He heard the whispering wind, and below he listened to the footsteps in the wet gravel.
There was nothing left to hear, and silence was killing this boy.
The knot of dread pulled tighter in his stomach, as each step took a little longer to form.
He missed the sound of crowing, of chirping, of rustling.
But those memories were buried beneath the surface of reality.
The hours passed and whispers turned roars.
Unsettling roars that would never leave him, for it was his only company, apart from misery.
Memories bubbled to the surface of his mind,
Back to his last conversation. Not with himself, which was all he had for last few days.
Or was it months?
Or was it hours?
The last survivor had roared in his ear the words of comfort,
“My lovely child, our minds all sleep till our love’s kiss awakens us. You sick fuck.”
And yet they all slept.
All around his mind,
The lives of those he knew continued to sleep.
Minutes passed (or was it hours?), and the roar turned to song.
The boy lifted his head away from the gravel below,
For in the field in front he saw another singing alone. Or was it to him? Was it him?
“Hey coward, why are you crying?” said the singer.
I am not a coward thought the boy as he stopped in his tracks, cowering slightly. He recognised this figure.
The singer had been sitting in a field. His rhythmic hands moved away from his chest and towards to the bodies of a man and a woman who slept next to him.
“Crying coward, don’t be afraid, I know that you and I can be friends even though you don’t deserve sympathies.”
The boy’s body tensed, how perceptive this stranger is, he thought.
“I know you’re a terrible person, but shall we be friends anyway?” The singer’s body swayed with the roar of the wind, reminding the boy of ocean waves. His eyes stayed fixed on the boy, as he leant over and kissed the bodies of the man and woman. “Everyone sleeps these last few nights, and yet you’re still awake. Do you think it’s odd, or common sense that no one included you in the apocalypse that swept them by?”
The man and woman spasm.
Have they awakened to this reality from this singer’s kiss, the boy wondered. Chills were caught in his throat; “Well I’m just a boy, easily forgotten by accident.”
The singer’s eyes gleaned “But you haven’t been a boy for a while now, how long have you been wandering alone? Abandoned by horrible people with intuitive skills?”
“Twenty days?” No, the boy thought.
“It’s been twenty years,” hummed the familiar stranger.
The singer raised himself from the ground, and as he did, the lifeless sleepers rose, twitching as they followed his hand, “wasted so much time and yet you have gotten nowhere, old friend.”
“Why waste MY time on this sick fuck,” The awakened woman rasped.
“He’s endearing in a pathetic way, I want to keep him” the sleepy man said.
The boy felt emotions long buried to the company before him, for the first time in years (or was it days?) the two sleeping bodies that littered the landscape had finally woken and spoken in his reality, and yet something was not right.
The singer walked towards the boy, and his arms flowed behind him seemingly dragging the man and woman with unseen strings “Old friend ignore these two; let us find new friends that can also see your flaws.”
“You can’t ignore us if we never thought about you” said the woman. The singer’s lips murmured.
He raised his arms and the man and woman walked towards the boy, their movement littered with twitches and jerks.
“I thought about you.” The man said as the singer’s lips murmured, “I thought that you do have a heart, it’s rotten, but it’s a heart.”
The boy wanted to flee, to retreat away from this reality, and yet he finally had friends. They did call him a friend, so it must be true, he thought trying to rationalise.
“How did you awaken? By love’s true kiss?”
The woman tilted her head back, her mouth opened, and she huffed a laugh, the singer’s head tilted too. “You don’t know what love is.”
“Is that why everyone still sleeps?”
The man shuddered, “You’ll never awaken the others with love, if you can’t show it to yourself.” his eyes widened for a second before narrowing “Though aren’t you the one who sleeps? When will you awaken yourself?”
The singer closed his eyes also, “Old friend, if you’re the only one who isn’t lying on the ground asleep, maybe you’re dreaming an illusion.”
“Is that my fault?” asked the boy.
“Yes, because you suck.” said the woman.
“No.” said the man.
The singer shook and nodded, as the man and woman twitched and swayed with both movements.
“Shall we find more people to awaken? Ones who will also hate you?”
“Do you want to stay with new friends who hate you, old friend? Would you rather be alone?”
“Or do you want to stop hating yourself, and move on alone but with love?”
The boy looked into the distance; the fields were filled with sleeping beauties, each hiding love and acceptance from him, “Can I stay with you a little longer?”
“He has learnt nothing” She sneered.
“Maybe one day,” the singer said, wrapping his unseen strings around the new but familiar company, and the four walked further down the gravel road into the darking night.
1 Comment | In: Dreams | tags: boy, dream, fields, hate, kiss, love, man, singer, sleeping, woman. | #
