Chapter One - Haunting Slumber -

(First draft)

Chapter One

- Haunting Slumber -

 

            Vast rays of garnet light flared though the darkness like silence after a din. Brightness emerged from every forgotten nook, painting every feature in vivid detail, more brilliant that a sunrise. And yet through all she could see Mara saw nothing. Every intake of sight was forgotten in an instant, yet replaced with the same scene all too soon to withdraw leaving only an absent darkness, waiting solitary for the resurrection of the forgotten view.

            Brilliance it seemed was wasted on the poet and the dream world seemed to realise it for it left its light to fade, and once more darkness came. For a long while Mara waited in an empty space, nothing above or below, nothing even about her to focus on but a dreary blackness, a void that whispered nothing nor shared no gift of any sigh, sound or movement. Just black. Nothing else existent.

            Mara rattled her brain, hoping to jumpstart some sort of animation, some form of entertainment so that she might escape this weary dream, for she knew that was what it was and therefore she must hold some control over the happenings within. But nothing happened. For hours her thoughts races over different scenes but all where seen though a vial of darkness, neither near nor real, just a fragment of a thought placed in a frail hourglass surrounded by other such fragments of coal. Everything hinted deafness. 

            The void, soon however, felt that as time drifted on and the girl kept weeping in battle, her struggle to either grow accustom to the dullness and drab pain of this existence or to escape it for any other such torment or relief, that it should ease off the pain, revealing the same eager hope that Mara held in her walking world. Though Mara realised it vaguely, as the memory kept slipping away, this dream was in fact presenting to her the solution to a very complex problem; and had it not been for the newly arriving field of sight slowly rising towards her, Mara may have noticed this answer and awoke back into her normal dreaming, but it was not to be as she had realised something else first, the strange sweet song of a beautiful melody softly drifting on the air. And with this new queer sound Mara had come to her senses and regained a slight amount of control over her dreams and thus commanded a change of scenery.

            Dazed and barely noticing Mara mostly missed the sceptical of a deep sapphire bird, no bigger then her finger, flying freely before her in a haze of syrupy song. The dream world had relinquished its structure and lay in wait curiously to see what the girl would bring to their realm.

            Out of shadows came light, a vivid burst of ashy blue, drifting in elegant rays of sunlight, as though through the clouds or a canopy of oaks, lighting the path ahead. Stardust seemed to graze the air, flying freely in the clearing mists.

            Darkness died in the blink of an eye, leaving behind only shadows of its former being. The sunlight still rising illuminated the bold creases of rock that lay only a few meters ahead, the vast structure of a mountain’s bedrock. Every jagged shape flicked in a ghostly radiance from a newly materialized torch, it’s hells fire scratching tranquilly at the stone.

            Now for the first time since sleep had beckoned, Mara could see clearly and remember all that she saw. Darkness then light. She had forgotten all else that had happened, and realised now that she stood on the beginning of a dream, the very edge of it. As the girl, slightly shaken though unknowing as to why, took in her surroundings it accrued to her suddenly that the most queer thing lay embedded into the stone, something she could have sworn was not their before.

            Swaying slightly as she placed a hand to her temples, Mara once again relayed the scene before her, unsure as to what might be accruing. Has that door always been there? She thought. Surely it must have been, I just hadn’t notice it before. And though her reasoning was sound Mara still could not shake the confusion and strange unaccountable fright the door possessed her with. While comprehension never truly took hold, Mara knew deep down that there was something very unusual afoot. For what manner of door glowed golden light from its borders, it’s iron black designs softly growling welcome and foreboding? And what fashion of door should be made of yew timber pained bright claret, worked with iron, have no handle or pervert with which to open? And how on earth should such a medieval thing be cast onto the base of a mountain if not to hide some sort of tunnel? Questions such as these whispered distantly in Mara’s mind but of which she could find no answer. Who had put it there? Why was it there at all? What use was a hidden door of scarlet that did not open and lay over a mouth of rock? 

            Mara knew not nor care for how long she had been standing in the mysterious doors wake, only wanting the answers to the riddle, if in fact that was what it was, some clouded quiz not yet visible to her.

            And still somewhere off in the distance that strange melody. Sweetly sung in such a delicate handsome tone, its notes drifting more eloquently upon the air then a feather. Each note reminded Mara of crystal waters. Just when the setting sun hits, she thought, and the moon is starting to shine, those pinks and silvers in the mists of heavenly blue, more expressive and magical then an artist’s palette. Mara smiled sweetly at the though, her mind drifting with the music, unaware any longer of the harsh rock blazing in torchlight nor the eerie sights of the crimson entrance. Everything now lay in the music. Such a miraculous song. Eyes closing slightly at the beautiful tune, Mara let her soul surrender to the melody, soaring away like the dust in the light, readying to fly.

            So captivated was the girl that she failed to retain her hold over the dreamscape, allowing the dream realm to reclaim their given power.

            The music ceased.

            Coldness rushed though every nerve Mara possessed causing her to crumble to the floor, cradling herself with her arms, trying vainly to reclaim warmth.

            Mara dared not open her eyes, for she could sense that all the torches has gone out, and the darkness outside was sure to be even colder. But when the slight shadow of movement whisked past her sheltering frame Mara could not deter the urge.

            Raising her head whilst opening anxious eyes, Mara took in the darkness, trying to make sense of anything in the shadows. And still the whispers of movement, the air distilled, wavering in the gloom. Raising slowly the startled girl held out her arms, if there was anything in front of her at least she would be able to feel it rather then walk into it.

            Worriedly Mara took the first step.

            Nothing happened. Nothing touched. Nothing moved.

            This time with a little more courage, Mara took another step. 

            “You shouldn’t walk alone in the dark.” Echoed a voice from the darkness.

            Mara froze. Looking about her in desperation though knowing she could not see, Mara whipped her arms about her, hoping to feel the presence of the speaker. The endeavour having failed Mara attempted a question.

            “Wh…who said that? Wh…who’s th…there?”

            Movement on the left.

            Turning to face darkness, Mara waited impatiently for a reply.

            “One is foolish to walk alone at night.” Said the voice again, ignoring her question.

            Mara whirled around. Surely that voice had come from behind her. But it was so hard to tell, this echoing tone could be anywhere.

            Something touched her. Yelping with surprise Mara withdrew her hands and crossed the palms over her collarbones. Where was this person?

            “You are afraid.” Stated the masculine voice.

            Mara took a deep breath, sensing even more movement over her shoulder. And as it drew closer, she could feel the soft winds of warm breathing on her neck, pleasant after the winters of darkness.

            “You should never be afraid of the dark…” Whispered the voice in her ear. A strong hand reached for hers. Claiming it the voice spoke again, this time breathing seduction in it’s tone. “Yet you should always be weary of the things in the dark, for who knows what evils should wish to dance with pretty girls.”

            Mara was about to ask what he meant, when she felt herself being pulled around to face him in the gloom. Unseeing, Mara could feel a mans body towering over her, his arms moving to claim her in an embrace, his fingers tracing the curves of her wrists, gently positioning them. Still grasping her right hand in his, the darkness began to dance, moving her slowly about in the veils of baroness.

            “Who are you?” Asked the girls curiosity once more. And even without being able to see it the girl knew he smiled at her. And still withholding his secrets, he spoke to her once more.

            “Why do you always ask silly questions?” He said chiding her, as though a master to an ignorant child.

            Then Mara was alone in the night. He was gone but his words still lingered, faint at first but growing more brilliant. Winds howled, blowing fiercely about the startled poet in a screaming waltz, barely heard over the growing words of the darkness. Muted white streaks of light appeared in the whirls of wind about her, encaging her in darkness and illusion. The airstreams were strengthening, and the echoes of the voice were at their loudest, bellowing at her.

            And though it all Mara held herself still, gaze fixed at a single point in the darkness, where the voice had left her sight.

            From that point in the gloom, and without warning came a face, more beast then man but still a face. Grotesque and yet still slightly handsome. A hauntly face. Barely recognisable. It’s hallowing eyes faint in the distance blazing yellow in a white frame. This pale visage so far away, so horrific, so sorrowful.

            The winds roared with vengeance, whipping at her skin. Tears rolled down her cheek. Icy ripped at her flesh. The voice in the air shattering like murder. And then it was upon her. Face to face with this demon.

            She screamed.

 

***

 

            Mara woke with a start, shivering in the shreds of her own bitter sweat. Trembling all over she pulled the duvet up about her neck and around herself, still sitting erect and alert.

            After a few moments of looking about the room, Mara started to calm down. Everything was clear, the morning light was starting to break though the net curtains, casting a smoky glow over the wardrobe and travelling bags within. There was nothing and no one else there. It had just been a dream. All just a dream.

            Mara, now slightly more relaxed lent back onto her pillow and smoothed the covers about her. She was still uneasy but could not place it. What had I been dreaming about? she mused. I can barely remember…all I can think of is red wood…and…a ghostly…face. The thought of that face, still so clear despite everything else being forgotten, set more shivers though Mara then she had though countable.

            That face, she thought, it had looked so sad.

            After a few more minutes trying to recapture her dream, Mara threw off the bedcovers. It was useless. Better to get up now then to wallow. And with that Mara donned her dressing gown and pander slippers and went down stairs.

 

***

            Mara entered the kitchen, a vast spearing space, barely filled with cabinets and utensils. Its ruby walls booming out, garish and trespassing. Set in the middle of a chessboard floor was a solid oak table, and situated at one end, behind the masses of newspapers, coffee cups and half eaten bagels, lay a jolly figure drowned in pink. Mara breathed a silent sigh behind a shy smile as she saw the women before her.

Though the living at her sister’s house was comfortable, Mara still wished futilely that she was still at home. Home? Such a strange word, and with no real decisive meaning, the place you reside or where the heart is? In any case, Mara wished she were there now more then ever. But instead she was bunking it out with Wendy’s family.

            Mara loved her elder sister dearly, and her kin, but it was the constant niggling questions, suited to making her feel better yet failing completely. Such things like; ‘how are you poppet?’ Every five minutes. Or even worse, ‘Don’t worry, there are plenty of better bigger fish in the sea’. Thought it was all brought in a thoughtful manner Mara could barely stand it. She understood their concern and want for Mara to smile but the girl still felt that the wound was still to fresh and deep. But still, it was better then going back to live with her parent.

            “Morning!” Yawned Wendy upon seeing her sister in the doorway.

            “Morning.” Replied the girl, wishing slightly her sister was still in bed.

            “Coffee?” Asked Wendy, laughing at the disgusted look on her baby sister’s face. “Tea?”

            “Please.” Answered Mara, taking a seat at the table, and staring blankly at it.

            Wendy studied her sister’s vacant expression as she filled the kettle. Something was troubling her, this she knew, but what had rattled her sister so much in the course of the night. A text message? A phone call? Or was she just that distraught? Either way Wendy knew that something was amiss, but whether or not to question the girl was another matter. Fixing the tea Wendy decided not to grill Mara, it was better now to let her solve the problem in her own time.

            Having decided against one conversation, Wendy asked her sister if she had slept well.

            “I had strange dreams.” Was the reply.

            Wendy noted the confusion on her sister’s brow as she handed her a cup of sweet tea. “How so?”

            Mara though for a moment on whether it was wise to tell her sister, but determined it was safe. Wendy had never yet laughed at her when she was serious.

            After accounts of the night had been given Mara’s sister sat back with a grin. She was amused her sister hadn’t thought of it first.

            “What are you smirking at Wendy?” Asked Mara in dismay suddenly believing her trust in her sister was mislead.

            “Oh Titch! Don’t you see? This is the break you’ve been looking for.” Said the eldest. “This dream could be the workings of a great novel. You said yourself it shook you up, the face, the door, surly you can do something with it. It could make a marvellous horror. You could have the readers quaking in their boots.”

            Mara laid a hand on her sister’s wrist. “You’re as deluded as ever.” She said smiling as she rose from her seat to rinse out her teacup.

            Just then an abhorrent crash came from upstairs. Both women looked up at the ceiling. A thunderous stomping could be heard racing over the landing, charging down the stairs and just as the noise stopped a young lad of nine rushed into the kitchen chanting “Did I miss it? Did I miss it?” and slid over the titles and smacked into the breakfast table.

            Mara smiled at the ginger boy as his mother picked him up off the floor and seated him on her lap, only for him to repeat his question, though this time more quietly.

            “No you haven’t missed it.” Soothed Wendy, checking the child’s head for lumps. “It doesn’t start till ten. What was the crashing sound?”

            “I feel out of bed.” Moaned the boy, anxiously looking at the cloak. “What time’s it now?”

            “Not even eight!” Cried the mother with mock horror. “What are we all doing up so early on a Saturday?”

            “Cause the Football Mum!” Replied the boy, obviously.

            Mara chuckled at her nephews delight. He was a scrawny young lad, always energetic and full of questions, with an uncanny support for English Football. His father was a British ‘Squady’ or rather had been several years ago before retiring the army and moving to The Mile High State where he had settled with Wendy. Thus also bringing with him stories of English valour and sports, fencing fiends fighting daring duels, bandits rescuing fair maidens, knights taking mythical arms of aquatic origins; (and of course the riots of Liverpool supporters) and so capturing the amusement over the years of a very eager boy. Now sporting his Manchester United pyjamas, Hally was rummaging thought the cereal cupboard for the Lucky Charms.

            Mara having wiped the cup for over five minutes now placed it on the rack and went to leave the room.

            One thing at a time, she thought, depression sweeping in, getting dressed is still an achievement.

            “Mara!” Called Wendy, halting her sister before she could escape. “Do you have plans today?”

            This time Mara let the sigh escape her lips.

            “Not as such. I should really get on with some writing but…nothing comes…”

            “You ought to mind yourself!” Warned Wendy. “You’ll work yourself too hard! Maybe just take a day or two off, forget about things…”

            “Maybe…” Replied Mara, unsure of the idea. Wouldn’t it be easier to forget if she kept herself busy? “I haven’t been to The Tattered Cover recently…”

            Maybe it was time to venture out.

 

Reviews

[R J Askew]

I have not had time to read this yet, but I have glanced at the previous review and wld say do not be discouraged by the list of editing points. There is nothing there that can't be easily fixed and, as you say, tis a first draft, so all that matters at this point is the story. Will be back to have a look at that anon. R

[R J Askew]

There are some wonderful bits in the dream scape passage...

...a deep saphire bird, no bigger than her finger flying freely before her in a haze of syrupy song...
...the dream world had relinquished its structure and lay in wait curiously...
...yew timber painted bright claret, worked with iron...
...such a miraculous song...

Very poetic in description, with drama over the nature and intent of the incubus.

[Mysteral - Night Prowle..]

I found the story and style of writing very intriguing. The writing feels almost 19th century, so I was surprised that story seems to be set in the present. I guess this must be a first draft, as I see it needs careful editing. There are many instances where I feel you are using the wrong word, which makes the story difficult to understand. Here are just a few examples: The words I think you mean are in square brackets []

>Dazed and barely noticing Mara mostly [almost] missed the sceptical [spectacle] of a deep sapphire bird

>took in her surroundings it accrued [occurred] to her suddenly that the most queer thing

>And what fashion of door should be made of yew timber pained [painted] bright claret,

>"I feel [fell] out of bed." Moaned the boy, anxiously looking at the cloak [clock]

>Having decided against one conversation, Wendy asked her sister if she had slept well.
This sentence doesn't seem to fit with the rest. I feel it would be better as dialogue. "Did you sleep well?" Wendy asked her sister.

Through the section of dialogue between Wendy and Mara, you are switching POV (point of view) between the two characters. Although there is nothing wrong, it seems to be confusing. I think it would have more effect if you kept POV with Mara, letting the reader see everything through her eyes and thoughts. This, I feel would cause the reader to identify more with the protagonist, (Mara) rather than through a third person narrator.

Other than this, your writing tempts me into reading more, which should be your intention. I wish to know how the dream proceeds, and who the character she met is. Thanks for the opportunity to read and review your work.