Monday, 15 February 2010

Waking Nightmare

he night was getting late but still true sleep escaped her. Her body ached with fatigue, nestled in the hollow of the comforting bed, blankets warm and thick tucked 'neath her chin. The darkness swirled and eddied through thoughts barely formed, fading in and out in ghostly images. Fear crept through her bones, and not yet knowing the why, she curled tighter in a ball in the centre of the bed.

Clutching the arm of the stone cold statue, feet grasping purchase on the edge of the wide base, she scanned above the throngs milling about the square. Bleak eyes darted black glances her way, her foreignness palpable, her fear staunchly held in check behind a fierce countenance.

He was late... so very late... and it was so unlike him not to call if something had happened to cause a delay. She'd heard from him well over an hour ago, with words of reassurance that he was on his way to rescue her from mistaken routes.

Lost as she was in this chilled and misty city, ancient landmarks filtered in with new architecture, she'd not paid close attention to the names of the trains and had gotten hopelessly turned around. What area this was, she knew not, only that her presence was stirring the hordes of restless youth and vagabonds to circle round like wild dogs.

Some grinned wickedly at her, taunting with words not fully understood, darting in to touch and grasp. She pressed her back against the statue, his damp and unmoving form protecting the side she could not see and keeping safe the contents of her backpack. In the mist, the dampness soaked through her clothes and into her bones, deep into her bones, like claws gripping tight. Her jaw ached from clenching to prevent the clattering of teeth... to hide the chilled vulnerability as well as her terror. Each contact snagging at her clothing drew a hissing breath and she kicked aimlessly at those who ventured near.

Please... please!!! Where are you??? Please help me! Thoughts staggered through her mind as her eyes scoured the crowd, straining to catch a glimpse of his tall, formidable form but she saw nothing more than disinterested faces or prying eyes.

Several tattooed and pierced faces sprang into her field of vision, toying with her fears, prying at her grip on the arm of her stone cold benefactor. A muffled cry sprang from her as tears bounced down her cheeks to blend in with the rain-soaked cobblestones. She flailed and kicked, making contact and eliciting cries of anger and pain.

A silvery flash caught her peripheral vision but suddenly it clattered to the ground, its owner's hand crushed within the huge fisted grip at the end of a black sleeve.

Just as she whipped her head around to look, an arm slid around her waist, strong in its grip yet tender in its touch. She stiffened at first, then seeing his scarred and familiar face, she allowed herself to be drawn from the niche of the statue into the folds of his long black leather coat. He wrapped the warm leather around her body, holding her shivering form close while glaring balefully at the hooligans as they withdrew. His presence put an immediate stop to their cruel shenanigans and they scattered across the square, blending into oblivion.

His warm gnarled hands gently stroked her damp curls, brushing away the tears and pressing her face to his chest. "Ah hen, I am so sorry. Traffic snarled because of an accident and my mobile died. I couldnae reach you on yours..." He held her in a tight hug, willing away the fear and the tears and the chilled chattering of her teeth.

She drifted off to sleep, the ghost of those arms holding her into the depths of more pleasant dreams...


  1. Hmm, I wonder who the wearer of the black coat could have been. ;) You know that he'd never let a damsel down, be it in real life or a dream.

    My dream heroes are never people I actually know. Which might be a good thing, I suppose, but surely one's morals can slip at least a little bit in one's dreams! Pah, being good is so boring. :)

    By the way, if you ever want to moonlight as a romance writer, I think that you have the start of a great bodice ripper here! *fans face*

  2. Eleanor: 'Bodice ripper'! Never even thought of that. This was actually what happened to me last night... I almost never remember dreams but I wasn't truly asleep for this one. It was very disturbing actually.

    Will have to keep the romance novel thing in mind... A second career, perhaps?

    XL: He was in my dream last night!

  3. Hi Ponita,

    I got an email from you so I was compelled to visit my friend (North of the border). I'm so glad because I got the chance to read this vivid and descriptive story.

    Thanks for the Happy Valentine too, you always give me a thought to smile about.

    Much love my friend,


  4. U, thank you for stopping by! So nice when you visit. Hope all is well with you. Love to you as well. xoxoxo

  5. I'll be there for your first book signing. :)

    But seriously, I did get the disturbing aspect of this post and didn't mean to downplay it at all. At least you know, even on a subconscious level, that you have people you can rely on when you're in a tough spot. Being reminded of that is worth the pounding heart after a bad dream.

  6. Eleanor: I'll autograph a free copy for you! :-)

    I have absolutely no doubt in my mind that he would be there if he was truly needed.

    It's times like that, that I wish there was someone here with me, someone to roll up against and feel safe snuggled into when dreams like that happen. It's really no fun to be curled up in the middle of the big bed, alone and shivering, with dream addled fear running through your veins. No fun at all...

  7. At least Pony-doll had her 'hero' draped in subtle clothing, I cannae imagine what the view would have been like if it had been tight lycra trunks encasing his rather late loins.

    Most revealing... your superb ability to write, not the trunks.

    ....and I'm sure he would be there if truly needed.

  8. Did you not see the bald guy chasing the tattooed muggers down the lane? Must I always be 'Robin'? :¬)

    Nightmares can put the heart crossways on a person. I've had more than a few, and have woken and scared some of the family with my shouts on waking from them! Thankfully they are rare, as I hope your's are my lovely friend.

    Now, this writing lark, I think you may have a future here missus! :¬)


  9. Jimmy: Then perhaps it would have been a comedy and not a nightmare...

    I was kinda hoping chapter two would come to me in my sleep last night... but no such luck!

    Map: It's odd how I was aware I was dreaming, knew I wasn't really asleep and lay shivering in the bed. Or perhaps I dreamed all that too?

    Very rare... dreams of any kind that are remembered.

  10. It does not take a brain surgeon to realize exactly who it is that fills your heart (and your bed) with romantic (sensual) thoughts during the night missy. Y'all play with each other in your comment section a lot.

  11. I hate nightmares--even thrown myself out of bed a few times to get away from whatever.

    Yours, however, seems to have born some fruit. Your writing is excellent--much too good for a bodice ripper. But how about trying a short story?

  12. Cowboy Bob (whoever you are...): In case you've not noticed, I am but one of a flock of chickies flirting with the likes of Jimmy...

    Charlie: Perhaps I will try my hand at a short story. Must ponder an outline, characters and all that first... And thank you so much for your compliments! I've not done much writing of any kind other that what's on this blog...

    By the way... your wish has been granted. ;-)

  13. You've done an amazing job of describing such a vivid dream...definitely great written prose.

    Dreams are great. Sometimes, they help you solve problems you didn't even realize you had!

  14. That is a nice dream. And even better if it can be remembered the next morning! Smile.


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