A Dream of a Friend Long Gone

I dreamt the other night that I met Death. Not Death in his tall tale glory, cloaked in black and wielding a shining blade. Death incarnate. My friend John, who died two months ago in a fire.

 

The room where I sat was cold and dark. I felt if I spoke my voice would echo. The desolate blackness, like some ancient, frozen being, lost long ago in the void of time, held me in its form. I wore it on my sleeves, the blackness, the slime that trickled down my hands. But I was warm. At peace. Safe in the comfort of what I knew, what I hoped, was eternal.

 

Then came the light. A light not blinding, not so bright that I was forced to shield my eyes, but something translucent. A small door had opened, exposing a passageway to the place beyond. A figure passed through, leaving the doorway unguarded. As I watched the figure approach, I realized it was John.

 

He wore a white t-shirt and blue jeans, his hair tussled and outgrown. His face was solemn, unmoved. He did not glance upon me. He took a seat beside me without a sound. I watched him breathe slowly, calmly, his face unscathed, untouched from flames long dead. He joined his hands together. The skin of his hands was blackened and burnt, a sole trace of the inferno that took his life. He sighed. We sat shoulder to shoulder, side by side, surrounded by darkness. But what held me, the shadows on my skin, did not reach for John. The blackness surrendered in his wake, standing like cautious predators circling their prey but afraid to strike.

 

I spoke.

 

“What do we do when everything’s gone?”

 

John did not reply. A small smile crept across his face. He reached over and took my hands in his, holding them tight, and fire spread through me. A warmth, a blazing, wonderful life, flowed through my veins. A golden light emerged from John, lifting from his body, drawn from his chest. It grew in power, till I could see nothing but light. The shadows fled from my hands and into the corners of the room, huddled away from the shining glory.

 

Then John let go.

 

He stood before me and leaned in, touching my shoulder and patting it twice. Then he turned and made his way to the doorway.

 

The fire left and the darkness I wore crept back to me, latching to my form. The cloak I wore no longer felt safe, but smoldering, suffocating and cold, ice water against my skin. The warmth had vanished. John stood in the doorway, his body tense. He looked as though there was something he wanted to say, something to comfort the man he would leave alone in the silence, but he never had the chance. The door had already shut, cutting off the light from the world.

 

I called out for John, my friend long gone, but no one answered.

Reviews

[J.Black]

This was simply wonderful Carr! What a great read, I am so thrilled that you sent this to me. However I think you should fix the end of, "Then I woke up" to something like, "I then had awoken . . . " it keeps the thought still lingering on and I think it would flow better, but bloody hell, over all it was a really well written! Chills down my spine!

[pal]

Great story well structured. Not too long well expressed.
Pal

[Althea Tremaine]

One of the main reasons I loved this piece was because I also lost a friend when I was young. Just after I graduated from high school, one of my friends was killed in a motorcycle accident. I struggled dealing with his death for months, mainly because the last time I saw him, he had asked me to be his girlfriend and I rejected him. It was the last thing I ever said to him. I also wrote a piece for him (Shields of Black).

Anyway, I would also dream about him, and somehow, I feel that your dream is just part of the coping process, or perhaps that you've reached an inner peace in regards to a regret or bad experience you had with the person. I know I'm a little late on the review for the story, but I do hope it's gotten easier for you.

[Raef C. Boylan]

The tiniest, pickiest suggestions just for you, pal haha:
"I felt [that?] if I spoke my voice would echo."
"but smoldering, suffocating and cold[;] ice water against my skin."

The pace and tone are just right; sombre and drawn-out, as dreams of this nature often feel.
Some great descriptions,
e.g. your simile - "The blackness surrendered in his wake, standing like cautious predators circling their prey but afraid to strike."

Overall, a good write. Understated and captivating.

[Matthew V. H.]

Not one of your longer pieces but still just as good.

Your imagery was intense and your meaning was plain as day. The shadows and cold inky blackness that clung to you seemed to cry out of mourning.

This was touching as it was dark. Keep up the great work.

cole-

[Pj]

Incredible! The imagery was so amazing- dark and light all in one, as you engage within the story with that of the familiar.
Wonderful control on language and beautifully portrayed story!

Nice work

[.::Cup^E^Cake*RaWr!*::.]

Nive Job!! Kudos to you Mr. Carr!! :))

[Elana Juli Royson]

Interesting piece. It portrays the emotions of someone who has lost someone dear to them. Good write.

[closed acouttt]

i agree that was very good! =) vivid verbs kept me wanting to read more. ;)

[An owl on the moon]

Darkly moving, yet moving around us like a hope deferred... Brilliant to spark such a deep conversation about the temportal lives we cling to...

[Ladysue]

I found this gripping. It captivated me especially the middle and the end. It was chilling, biting and all around a very good story. Thanks for sharing.