Another prompt, another round of great stories to choose from. Check the stories out below and vote for your favorite!
297 words by Bill Engelson, (@billmelaterplea)
The Dream Maker
It was clear to me after giving it little thought, for overthinking any matter under consideration can be debilitating, that we all have dreams. Every human being on the globe has a dream. Some dreams are massive. This big…can you see me stretch my arms wide to indicate how big? Perhaps not, but I am doing just that. Just squeeze your eyes tight, like you might if you are suffering a buttock cramp, and imagine it.
That would be one of my dreams…to be able to translate my words immediately into images that you could see. I have such brilliant dreams, ideas, thoughts…all deserving of visualization.
Though I am impressed by myself and shine the light of obviousness on my immaculate presence frequently, not everything is about me.
For most of you, dreams mostly come true in private. We do not see them. These billions of little dreams, flashes of hope and aspiration, flicker like a billion bare bulbs trembling in a torrential storm.
I honor them their force and their frailty.
On the world stage of dreaming, Corporations have glorious dreams of conquest. World Leaders have grand policy dreams, seeking ways to change how the world is.
In the sports universe, we see dreams flourish and dreams shatter every day. As I write this, a young Greek tennis player has just spoken of his dreams as a child to play in the French Open.
We glory in the dreams of others. A warm pool of pleasure embraces us.
Their dreams become ours.
They fuel us.
We seek the same.
We need the same.
We are shallow spirits without our dreams, big, small, we thrive on that thread of hope that comes to us as we snooze, as we then awake.
You can thank me for that.
298 words by David A Ludwig (@DavidALudwig)
The space between worlds wasn’t as scary this time. Jinx felt like she was floating, freed of the burden of the powers she had never wanted. Looking up, she found herself in the soft arms of bunny cadet Oaklie Anne.
Oaklie kissed the top of her head.
“You’re going home.”
The girl twisted in the talking bunny’s embrace.
The stern voice of Vedania the cupid sounded at Jinx’s shoulder.
“She tried to keep her powers. She’ll need to be hospitalized for a while. After that, I don’t know.”
“But she loves you!” Oaklie added. “I think it’ll work out.”
“Then…” Jinx lowered her gaze.
“Your father will take care of you.”
Bluebelle, the druidess, appeared before Jinx with a familiar dark-haired man.
“Daddy!” Jinx flew into her father’s arms. “Where have you been?”
Her father hugged Jinx tightly.
“Hi, honey! Let’s just say I’m glad you made a friend who could talk to cats.”
Jinx raised an eyebrow. Her father smiled awkwardly.
“After a year as your cat, I’m ready to be your dad again.”
“Did… Momma know?”
He coughed, “We… don’t have to talk about that.”
“Malain is resting under medical observation.” The placid pronouncement announced the arrival of Emathyst Flower and her partner, Brewer.
Jinx had been afraid of the executioners when they first met. Now, surrounded by the strange friends she had made on her adventure the girl couldn’t imagine life without them.
“How can we just go back to our world after everything that’s happened?” Jinx looked between her father and her friends.
Emathyst knelt to hug Jinx tenderly.
“Our worlds are born from all the little dreams of yours. In time, that is what all this will feel like.”
“I’ll never forget you!”
“Nor we you.”
279 words by Stacy Overby (@dontpanic2011)
The Rite of Little Dreams
The old woman beckoned to the young man waiting on the edge of the firelight. “Come, it is time for your small sleep before the Long Dark Night.”
He crept forward, still uncertain of this woman in rags with wild, white hair. She gestured to a sleeping mat on the cave floor near the fire. With a breath, he sat down and accepted the cup of dark liquid she handed him.
“This will aid you in dreaming the Little Dreams. It is the same as what you will have during the Long Dark Night.”
The young man swallowed it in three gulps. The liquid felt thick. A bitter aftertaste lingered in his mouth. Then he laid down, waiting for what would happen next. Meanwhile, the old woman moved around the cave, marking the walls as the fire crackled. She chuckled—a soft, raspy sound—at one such mark and turned back to the young man.
“They’ll keep you safe in the Little Dreams. And guide you. Some.”
Her voice grew distorted, each word getting drawn out further and further. As she spoke the last word, his surroundings dimmed. He felt himself floating away as panic gripped his heart, squeezing it until he thought he would die a pathetic and helpless death lying on the floor of the cave. He wanted to scream, to fight the pull of the Dream World, to go back to being a child among his people. But the cup’s contents would not release their grip. Words would not come.
A final silent plea to the gods that he wake again when his duty was over washed through his mind before the Dream World consumed him.