2021-08-25 04:15
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<p> Each chapter is a different short story recounting a dream I've had. </p> <p> Expect logic to not be all there. </p> <p> The self contained stories will have wildly different genres and 'storylines' so if the first chapter isn't your cup of tea, try the latest or even a random chapter. </p> <p> Excerpt from latest chapter: </p> <p> </p> <p> I am still myself as before but with a lack of wings. Ahead of me stretches a corridor. To the left stands rows of lockers that seem to stretch infinitely into the distance and to my right is a wall made of glass panes that look out into a large rectangular courtyard surrounded on all sides by buildings. Sun shines down, basking everything in the soft orange and warmth of sunset. </p> <p> I walk forward at a sedate pace, taking everything in. The end of the corridor opens into a square room. The only things in this room is a long blackboard against the back wall and a teachers desk against that same wall to the left of it. Next to the desk stands a beautiful woman, with brown hair and eyes, who sports a warm friendly smile. I knew her to be incredibly nice. </p> <p> I step into the middle of the room and face the blackboard. On the blackboard is a treble clef and four horizontal lines. Notes appear on the board filling out the music sheet before it is all wiped away by an unseen hand in but a moment. </p> <p> After the first round of notes the teacher starts singing them carrying a sombre tone still with that warm smile, after the second I join in, after the third we start to harmonise, after the fourth she starts a dance, after the fifth I follow her lead closing my eyes and letting it all flow over me. The sixth never comes as the unheard music abruptly cuts out at the last note, I finish the last note nonetheless. </p> <p> I let my arms drop to my sides and relax. I slowly open my eyes and instead of the warm light, or a cozy atmosphere I am met with a cold, dark, long abandoned room. </p> <p> The end of the blackboard had broken off and fallen to the floor kicking up dust. To my right the windows shine with beams of moonlight, highlighting the dust and making it easier to see. I look to the left and in the place of the teacher stands a doll, drained of battery. Her joints rusted and unusable. </p> <p> 82 Unwritten dreams stockpiled. </p>
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