down, slowly forcing one breath at a time using a breathing technique that is normally for singing, pulling the air in with my belly instead of my shoulders because I couldn't get my chest to expand.
Finally, the feeling passed, and everything settled, but that was really scary. I probably should go to the doctor, but the last time this happened (and it has been a few years,) they couldn't find the cause, and I have no insurance, so I'm not going to be able to afford it.
Anyway, the pain is gone, and now all that's left is the guilt of having not been able to distinguish which character in the dream was whom. I can't seem to shake that.
Oh, and for the record... I don't even have an alarm clock. When I need an alarm, I use my phone.
Showing posts with label puzzle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label puzzle. Show all posts
Into the light
Inside of my heart is a tiny, bright little light. It's mine, and it's like a nightlight. I can feel the warmth of it, constructed of the right that is in me, my love for my family, my identity, my conscience. It is reminding me what I need to do. I reach in, and focus on it, holding on tightly.
My head hurts again, but it's not bad. I've felt much, much worse before. This is only a minor thing. I am not going to let it distract me.
I pull the light, stretching it over my whole heart, filling it with what is only me, and my will. I feel warm. I keep stretching and pulling, careful to keep the light close to, but under, the skin on the front. It has to be done just right, or this will be noticed. I stretch it over my ribs, grow it across my belly and my shoulders, down my arms and legs, through my throat and over my face, down into my hands and feet. It's like there's a blanket of light under my skin, warming my body.
Once the light has filled every inch, I begin to expand it down toward my back, letting it push out everything that is not me, not my will. The cold, dank, darkness begins to sink through my body, until I feel it pushing against the skin of my back, all except for in my head. There, I find a marker that must be left for now, or he'll know what I'm doing. I surround the marker with my light, isolate it, and harden the light into a solid covering, so that the marker is in place, but it is not touching me. It will remain, but it cannot poison me.
I push the light out through my back, feeling the nasty, clammy darkness oozing out before it like pus. I focus on rejecting that energy, pushing it down into the mat where it won't be seen. It's not mine. I don't want it. Go away!
Relief floods me as the last drop is pushed out, leaving me no longer longer feeling contaminated, no longer compromised. But now, I'm really, really tired again.
I could open my eyes, try to talk, but instead, I find myself drifting, and then there is nothing.
I had little fragments of dreams throughout the rest of the night, nothing I can really place today. It was like I was drifting in an out from the snippet dreams, into and out of one main dream about resting on a bed made with a hard mat, and a pillow of leaves. The whole time, I felt watched, the way my mother used to watch me when I was sick as a kid with really bad asthma, or the time I got bit by a mosquito and almost died of Encephalitis. I felt kind of tended to, for lack of a better term.
This morning, I feel more rested than yesterday, like I got about half a night's sleep... but now I'm definitely sure that I'm fighting a cold... probably a sinus infection. My son is sick, too, so we're headed off to get checked out. I swear, I have never produced this much snot in my entire life!
The word of the day is: Blaaaaaaaaaaaaugh!
My head hurts again, but it's not bad. I've felt much, much worse before. This is only a minor thing. I am not going to let it distract me.
I pull the light, stretching it over my whole heart, filling it with what is only me, and my will. I feel warm. I keep stretching and pulling, careful to keep the light close to, but under, the skin on the front. It has to be done just right, or this will be noticed. I stretch it over my ribs, grow it across my belly and my shoulders, down my arms and legs, through my throat and over my face, down into my hands and feet. It's like there's a blanket of light under my skin, warming my body.
Once the light has filled every inch, I begin to expand it down toward my back, letting it push out everything that is not me, not my will. The cold, dank, darkness begins to sink through my body, until I feel it pushing against the skin of my back, all except for in my head. There, I find a marker that must be left for now, or he'll know what I'm doing. I surround the marker with my light, isolate it, and harden the light into a solid covering, so that the marker is in place, but it is not touching me. It will remain, but it cannot poison me.
I push the light out through my back, feeling the nasty, clammy darkness oozing out before it like pus. I focus on rejecting that energy, pushing it down into the mat where it won't be seen. It's not mine. I don't want it. Go away!
Relief floods me as the last drop is pushed out, leaving me no longer longer feeling contaminated, no longer compromised. But now, I'm really, really tired again.
I could open my eyes, try to talk, but instead, I find myself drifting, and then there is nothing.
I had little fragments of dreams throughout the rest of the night, nothing I can really place today. It was like I was drifting in an out from the snippet dreams, into and out of one main dream about resting on a bed made with a hard mat, and a pillow of leaves. The whole time, I felt watched, the way my mother used to watch me when I was sick as a kid with really bad asthma, or the time I got bit by a mosquito and almost died of Encephalitis. I felt kind of tended to, for lack of a better term.
This morning, I feel more rested than yesterday, like I got about half a night's sleep... but now I'm definitely sure that I'm fighting a cold... probably a sinus infection. My son is sick, too, so we're headed off to get checked out. I swear, I have never produced this much snot in my entire life!
The word of the day is: Blaaaaaaaaaaaaugh!
Temper and a tempest
I'm cold and wet. It's dark, except in a few spots where the sun breaks through the clouds. Rain is falling all around me, and the tide is coming in. The sand under my feet is treacherous, slipping out from under me with each step, and if that isn't enough, there's a wind blowing hard enough to threaten to blow me off of my feet. I am absolutely miserable. I just want to get inside.
I'm searching along the side of the building, trying to find the door. I seem to remember being here before, but for some reason, I don't think I'm going to be able to get in. Moving all the way around the place, I confirm my suspicion. There is no entrance. I find a spot where the roof hangs over, and huddle underneath that. It provides little shelter, but at least less rain is hitting me.
I look out into the storm. There was someone here before, but now there isn't. I'm all alone.
I should be able to shape this. There are sunbeams coming through thin spots in the clouds, off in the distance. I can still use the energy from the sun. After a moment of reaching out, I can feel it. I draw it in, and try forming a small shelter up against the side of the building. It's kind of like half of a wigwam, with the open end right up against the wall of the building. Under the wigwam, I can hear the weather outside taking a turn for the worse. Thunder rolls across the sky, and the rain pounds my shelter so hard it sounds like hail.
I use energy to fortify the wigwam, then turn my attention to the wall. This temporary shelter is keeping me dry right now, but if the weather keeps getting worse, I'm going to need something better. I put both hands on the wall. I think of the wood temporarily becoming flexible, like a hanging curtain. I feel it relax, and move under my fingers. I pull several boards to the side, and look in. It's very dark. I can see what looks like a restaurant table a chair. I step through the wall/curtain, let it fall behind me, and make it solid again.
Now it won't matter if the wigwam blows away. I'm in a sturdier building, and the rain isn't getting in here.
It's completely dark in here. Feeling to see if I can still reach the energy from the sun, I'm able to produce a small glowing ball. I see a light switch on the wall, and I flip that up. Some of the areas on the ceiling light up. Oddly, they don't look like light bulbs. It looks like there's a mini-sun in here, and some other little round orbs that could be other suns. The ceiling is really dark blue, and the walls are dark brown, but the room still seems brightly lit.
The room actually seems to be some kind of a studio. Beside me, there is a drawing table positioned like the paste-up tables I used to work with at the newspaper (it's on a slant) and stocked with paper and art supplies. Further away, there's a tripod and a camera, and a backdrop stand. Beside the stand, there are a few different backdrops on the floor. Across the room is a chair surrounded by crochet and knitting supplies. A few feet away from that is a desk with a computer hooked up to a scanner and two printers. There are images sitting in the tray of one printer, and there are typed pages on the tray of another.
Next to the space where the computer set-up is, there is another table, this one laying flat. It's about a third covered in fabric, sewing tools, findings, and accessories. Mixed in with those items are jewelry making supplies. There is a dressmaker's dummy with a partially made outfit, and there are mannequin parts with partially made jewelry pieces on them.
There's a loud tapping noise on the roof, and then suddenly there are a whole lot of loud tapping noises. I wasn't imagining it earlier; that is definitely hail. I can hear the whistle of high winds, and the building shakes. Using some of the energy I pulled earlier, I thicken the walls. As I turn back to look at the room again, I see a trap door in the floor.
Curiosity compels me to open it, but my mind makes up the excuse that if there's hail, there will probably be a tornado. Maybe there's an underground tunnel leading away from the beach. Maybe it goes to another building, and that's why there was no door to get in here. I start to lift the door, and a child's voice from behind me says, "I wouldn't."
I spin around to see the voice's owner, a little girl of about 10 years old. At first glance, I only notice that every single thing she's wearing is pink, right down to the frames of her glasses. I had a pair of glasses exactly like those when I was her age. As I notice the frames, I really see her face for the first time, and realize she could be my 5th grade twin. She looks suspicious of me, and asks, "What are you doing in here? How did you get in?"
I tell her I'm sorry for intruding, and that I only came in because of the storm outside. I figure she has to know I've been out in it - I look like a drowned rat. I ask if it's all right if I stay in here until it blows over, and she looks at me like I've said the stupidest thing in the world. She says, "It's only storming like that because you pissed him off and then let him get away. And don't go into the cellar. You don't want to confront what you keep down there."
I ask the little girl who she is, and she rolls her eyes at me. "Oh-mih-GAWD. Do NOT tell me you're seriously asking me that." She executes a melodramatic flounce, and begins putting something together on the sewing/jewelry table. When I wait for more of an answer, she continues with, "Well, I can't tell you, anyway. It's not like I have a name or anything. Jeez . Anyway, you shouldn't be here. This is my place, not yours. You can dry off, but you're eventually going to have to go back outside, and you can't let him see you... did he see you come in here?"
I start to say that I don't think so, but then there's a loud thunk on the side of the building. I hear the wigwam crunch apart. Her eyes widen, and she says, "He may not have seen, but he knows you're here. You have to go!"
I start to ask how I'm going to get out without him seeing the opening, when suddenly I'm back on the beach. I'm in a sunny spot, but there's a storm raging all around. It's like I'm in the eye. I can see him walking along the edge of the water, heading my way. I can see hail hitting the roof of the building, and the wigwam being battered by the wind. I call the energy I used to make it back into myself, and it kind of dissolves. I want to make sure that building and the child inside are safe. I move the sand, piling it up around the walls, until the entire building is inside a huge dune. I pack it down, then melt the outer inch depth of sand and solidify it so that it's basically glass. Then, I work on my shield, making it like a narrow egg shape around my body.
Lightning strikes out on the water, then another flash strikes the sand near where I am standing. Finally, a flash strikes my shield. I hear a sound like a bomb going off in my head, but no damage is done. The shield holds.
I think to myself, so, he wants to play with the weather? That's my game. I do this all the time. It's my favorite toy.
I reach out and feel the storm. It feels like he's focusing on one thing at a time. He's gotten the storm going, and he set rain falling, hail stones falling, and wind moving, but is now ignoring all of that to use lightning. The entire rest of his creation is vulnerable.
I begin increasing the wind, but not at ground level where he'll notice. Instead, I move the air way over our heads, just below the clouds, creating a downdraft that hits the water a little out to sea, and behind his position. I move the air harder and faster, and pretty soon it's pulling other air along with it. I let go and watch as a funnel cloud forms, dropping down to the water. I grab it again, pulling it closer until he can hear the tell-tale whistle.
He turns to see it, then shoots a look of shock and indignation back over his shoulder at me. I wave at him. He grits his teeth and turns away from me, and suddenly I can feel an icy energy trying to remove my mental grip on the tornado, causing it to waver and threaten to disperse into the wind.
I flip the tail and smack him with it, picking him up, spinning him around, and tossing him into the air. He lands hard on his side, rolling across the sand before landing near me. I can see that his clothing is burned on one side, and he has scars on his arm, and on the skin under all of the rips.
He ducks his head and balls his hands into fists, and I feel his energy pushing against mine again.
I blast him with a gust of wind from the other side, and he falls over. He starts to get back up, and I pull another funnel cloud down from the sky, so that there's one on either side of him. Neither of them are huge, but the winds from both of them are battering him pretty well. He is getting hit by driftwood, shells, and hail, and scoured by blowing sand.
He puts his hands up on either side of him, and I can feel that cold, clammy energy again, trying to wrestle control away from me. I push, and the tornadoes move closer to him. I pull down a third one behind him. I've now got the thunder and lightning worked into a rhythm, with the cyclones whistling along, almost making the storm into a song. He turns around and looks at me again. I'm dancing with excitement as I trace a finger through the air, and lightning follows it across the sky, then down to the sand, striking the beach with a loud boom. I grin at him, then hit the sand with a wind sheer that kicks a huge cloud of it several feet into the air, like a bomb went off under it. Sand rains down on his head. He looks like he's taken a bite of something unappetizing, but can't spit it out. I'm feeling really triumphant, and quite proud. Playing with storms is something I'm good at.
He suddenly launches himself at me, moving so fast I don't even think to react before I'm tackled.
I forgot to maintain my shield. I put every ounce of energy I had into my little show. I realize it's gone as he knocks me down and lands right on top of me. I push him away, but he's got a grip on my arm with one hand. He slashes at me with the other, scraping along the front of my armor, which fortunately hasn't disappeared.
When he can't claw through my clothing, he balls up a fist and tries to punch me. I take the opportunity, while he's off balance, to throw him off of me. Scrambling backward, I begin indiscriminately pulling energy from the storm, trying to focus on shielding myself. In doing so, I end up sucking in the entire storm, taking both my energy, and his. It's nasty, like having to put on a smelly, sweaty article of clothing after a shower. I don't like it, and I don't want it, but since I have it, I use it to blast the sand around him again, kicking it up into his face and over his head to keep him busy while I shield myself. What I'm able to form quickly doesn't look right to me. It's got spikes, and it covers me, but it's oddly dark, like smoky glass.
For a moment, he doesn't move at all, just sits there in the wet sand, giving me a slack-jawed stare. I figure I must have stunned him. I step forward. He sits up a little, but doesn't take any action. I realize I still feel that cold, clammy touch, and I wonder if he put all of his power into that storm. I throw a gust of wind into the sand again, blasting him with it, and he does nothing but stare at me. His jaw moves like he's about to try to speak, but he doesn't. His eyes are more open than normal. I can almost see the top of his irises. Is that what he looks like when he's afraid?
My next thought is that if I can keep him out with a shield, I can keep him inside of one, too.
As he sits there, I work on building a bubble over him. It's different from encasing myself, because I'm not doing it from the inside, I'm doing it from the outside. The energy wants to form a box instead of a sphere. Instead of correcting the problem, I let it be that way. He sits there and watches me. As I walk around the box to make sure it is complete, he turns his head to follow my movements. I notice that one corner of his mouth has turned up.
I know something is wrong. The box is as smoky as my shield. I can feel that it's solid, and completely closed, but why isn't it clear, like normal, and why is he looking at me like that? I momentarily lower my shield to reach out and physically touch the box. Aside from the color, I can't find anything out of the ordinary. It feels like my shield always feels, a lot like glass. If I concentrate, I can reach right through my shield, as though reaching through a liquid, because it's energy that I've drawn through myself, and it's attuned to me.
As I place my fingers on the wall of the box, he stands up and steps toward me, still looking kind of stunned. Maybe now I can get him to talk to me.
"What do you want? Why do you keep attacking me?" I know he's replied to this, but he really hasn't given me an answer.
He acts like he's going to speak, but no sound comes out. I'm wondering if I made the box too heavy. Without thinking, I reach out and tap on it like a window. Fast as lightning, he reaches through it, folds his fingers around my hand, and grins broadly.
That cold, clammy feeling. . . the energy that made the storm was drawn through him, manipulated by him. And I drew it into me and used it. I used it to make the box, and I'd used it to make my shield. He could have gotten through the whole time.
He says, "You have quite an appetite."
I try to pull away from him. I don't want him touching me, even if it's not an outright attack - and it's not, because he hasn't even come the rest of the way out of the box. He doesn't let go of my hand, and even though I'm a bit taller than he is, and I'd guess that I outweigh him, he's got quite a grip. More than that, I can feel a pull through the palm of my hand, pulling on that energy, and on my focus.
I don't know what he's doing, but it can't be good. I make a mental stab at blocking off my hand, but I can still feel that pull. I pull back against it. Immediately, I get another taste of that icky, cold clammy feeling, and then he's pulling harder. I feel my control slipping away.
I say, "Good dodge. Not gonna answer me?"
I double my effort, pulling it back, and feel his claws dig into the back of my hand. Blood runs down onto my wrist. He's trying to use pain to distract me.
He steps through the wall of the box, right into my personal space, and says, "I told you, I want to get through." Even his breath is freezing cold. I'm completely repulsed. I want to pull away and run, but I know that won't do any good.
I give a hard pull, drawing something into myself that isn't me. It's not anything like the energy I've been manipulating. It makes my hand feel freezing cold. It's almost a burning kind of cold, like temperatures that cause frostbite. Intense, searing pain fills the bones in my hand. Whatever I just brought in has found my arthritis.
I realize that this won't end well for me. If I win the tug-of-war, I'm going to be filled with something terrible that feels like it might kill me. If I lose, he most certainly will. I have to change the rules.
I ask him where "through" will take him. He gives me a momentary look of confusion, then says, "You don't remember?"
He grabs my other hand, and starts to pull back, taking through both of them. I let the icky energy go, but try to hold on to my own. At the same time, I'm thinking about my family, how much I love them, and how much I want to protect them. I focus on the things about myself that make me proud to be me. I dwell on the joy I find in everyday things, and in the people who are closest to me. I use those thoughts build up a bright, warm energy within myself.
I ask what I'm supposed to be remembering.
I still feel the tug on my own supply. I don't seem to be able to separate those two energies from each other just by willpower. The warm brightness, though, seems to be untainted. I hold out, pulling just hard enough to keep him from getting anything, but not hard enough to subject myself to another burst of freezing cold.
His look of confusion changes to surprise. Instead of answering me, he says, "You don't remember. I can't believe you don't remember. Why are you even fighting me?"
I tell him, "Because you tried to take whatever it is you're after without my consent. You never even tried a peaceful path."
I move the warm, bright energy I've built up, letting it flow down through my arms and into my hands, displacing what's there with it. When he pulls again, I let it flow, pushing it through the connection he chose to make when he grabbed my hands. The feeling of it moving is so opposite the way what came from him felt, it has to do some kind of damage.
Except, it doesn't. I feel the energy flow from my hands, and into his. I can even see that it's affecting him. The pale skin of his hands takes on a little more color. His fingers twitch, pulling away from my hands, and he lets go. I can see that even his face is less pale, especially around the cheeks. Once again, he gives me that slack-jawed, wide-eyed stare. He backs up against the wall of the box. It cracks, then shatters and melts into the sand.
Only thing is, he doesn't look injured. He just looks really, really surprised. He blinks - which until now, I haven't seen him ever do. Even that is weird. His upper eyelids move down to meet his lower ones, but the lower ones don't move up, so it looks like his upper eyelids are really long, and the blink is kind of slow.
I'm all ready working on building up more energy, trying to figure out a way to knock him down before he snaps out of it and retaliates, but he doesn't. He just asks me if I realize what I've just done. Now it's my turn to be confused, and I can feel that it shows on my face. For a moment, he actually looks pensive and a little amused, but then he seems to snap out of it.
He says, "I still want through. I want through." He takes an aggressive posture, and then does absolutely nothing, just stands there. I don't even know what to do right now. I fully expected that positive energy would hurt him because he seems so evil. It didn't. I'm at a complete loss. I take a defensive stance and seriously hope that he makes the fight physical, because then I might have a chance.
Instead, he seems to melt into yet another swarm of bugs, but this time is different. Normally, the swarm is made up of wasps that look like Great Black wasps but are over 2 inches long. This time, it is a swarm of tiny, silvery-black butterflies, each no more than an inch. The swarm flies right at me and totally surrounds me for a moment, flying so close that I can feel some of them brushing up against my face and hands. I expect an attack, and try to focus energy on them, but nothing happens. There is no attack from either of us, and the butterflies move out of my reach and keep going until I can't see them any more.
I hear a noise behind me. I turn to see the little girl from inside the beach shack walking toward me on the sand. She gets up close, gives me an angry and incredulous look, and shoves me with a loud yell, "You IDIOT!"
I feel myself falling backward.
From there, this turned into one of those falling dreams, where you feel like you're falling endlessly. I woke when I "landed" on the bed. It was the weirdest thing - it really felt like she'd pushed me out of my own dream experience.
I'm pretty sure she's me, or part of me, because she looked just like my ten-year-old self, right down to my first pair of glasses. I don't know exactly what she represents, but it's got to be connected to my creative side, because her 'room' was full of arts and crafts that interest me.
Out of the whole screwed up dream, the thing that has messed with my head the most is the butterflies. They're the only non-stinging bug-like thing I've seen the whole time I've been dreaming about this particular monster, and the reason they bother me is that they don't fit the pattern. There's always something scary, never something nice. I really feel like it has to be some kind of a mental trap.
A note about the storm - playing with tornadoes was one of the first lucid things I ever did while dreaming. I absolutely love storms, particularly electrical storms, and am fascinated by tornadoes. I guess I just explored that to a more "me" kind of level in dreams growing up, and now it's kind of second nature. It doesn't even take any effort most of the time.
I'm searching along the side of the building, trying to find the door. I seem to remember being here before, but for some reason, I don't think I'm going to be able to get in. Moving all the way around the place, I confirm my suspicion. There is no entrance. I find a spot where the roof hangs over, and huddle underneath that. It provides little shelter, but at least less rain is hitting me.
I look out into the storm. There was someone here before, but now there isn't. I'm all alone.
I should be able to shape this. There are sunbeams coming through thin spots in the clouds, off in the distance. I can still use the energy from the sun. After a moment of reaching out, I can feel it. I draw it in, and try forming a small shelter up against the side of the building. It's kind of like half of a wigwam, with the open end right up against the wall of the building. Under the wigwam, I can hear the weather outside taking a turn for the worse. Thunder rolls across the sky, and the rain pounds my shelter so hard it sounds like hail.
I use energy to fortify the wigwam, then turn my attention to the wall. This temporary shelter is keeping me dry right now, but if the weather keeps getting worse, I'm going to need something better. I put both hands on the wall. I think of the wood temporarily becoming flexible, like a hanging curtain. I feel it relax, and move under my fingers. I pull several boards to the side, and look in. It's very dark. I can see what looks like a restaurant table a chair. I step through the wall/curtain, let it fall behind me, and make it solid again.
Now it won't matter if the wigwam blows away. I'm in a sturdier building, and the rain isn't getting in here.
It's completely dark in here. Feeling to see if I can still reach the energy from the sun, I'm able to produce a small glowing ball. I see a light switch on the wall, and I flip that up. Some of the areas on the ceiling light up. Oddly, they don't look like light bulbs. It looks like there's a mini-sun in here, and some other little round orbs that could be other suns. The ceiling is really dark blue, and the walls are dark brown, but the room still seems brightly lit.
The room actually seems to be some kind of a studio. Beside me, there is a drawing table positioned like the paste-up tables I used to work with at the newspaper (it's on a slant) and stocked with paper and art supplies. Further away, there's a tripod and a camera, and a backdrop stand. Beside the stand, there are a few different backdrops on the floor. Across the room is a chair surrounded by crochet and knitting supplies. A few feet away from that is a desk with a computer hooked up to a scanner and two printers. There are images sitting in the tray of one printer, and there are typed pages on the tray of another.
Next to the space where the computer set-up is, there is another table, this one laying flat. It's about a third covered in fabric, sewing tools, findings, and accessories. Mixed in with those items are jewelry making supplies. There is a dressmaker's dummy with a partially made outfit, and there are mannequin parts with partially made jewelry pieces on them.
There's a loud tapping noise on the roof, and then suddenly there are a whole lot of loud tapping noises. I wasn't imagining it earlier; that is definitely hail. I can hear the whistle of high winds, and the building shakes. Using some of the energy I pulled earlier, I thicken the walls. As I turn back to look at the room again, I see a trap door in the floor.
Curiosity compels me to open it, but my mind makes up the excuse that if there's hail, there will probably be a tornado. Maybe there's an underground tunnel leading away from the beach. Maybe it goes to another building, and that's why there was no door to get in here. I start to lift the door, and a child's voice from behind me says, "I wouldn't."
I spin around to see the voice's owner, a little girl of about 10 years old. At first glance, I only notice that every single thing she's wearing is pink, right down to the frames of her glasses. I had a pair of glasses exactly like those when I was her age. As I notice the frames, I really see her face for the first time, and realize she could be my 5th grade twin. She looks suspicious of me, and asks, "What are you doing in here? How did you get in?"
I tell her I'm sorry for intruding, and that I only came in because of the storm outside. I figure she has to know I've been out in it - I look like a drowned rat. I ask if it's all right if I stay in here until it blows over, and she looks at me like I've said the stupidest thing in the world. She says, "It's only storming like that because you pissed him off and then let him get away. And don't go into the cellar. You don't want to confront what you keep down there."
I ask the little girl who she is, and she rolls her eyes at me. "Oh-mih-GAWD. Do NOT tell me you're seriously asking me that." She executes a melodramatic flounce, and begins putting something together on the sewing/jewelry table. When I wait for more of an answer, she continues with, "Well, I can't tell you, anyway. It's not like I have a name or anything. Jeez . Anyway, you shouldn't be here. This is my place, not yours. You can dry off, but you're eventually going to have to go back outside, and you can't let him see you... did he see you come in here?"
I start to say that I don't think so, but then there's a loud thunk on the side of the building. I hear the wigwam crunch apart. Her eyes widen, and she says, "He may not have seen, but he knows you're here. You have to go!"
I start to ask how I'm going to get out without him seeing the opening, when suddenly I'm back on the beach. I'm in a sunny spot, but there's a storm raging all around. It's like I'm in the eye. I can see him walking along the edge of the water, heading my way. I can see hail hitting the roof of the building, and the wigwam being battered by the wind. I call the energy I used to make it back into myself, and it kind of dissolves. I want to make sure that building and the child inside are safe. I move the sand, piling it up around the walls, until the entire building is inside a huge dune. I pack it down, then melt the outer inch depth of sand and solidify it so that it's basically glass. Then, I work on my shield, making it like a narrow egg shape around my body.
Lightning strikes out on the water, then another flash strikes the sand near where I am standing. Finally, a flash strikes my shield. I hear a sound like a bomb going off in my head, but no damage is done. The shield holds.
I think to myself, so, he wants to play with the weather? That's my game. I do this all the time. It's my favorite toy.
I reach out and feel the storm. It feels like he's focusing on one thing at a time. He's gotten the storm going, and he set rain falling, hail stones falling, and wind moving, but is now ignoring all of that to use lightning. The entire rest of his creation is vulnerable.
I begin increasing the wind, but not at ground level where he'll notice. Instead, I move the air way over our heads, just below the clouds, creating a downdraft that hits the water a little out to sea, and behind his position. I move the air harder and faster, and pretty soon it's pulling other air along with it. I let go and watch as a funnel cloud forms, dropping down to the water. I grab it again, pulling it closer until he can hear the tell-tale whistle.
He turns to see it, then shoots a look of shock and indignation back over his shoulder at me. I wave at him. He grits his teeth and turns away from me, and suddenly I can feel an icy energy trying to remove my mental grip on the tornado, causing it to waver and threaten to disperse into the wind.
I flip the tail and smack him with it, picking him up, spinning him around, and tossing him into the air. He lands hard on his side, rolling across the sand before landing near me. I can see that his clothing is burned on one side, and he has scars on his arm, and on the skin under all of the rips.
He ducks his head and balls his hands into fists, and I feel his energy pushing against mine again.
I blast him with a gust of wind from the other side, and he falls over. He starts to get back up, and I pull another funnel cloud down from the sky, so that there's one on either side of him. Neither of them are huge, but the winds from both of them are battering him pretty well. He is getting hit by driftwood, shells, and hail, and scoured by blowing sand.
He puts his hands up on either side of him, and I can feel that cold, clammy energy again, trying to wrestle control away from me. I push, and the tornadoes move closer to him. I pull down a third one behind him. I've now got the thunder and lightning worked into a rhythm, with the cyclones whistling along, almost making the storm into a song. He turns around and looks at me again. I'm dancing with excitement as I trace a finger through the air, and lightning follows it across the sky, then down to the sand, striking the beach with a loud boom. I grin at him, then hit the sand with a wind sheer that kicks a huge cloud of it several feet into the air, like a bomb went off under it. Sand rains down on his head. He looks like he's taken a bite of something unappetizing, but can't spit it out. I'm feeling really triumphant, and quite proud. Playing with storms is something I'm good at.
He suddenly launches himself at me, moving so fast I don't even think to react before I'm tackled.
I forgot to maintain my shield. I put every ounce of energy I had into my little show. I realize it's gone as he knocks me down and lands right on top of me. I push him away, but he's got a grip on my arm with one hand. He slashes at me with the other, scraping along the front of my armor, which fortunately hasn't disappeared.
When he can't claw through my clothing, he balls up a fist and tries to punch me. I take the opportunity, while he's off balance, to throw him off of me. Scrambling backward, I begin indiscriminately pulling energy from the storm, trying to focus on shielding myself. In doing so, I end up sucking in the entire storm, taking both my energy, and his. It's nasty, like having to put on a smelly, sweaty article of clothing after a shower. I don't like it, and I don't want it, but since I have it, I use it to blast the sand around him again, kicking it up into his face and over his head to keep him busy while I shield myself. What I'm able to form quickly doesn't look right to me. It's got spikes, and it covers me, but it's oddly dark, like smoky glass.
For a moment, he doesn't move at all, just sits there in the wet sand, giving me a slack-jawed stare. I figure I must have stunned him. I step forward. He sits up a little, but doesn't take any action. I realize I still feel that cold, clammy touch, and I wonder if he put all of his power into that storm. I throw a gust of wind into the sand again, blasting him with it, and he does nothing but stare at me. His jaw moves like he's about to try to speak, but he doesn't. His eyes are more open than normal. I can almost see the top of his irises. Is that what he looks like when he's afraid?
My next thought is that if I can keep him out with a shield, I can keep him inside of one, too.
As he sits there, I work on building a bubble over him. It's different from encasing myself, because I'm not doing it from the inside, I'm doing it from the outside. The energy wants to form a box instead of a sphere. Instead of correcting the problem, I let it be that way. He sits there and watches me. As I walk around the box to make sure it is complete, he turns his head to follow my movements. I notice that one corner of his mouth has turned up.
I know something is wrong. The box is as smoky as my shield. I can feel that it's solid, and completely closed, but why isn't it clear, like normal, and why is he looking at me like that? I momentarily lower my shield to reach out and physically touch the box. Aside from the color, I can't find anything out of the ordinary. It feels like my shield always feels, a lot like glass. If I concentrate, I can reach right through my shield, as though reaching through a liquid, because it's energy that I've drawn through myself, and it's attuned to me.
As I place my fingers on the wall of the box, he stands up and steps toward me, still looking kind of stunned. Maybe now I can get him to talk to me.
"What do you want? Why do you keep attacking me?" I know he's replied to this, but he really hasn't given me an answer.
He acts like he's going to speak, but no sound comes out. I'm wondering if I made the box too heavy. Without thinking, I reach out and tap on it like a window. Fast as lightning, he reaches through it, folds his fingers around my hand, and grins broadly.
That cold, clammy feeling. . . the energy that made the storm was drawn through him, manipulated by him. And I drew it into me and used it. I used it to make the box, and I'd used it to make my shield. He could have gotten through the whole time.
He says, "You have quite an appetite."
I try to pull away from him. I don't want him touching me, even if it's not an outright attack - and it's not, because he hasn't even come the rest of the way out of the box. He doesn't let go of my hand, and even though I'm a bit taller than he is, and I'd guess that I outweigh him, he's got quite a grip. More than that, I can feel a pull through the palm of my hand, pulling on that energy, and on my focus.
I don't know what he's doing, but it can't be good. I make a mental stab at blocking off my hand, but I can still feel that pull. I pull back against it. Immediately, I get another taste of that icky, cold clammy feeling, and then he's pulling harder. I feel my control slipping away.
I say, "Good dodge. Not gonna answer me?"
I double my effort, pulling it back, and feel his claws dig into the back of my hand. Blood runs down onto my wrist. He's trying to use pain to distract me.
He steps through the wall of the box, right into my personal space, and says, "I told you, I want to get through." Even his breath is freezing cold. I'm completely repulsed. I want to pull away and run, but I know that won't do any good.
I give a hard pull, drawing something into myself that isn't me. It's not anything like the energy I've been manipulating. It makes my hand feel freezing cold. It's almost a burning kind of cold, like temperatures that cause frostbite. Intense, searing pain fills the bones in my hand. Whatever I just brought in has found my arthritis.
I realize that this won't end well for me. If I win the tug-of-war, I'm going to be filled with something terrible that feels like it might kill me. If I lose, he most certainly will. I have to change the rules.
I ask him where "through" will take him. He gives me a momentary look of confusion, then says, "You don't remember?"
He grabs my other hand, and starts to pull back, taking through both of them. I let the icky energy go, but try to hold on to my own. At the same time, I'm thinking about my family, how much I love them, and how much I want to protect them. I focus on the things about myself that make me proud to be me. I dwell on the joy I find in everyday things, and in the people who are closest to me. I use those thoughts build up a bright, warm energy within myself.
I ask what I'm supposed to be remembering.
I still feel the tug on my own supply. I don't seem to be able to separate those two energies from each other just by willpower. The warm brightness, though, seems to be untainted. I hold out, pulling just hard enough to keep him from getting anything, but not hard enough to subject myself to another burst of freezing cold.
His look of confusion changes to surprise. Instead of answering me, he says, "You don't remember. I can't believe you don't remember. Why are you even fighting me?"
I tell him, "Because you tried to take whatever it is you're after without my consent. You never even tried a peaceful path."
I move the warm, bright energy I've built up, letting it flow down through my arms and into my hands, displacing what's there with it. When he pulls again, I let it flow, pushing it through the connection he chose to make when he grabbed my hands. The feeling of it moving is so opposite the way what came from him felt, it has to do some kind of damage.
Except, it doesn't. I feel the energy flow from my hands, and into his. I can even see that it's affecting him. The pale skin of his hands takes on a little more color. His fingers twitch, pulling away from my hands, and he lets go. I can see that even his face is less pale, especially around the cheeks. Once again, he gives me that slack-jawed, wide-eyed stare. He backs up against the wall of the box. It cracks, then shatters and melts into the sand.
Only thing is, he doesn't look injured. He just looks really, really surprised. He blinks - which until now, I haven't seen him ever do. Even that is weird. His upper eyelids move down to meet his lower ones, but the lower ones don't move up, so it looks like his upper eyelids are really long, and the blink is kind of slow.
I'm all ready working on building up more energy, trying to figure out a way to knock him down before he snaps out of it and retaliates, but he doesn't. He just asks me if I realize what I've just done. Now it's my turn to be confused, and I can feel that it shows on my face. For a moment, he actually looks pensive and a little amused, but then he seems to snap out of it.
He says, "I still want through. I want through." He takes an aggressive posture, and then does absolutely nothing, just stands there. I don't even know what to do right now. I fully expected that positive energy would hurt him because he seems so evil. It didn't. I'm at a complete loss. I take a defensive stance and seriously hope that he makes the fight physical, because then I might have a chance.
Instead, he seems to melt into yet another swarm of bugs, but this time is different. Normally, the swarm is made up of wasps that look like Great Black wasps but are over 2 inches long. This time, it is a swarm of tiny, silvery-black butterflies, each no more than an inch. The swarm flies right at me and totally surrounds me for a moment, flying so close that I can feel some of them brushing up against my face and hands. I expect an attack, and try to focus energy on them, but nothing happens. There is no attack from either of us, and the butterflies move out of my reach and keep going until I can't see them any more.
I hear a noise behind me. I turn to see the little girl from inside the beach shack walking toward me on the sand. She gets up close, gives me an angry and incredulous look, and shoves me with a loud yell, "You IDIOT!"
I feel myself falling backward.
From there, this turned into one of those falling dreams, where you feel like you're falling endlessly. I woke when I "landed" on the bed. It was the weirdest thing - it really felt like she'd pushed me out of my own dream experience.
I'm pretty sure she's me, or part of me, because she looked just like my ten-year-old self, right down to my first pair of glasses. I don't know exactly what she represents, but it's got to be connected to my creative side, because her 'room' was full of arts and crafts that interest me.
Out of the whole screwed up dream, the thing that has messed with my head the most is the butterflies. They're the only non-stinging bug-like thing I've seen the whole time I've been dreaming about this particular monster, and the reason they bother me is that they don't fit the pattern. There's always something scary, never something nice. I really feel like it has to be some kind of a mental trap.
A note about the storm - playing with tornadoes was one of the first lucid things I ever did while dreaming. I absolutely love storms, particularly electrical storms, and am fascinated by tornadoes. I guess I just explored that to a more "me" kind of level in dreams growing up, and now it's kind of second nature. It doesn't even take any effort most of the time.
Sunny beaches
I'm walking along a beach, staying on the wet sand close to the water because the dry sand is hot. The water and sand stretch out both in front of me and behind me as far as I can see in either direction. Off to my left, beyond yards and yards of sand, is a short fence, and on the other side of that there are buildings. In front of me, off in the distance, I can see a little shack that might be a snack bar.
It's very bright and sunny outside, with only a little breeze. I'm feeling really, really warm, even though my clothing is lightweight and loose. The heat soothes my sore shoulders and back, but it feels like my arms and legs are a little sunburned. I can see that my forearms are pink, but I also have a vague memory of being attacked by bugs, and I think they caused the redness.
I enjoy strolling along, absorbing the sunlight. I feel like I can use it to make my arms feel better. I give the idea a try, picturing the redness and irritation fading, the skin returning to normal. I open my eyes, and watch it happening just as I'd imagined.
There's no one else on the beach. I'm not even seeing any birds or bugs, and no fish in the water. It's just me here. I decide to take the opportunity to practice manipulating things.
I feel the energy around me, then draw on it to create a big splash in the water near me, sending a cascade of raining drops out onto the waves. I try shaping it, pushing the water out away from me to reveal more sand and shells, in an arc with about a 10 foot radius. I let the water fall back in, then pull it up into kind of a column shape, and let it fall again.
I try "splashing" the sand the way I did the water. It works. I'm also able to "dig" a hole, turning up a few larger shells, and some sticks. I shape the sand into a big block, then use my finger as a pointer, directing the energy around the sides to create bricks and turrets with windows. Then, I focus a strong wind on it, blowing it away a little at a time until it's just a dune.
I keep walking, getting closer to the shack on the sand. I feel like there's something important, but hard to get, waiting in there for me. It's slow going. The shack is farther away than I originally thought. I can see that I am getting closer. It's just not happening as quickly as I expected. Obviously, I need a faster means of transport than my feet.
I decide to go up a little. Rising off of the sand, I float about ten feet above the ground. I hover over the water for a moment, then shoot forward as fast as a bird, making a beeline toward that little building. It still takes a few minutes to close the distance. If I'd continued walking, getting there would have taken forever. When I do get there, I realize that the building is much bigger than I originally thought. It's not a little snack bar. It's the size of a house, or maybe a restaurant.
I think I'd better be ready before going in there. I stand still and focus on making armor and a shield. The armor looks like regular clothing, but I can feel that it's stronger than steel. Outside of that, I gather a sphere of protective energy, harden it so that it's solid, and build spikes on the outside. I add more energy to the shield, so that it crackles. Then, I make the whole thing invisible. I can feel it there, and I can see a faint outline, but it's now hidden from anyone else's eyes. Anyone or anything that tries to sneak up on me is going to get a nasty surprise.
I start looking for a way into the building. Facing the beach, there's a deck with tables and chairs, but I see no windows or doors in the adjoining walls. I walk around the side, counter-clockwise because I came from the direction that would be left of the building if facing it from the water. On the other side, there's still no door, but there's a narrow stone walkway leading toward what, by process of elimination, must be the front of the building.
There's no door here, either. There's a long, narrow porch, but no door.
Thinking that maybe I missed it, I circle back around to the side I first approached. It's just a solid wall. Close to the corner, set into the sand, is what looks like a utility meter that has been painted over. I look closely, but the paint is thick and solid. I wonder if the door is also painted over.
I start looking more closely. Examining every panel of wood, searching for a keyhole or a doorknob, maybe painted over, I very slowly move around the building again. There's absolutely nothing, not even a knot in the wood.
From behind me, I hear a familiar voice. "Frustrating, isn't it?"
Turning around, I see that he's gone back to looking mostly human. His eyes are still a sore looking mess, but aside from that, he could just be a scrawny little man with bad hair.
I ask why he's here, but all I get back from him is a quizzical stare. I forge on. "Well, you seemed to be unable to accomplish whatever it was you wanted before, and now you don't have any help. Why are you still bothering me?"
He crosses his arms and takes on a posture that reminds me of a sulking teenager, and growls at me. That's the only answer I get.
I try a different question. I speak the words calmly, slowly, and clearly, enunciating each syllable as if speaking to someone who might not otherwise understand.
"What do you want?"
He shoots forward until he's inches away from my shield, about two feet from my face, looking up at me. He says, "I want through." He seems frustrated, and three times, he says, "I want to" but doesn't finish, like he's stuttering. Then, he says, in the same slow, clear manner as I used, but with a very determined tone of voice, "I am going to unravel you." I have the feeling that unravel isn't the word he wanted, but is the closest approximation he could think of. Somehow, though, I think of the crocheting I do, and imagine him looking for a string to pull. The thought makes me laugh.
He responds like I've slapped him in the face, jumping back and giving me an accusing glare. He yells at me to shut up, and kicks sand into the air, pushing it forward with energy. It flies over my shield and lands harmlessly around me. This makes me laugh harder, and he lets out a string of obscenities mingled with gibberish. I see him trying to draw energy from the sand, with less success than I have in pulling it from the sun. Unable to get a good grip on it, he pulls from the water instead. This causes a mist to rise up, and soon there are dark clouds in the air. It looks like there is going to be a storm. Oddly, above the clouds, I can still feel the presence of the sun. I keep hold of that energy.
From the clouds, a bolt of lightning streaks down and hits my shield. I can feel the energy from the bolt competing with the energy I've used to create the shield. I remain connected to the sun as an energy source, and fortify myself against the bolt. It feels like my shield is melted, but it remains in place rather than collapsing. I focus on holding it there. When the bolt is gone, he's looking to see if there's any change.
I've got an idea. I step toward him, and he steps back. I rush forward as if to hug him, slamming the front of my molten shield into him. He tries to turn away, but since he's still walking in the sand, he can't move as quickly as I can. I strike the side of his body, plastering him with the melted energy. An ungodly scream erupts from him as he wrenches himself away from me and throws himself into the water. Steam rises from his searing flesh as he tries to tear off the liquid heat that is stuck to him. He thrashes around among the waves, throwing bits and chunks of crystallized energy back onto the beach.
I watch the struggle, realizing that there's some kind of a reaction taking place. It's not just that the energy is hot; it's reactive in a way that is similar to a chemical reaction. It's bonding to him. He's having to tear off bits of flesh to get rid of it.
I pick up some of the crystals. They're translucent purple, like amethyst, but darker. There doesn't appear to be anything attached to them, so I keep them. I make a pocket in my armor, and put several of them in there. It feels like they might be useful later.
He slowly crawls out of the water, looking shocked and dismayed. His face and posture tell me that my response was totally unexpected, and that he's feeling his injury, which is pretty widespread. The burn is from head to toe, and all along it are spots where he's torn off bits of skin. There's a decent sized gash along his arm, where his claws dug in as he tried to scrape off the melted shield.
He's crawling toward me, and I suddenly realize that there's a hole where the shield impacted him. I back away, trying to close it. He reaches forward, then collapses on the beach, coughing. The first cough is just a cough, but with the next breath, he exhales more strongly, and once again a swarm of bugs exits from his mouth, and his body seems to follow, until there's nothing but the swarm. The bugs fly into the clouds, and a huge gust of wind kicks up. Sand and debris fly everywhere, and the clouds move rapidly away, further along the beach, and out over the water. I'm left floating over the beach, working on fixing the tear in my shield. Oddly, its hardened with strings of pulled shield sticking out of the hole, like bits of caramel that has been pulled apart, and I have to patch it from the inside.
It's very bright and sunny outside, with only a little breeze. I'm feeling really, really warm, even though my clothing is lightweight and loose. The heat soothes my sore shoulders and back, but it feels like my arms and legs are a little sunburned. I can see that my forearms are pink, but I also have a vague memory of being attacked by bugs, and I think they caused the redness.
I enjoy strolling along, absorbing the sunlight. I feel like I can use it to make my arms feel better. I give the idea a try, picturing the redness and irritation fading, the skin returning to normal. I open my eyes, and watch it happening just as I'd imagined.
There's no one else on the beach. I'm not even seeing any birds or bugs, and no fish in the water. It's just me here. I decide to take the opportunity to practice manipulating things.
I feel the energy around me, then draw on it to create a big splash in the water near me, sending a cascade of raining drops out onto the waves. I try shaping it, pushing the water out away from me to reveal more sand and shells, in an arc with about a 10 foot radius. I let the water fall back in, then pull it up into kind of a column shape, and let it fall again.
I try "splashing" the sand the way I did the water. It works. I'm also able to "dig" a hole, turning up a few larger shells, and some sticks. I shape the sand into a big block, then use my finger as a pointer, directing the energy around the sides to create bricks and turrets with windows. Then, I focus a strong wind on it, blowing it away a little at a time until it's just a dune.
I keep walking, getting closer to the shack on the sand. I feel like there's something important, but hard to get, waiting in there for me. It's slow going. The shack is farther away than I originally thought. I can see that I am getting closer. It's just not happening as quickly as I expected. Obviously, I need a faster means of transport than my feet.
I decide to go up a little. Rising off of the sand, I float about ten feet above the ground. I hover over the water for a moment, then shoot forward as fast as a bird, making a beeline toward that little building. It still takes a few minutes to close the distance. If I'd continued walking, getting there would have taken forever. When I do get there, I realize that the building is much bigger than I originally thought. It's not a little snack bar. It's the size of a house, or maybe a restaurant.
I think I'd better be ready before going in there. I stand still and focus on making armor and a shield. The armor looks like regular clothing, but I can feel that it's stronger than steel. Outside of that, I gather a sphere of protective energy, harden it so that it's solid, and build spikes on the outside. I add more energy to the shield, so that it crackles. Then, I make the whole thing invisible. I can feel it there, and I can see a faint outline, but it's now hidden from anyone else's eyes. Anyone or anything that tries to sneak up on me is going to get a nasty surprise.
I start looking for a way into the building. Facing the beach, there's a deck with tables and chairs, but I see no windows or doors in the adjoining walls. I walk around the side, counter-clockwise because I came from the direction that would be left of the building if facing it from the water. On the other side, there's still no door, but there's a narrow stone walkway leading toward what, by process of elimination, must be the front of the building.
There's no door here, either. There's a long, narrow porch, but no door.
Thinking that maybe I missed it, I circle back around to the side I first approached. It's just a solid wall. Close to the corner, set into the sand, is what looks like a utility meter that has been painted over. I look closely, but the paint is thick and solid. I wonder if the door is also painted over.
I start looking more closely. Examining every panel of wood, searching for a keyhole or a doorknob, maybe painted over, I very slowly move around the building again. There's absolutely nothing, not even a knot in the wood.
From behind me, I hear a familiar voice. "Frustrating, isn't it?"
Turning around, I see that he's gone back to looking mostly human. His eyes are still a sore looking mess, but aside from that, he could just be a scrawny little man with bad hair.
I ask why he's here, but all I get back from him is a quizzical stare. I forge on. "Well, you seemed to be unable to accomplish whatever it was you wanted before, and now you don't have any help. Why are you still bothering me?"
He crosses his arms and takes on a posture that reminds me of a sulking teenager, and growls at me. That's the only answer I get.
I try a different question. I speak the words calmly, slowly, and clearly, enunciating each syllable as if speaking to someone who might not otherwise understand.
"What do you want?"
He shoots forward until he's inches away from my shield, about two feet from my face, looking up at me. He says, "I want through." He seems frustrated, and three times, he says, "I want to" but doesn't finish, like he's stuttering. Then, he says, in the same slow, clear manner as I used, but with a very determined tone of voice, "I am going to unravel you." I have the feeling that unravel isn't the word he wanted, but is the closest approximation he could think of. Somehow, though, I think of the crocheting I do, and imagine him looking for a string to pull. The thought makes me laugh.
He responds like I've slapped him in the face, jumping back and giving me an accusing glare. He yells at me to shut up, and kicks sand into the air, pushing it forward with energy. It flies over my shield and lands harmlessly around me. This makes me laugh harder, and he lets out a string of obscenities mingled with gibberish. I see him trying to draw energy from the sand, with less success than I have in pulling it from the sun. Unable to get a good grip on it, he pulls from the water instead. This causes a mist to rise up, and soon there are dark clouds in the air. It looks like there is going to be a storm. Oddly, above the clouds, I can still feel the presence of the sun. I keep hold of that energy.
From the clouds, a bolt of lightning streaks down and hits my shield. I can feel the energy from the bolt competing with the energy I've used to create the shield. I remain connected to the sun as an energy source, and fortify myself against the bolt. It feels like my shield is melted, but it remains in place rather than collapsing. I focus on holding it there. When the bolt is gone, he's looking to see if there's any change.
I've got an idea. I step toward him, and he steps back. I rush forward as if to hug him, slamming the front of my molten shield into him. He tries to turn away, but since he's still walking in the sand, he can't move as quickly as I can. I strike the side of his body, plastering him with the melted energy. An ungodly scream erupts from him as he wrenches himself away from me and throws himself into the water. Steam rises from his searing flesh as he tries to tear off the liquid heat that is stuck to him. He thrashes around among the waves, throwing bits and chunks of crystallized energy back onto the beach.
I watch the struggle, realizing that there's some kind of a reaction taking place. It's not just that the energy is hot; it's reactive in a way that is similar to a chemical reaction. It's bonding to him. He's having to tear off bits of flesh to get rid of it.
I pick up some of the crystals. They're translucent purple, like amethyst, but darker. There doesn't appear to be anything attached to them, so I keep them. I make a pocket in my armor, and put several of them in there. It feels like they might be useful later.
He slowly crawls out of the water, looking shocked and dismayed. His face and posture tell me that my response was totally unexpected, and that he's feeling his injury, which is pretty widespread. The burn is from head to toe, and all along it are spots where he's torn off bits of skin. There's a decent sized gash along his arm, where his claws dug in as he tried to scrape off the melted shield.
He's crawling toward me, and I suddenly realize that there's a hole where the shield impacted him. I back away, trying to close it. He reaches forward, then collapses on the beach, coughing. The first cough is just a cough, but with the next breath, he exhales more strongly, and once again a swarm of bugs exits from his mouth, and his body seems to follow, until there's nothing but the swarm. The bugs fly into the clouds, and a huge gust of wind kicks up. Sand and debris fly everywhere, and the clouds move rapidly away, further along the beach, and out over the water. I'm left floating over the beach, working on fixing the tear in my shield. Oddly, its hardened with strings of pulled shield sticking out of the hole, like bits of caramel that has been pulled apart, and I have to patch it from the inside.
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