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Yeah, the papaya thing was amazing.
uggh, some of the worst dreams are when you dreamt you did your school work, to the point you solve math problems in your sleep, only to wake up and realize that noooo there’s a whole day of school ahead. It’s a miserable revelation.
I have lucid dreamed… like a few years ago. When I have dreams like that and I try to change them it usually malfunctions and the dream starts spiraling out of control. It leaves my brain and the entire dream very disoriented. I go through these phases every like 1-2 months where I have about a week of extremely vivid or extremely insane dreams. Last time that happened I dreamt that my friend was driving a skid loader full of papayas. It was really weird.
@whalekeeper my siblings and I used to call them rolly-pollies too! They’re like… armadillo bugs kinda. XD
So, I don’t have dreams with my characters in them a lot, but if I’m awake at some odd hour of the night it’s highly likely one of them will be up to some kind of mischief. What happened the other day was that my sister woke me up at like 2 and I couldn’t go back so sleep and then my characters hijacked my brain. I probably wouldn’t have been able to stop them even if I tried…. it’s like when you’re partially asleep and partially awake and you don’t have much control over where your brain is going. XD
I did dream once, a long time ago, that my character Robby was flying an A/F 16 and the engine started malfunctioning. I about had a heart attack from that one. XD He isn’t even a pilot.
*very random little KP ghost kid that saw poetry so showed up*
ooooohhh….. I really like your first poem, and I can really relate to parts of it, especially hide and go seek in church basements. And pill bugs… those little things are so adorable…
Oh my word wat? You wrote a poem in your sleep??! But then again maybe that’s not so crazy. I once solved a plot hole in my sleep and actually remembered it in the morning, and a few nights ago my character made a very convincing speech against human trafficking somewhere around 3 in the morning. *applauds him even though I regretted the wasted sleep later*
Hey guys…. the random ghost kid that never really does anything here… *fp* My existence here is very small, but I’m a former Ydubber, and I can honestly say 100% that joining Ydubs for 6 months was one of the best things that has ever happened to me. I grew tremendously, and I found a lot of support. I plan on getting back there someday, like, seriously. That place is crazy amazing.
@karissa-chmil can attest to this as well. She was my Accountability Group leader. <3 It’s so good to see you, Kris!! I was on your gecko team, and I don’t know how much you’d remember me, but I’m that MK from Southern Africa.Unfortunately, there’s a lot of sadness in this story… *sniffles*
Thanks so much!
Thank you! Yeah, I need to go back somewhere and add in her age… XD Marie is 13 years old, and William is 10.
Sorry for not posting anything.. life has been crazy, especially this past week. I haven’t been able to finish the Inktober prompt list yet, but I’m getting there. I just added 3 more snippets for you guys.
Prompt 11: Wander
It wasn’t until he woke that William realized he was screaming. He sat up straight and convulsed with wracking sobs, his hands clenched against his face. A shadowed form darted into his room and he doubled over with a shriek.
“Will! William!” Marie leapt onto the edge of his bed and pried away his shaking fingers. “Look at me!” William tried to shove her away, his eyes wild. He gasped out a sob as she firmly held his hands. “Look, it’s me. I’m Marie.” She pushed back a lock of his soaked hair. She whispered, “William, can you feel me? Can you see me? I’m not hurting you. You’re safe.”
The glow of a candle entered the room and Irene set down her candlestick on a nearby table. William gasped with wild sobs, but his wide eyes focused. Marie pulled him into her arms and he melted into her embrace. She held him until he calmed down and his breathing became level again. Marie leaned against the headboard and he rested his head against her shoulder, their fingers laced together.
Irene’s soft voice rose from the nearby darkness. “Come downstairs.” She nodded for Marie to follow. She wrapped William’s blanket around him and quickly retrieved one of her own across the hall. Marie kept her hand on her brother’s shoulder and guided him down the dark staircase. He shook beneath the touch of her fingers.
Irene pushed open the door of the kitchen and skillfully set about to produce better lighting. After reviving the coals she motioned for the children to cluster before its growing flame. William stared at the flames and silent tears fell down his cheeks. His eyes wandered deep into the writhing flames until Marie pulled him back. He reoriented himself and gratefully accepted a mug of steaming hot cocoa. The spicey aroma of cinnamon wafted up from the steam and he watched the dark grains swirl in patterns.
At last, Irene settled herself down in a chair and tucked her shawl closer around her to resist the autumn chill. She blew gently on her steaming mug, her bright eyes watchful. “Are you alright, William?”
He hesitated, then gave a slight nod. “Better- I- I didn’t mean to- wake anyone- I didn’t know-”
“Shh,” Irene hushed him with a smile. “No one means to have a nightmare, child. Do you want to talk about it?”
Bowing his head he muttered, “Not yet.” and took a long draught of his hot cocoa. Flames danced in reflections across his eyes and he cupped the steaming mug between his fingers. Sipping it more slowly, his gaze followed the room and fell on the various items hanging from the ceiling and beams. Dried strings of braided onions hung in the far corner and dried spices adorned a shelf.
He emptied his mug and stared at the whirling grains. His ears were filled with the sound of popping embers and the pull of the fire drew him into memory. Curling deeper into the folds of his blanket, he began with a whisper.
“It felt so real.” His eyes became haunted and his nails dug into the cup. Sucking in a breath and choking it out, he added, “It was about my brother- Andre. He- he died- and I saw it.” Tears spilled down his cheeks as Irene murmured beneath her breath.
“And how many brothers did you have?”
“Three, and two sisters.” A smile flickered across his face before sinking back into his cheeks. “There were six of us- Nicolai, Arthur, Andre, Elaine, Alice- and then me. I shared a room with Andre. He was my best friend.”
William stopped for a long moment, and Marie feared he wouldn’t continue. Afterwards, she wished he hadn’t.
“The- commander-” William choked, emotion swelling inside him. “He and his men attacked my village by nightfall. They murdered Papa- outside of our home- and set our house on fire. Andre dragged me out, and we escaped into the woods- we found Arthur and Nicolai, but by the time we realized who else was missing, it was too late.” Burying his face he whispered, “The men were poised at each door to kill anyone else who escaped.”
“No.” Marie pounded her fist. “Papa wouldn’t do that!”
Drawing his arms around him, William rocked in the blankets. “Your father is another man when he is called to war. They all are. I saw men turn savage on women and children.” Struggling to get the words out, he curled his fists together. “After we surrendered, they took the surviving men and older boys into the woods-”
“Will, stop!”
Burning with anger he spat. “They murdered them instead of showing mercy. Britain’s honored, glorified commanders are murderers!”
“William, stop!” Marie pleaded, tears filling her eyes. His green eyes smoldered and she drew back. After a moment his anger dissipated, and he slumped from the spent energy.
“I’m sorry…” He drew himself back into his shell, his fire and life gone. Irene left her mug and sat down between the two children. She wrapped each in an arm and drew them to her bosom. She stroked Marie’s hair as she cried into her shoulder.
“William is a broken boy,” she murmured, “and he needs to process hard things. He lost his family and he’s wandering in a new world. He’s been placed into a different family, and it’s alright if he doesn’t know what to do. We all learn. Can you forgive him, and find the patience and love to help him? Yes, his words were harsh, and we both dearly love your papa, but some of what he says is true.”
Marie nodded and sniffled, then she nodded more vigorously and stood. She circled Irene and settled down to where William lay, broken and quiet. She laid her hand gently on his shoulder and squeezed. “I love you William, and I forgive you.” She leaned her head on his shaking shoulder and hugged him. “We can share each other’s hurts. You don’t have to face this alone.”
She tucked one of his curls away and as their tears fell, held him close. She could feel his heartbeat, and it pulsed brokenness and fear. So she reached her fingers out, clasped his hand, and squeezed back friendship and love.
Prompt 10: Fortune
Fear crawled in the pit of William’s stomach as he replayed last night’s celebration. Marie promised to talk, but with each hour that ticked by his trepidation grew greater. At last a knock echoed from his door and he opened it. Marie hushed him and motioned for William to follow her. She took him down a corridor he didn’t recognize and slipped a key from her skirt’s pocket. The door swung wide with a click and she closed it behind them.
William roamed the room and coughed as a layer of dust was kicked up into his nostrils. All the furniture in the dim place was covered in dusty white sheets. The imagery reminded him of his older brother’s late night ghost stories and he shuddered. “Where are we?” His voice echoed off the high ceiling and he stared up at a veiled chandelier. He concluded that the spacious room was not intended for everyday use.
“In a guestroom. Papa won’t hear us here.” Marie pulled back a white sheet that lay draped over a couch and motioned for him to sit. He preferred to stand and pace around the room.
William turned to face Marie, his body rigid. “Why am I here?” He demanded, his tone sharper than he had intended. “From the looks of last night, it seems he doesn’t want me as desperately as he claims.”
“Oh, he wants you desperately, William, but for the wrong reasons.”
“Why?”
“Look,” Marie steepled her fingers and narrowed her eyes. “My father is a single man. Mama died, and he is left with only one child. He doesn’t want a female heir.” She paused and stood for a long moment and stared into a dusty mirror. “I cannot carry on my family name, and Papa is getting older now. It wouldn’t be a simple thing for him to remarry and hope for the best. He has no male heir to take on his load and his fortune. You are young enough to train, and he sees you as the solution to his problems.”
William opened his mouth to protest, but her words sunk in and he snapped his mouth shut.
“I was an easy target, wasn’t I?” He whispered as the shock numbed him. Marie placed a hand on his shoulder and drew him into a hug. He stood limply in her arms and when she let go, he sank to the floor. Trembling, he held his face in his hands and cursed himself for so easily giving in. “I never should have come- I never-” He choked, “I’m so sorry- Marie-”
“Shh,” She knelt beside him and drew him close. “It isn’t your fault, William. My father did this, and you- you didn’t know better. We will be fine. This shouldn’t stand between us.” Blinking away tears, she added, “Besides, I always wanted a little brother.”
Drawing his knees in and bowing his head, William pressed his face against his knees. The stuffy air around him threatened to suffocate him as he choked down the truth. He was lost in the heart of the British Empire and dwelling underneath the very roof of his enemy. William was trapped.
Prompt 9: Bounce
William fidgeted lightly in his chair as his eyes wandered through the room full of men. A party had been thrown in honor of Britain’s swift victory over Nelindar, and many of the officers praised the commander for his crucial role in leading his men.
Boisterous laughter bounced off the walls and William squirmed as the commander’s voice rang in their midst. Soon a dozen eyes were fixed on him and he smiled hesitantly at the men’s nods of approval. They were talking about him.
A red-haired soldier sauntered by and ruffled William’s neatly combed hair. “How goes it, laddie, eh? Caught any more toads today, did ya?” William squeaked and his panicked eyes met Marie’s.
“No Sir,” Marie took control of the conversation. “In fact, we have been preoccupying ourselves with the great subjects and arts, and William here has a fine taste in music.”
The man muttered underneath his breath and moved on. William gave Marie a grateful smile that was short-lived. The commander clapped his hands on William’s shoulders and proclaimed, “Hey, lads, how about some grub?”
The men roared in approval and the scraping of chairs echoed across the ceiling. William clenched his fists together and bit his lip. Marie squeezed his clammy hand gently and didn’t recoil at the sweat on his palm. Her fingers were warm and smooth and her reassuring smile loosened the knot in his stomach. William gave her a hesitant, weary smile as the festivities began.
The food was served in several courses and whenever William was convinced it was over, yet another platter arrived. He mimicked Marie as she ate and thus avoided many mistakes as he couldn’t remember which article of silverware was proper to use. He watched the several toasts to Britain’s victory and kept his face impassive. Their victory was paid for by the death of his brothers.
The men called for the commander to retell his story on finding William. So he stood and raised his goblet to the chandeliers and narrated his tale. Alarm flooded William’s chest and he tried hard to correct the words he heard. After a moment he realized it was true, and a heavy stone dropped inside him.
The commander’s story was laced with self-glory and honor. His facts were twisted to portray Britain’s men as the heroes. He skipped over the slaughtering genocide and gloried on his men’s superior fighting. The crowd cheered wildly and he ended his tale with the woe he experienced on finding William, helpless and parentless. The commander spoke in a low, emotional tone of finding William’s mother dead, as she had been caught in the crossfire.
This was William’s greatest offense and he leapt up to deny it, but Marie grabbed his arm and yanked him down. She hissed in his ear and her fingers dug into his arm. “William, don’t you dare! You’ll cause a scene!” Her tone softened, “No one would believe you anyway. Papa has the whole nation swooning over his military’s victories. Hush, we can talk later.”
Wrath burned inside William but he eased himself down and smiled innocently at the looks cast their way. Marie held his arm fast, but her grip loosened and was painless. Ever so slightly he nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat. The party rolled into the hours of the night and they watched together. William’s heart clenched as his mind was filled with dread.
I’m a bit late to the party, but my great-grandpa would drop food and supplies to troops from airplanes in WW2. He just turned 100 years old this year and he’s still going strong. (:
Yep… it wasn’t the only time we found ‘once-alive-things’ in his pockets. XD Thank goodness he doesn’t do such things anymore. We’re more likely to find nails, screws, or rocks in his pockets now.
