Random Scene Writing: Always the same…

The air smelled of sulfur, the icy road before me doing nothing to quell my curiosity as velvet colored smoke lifted in the air just beyond my reach. A soft coo of a Nightingale lifted in the wind around me and almost gave me pause.

A warning? A welcome? Just simply a murmur from the small creature…

The wind picked up as the moon stole the audience of the night, it’s iridescent glow giving life to shadows that neither held true form nor remained still for too long. My eyes wondered along their motion, my own dark twin walking close and shivering alongside me.

There had to be a reason for the demented dreams of late that stole my rest and yet thrilled the proposition of possibilities that took more definitive form with each night that passed fulfilled. It was always the same story, the same theme and the same dark figure that I knew was full of danger and yet endless freedom dangled at the edge of my reality as I lay asleep in my bed each night.

What seemed to always change was the setting. At times I was thrown in a frenzy trying to juggle the various effects of the dream that were tossed my way and in that activity I lost my ability to recognize that reality had run from the scene and I was left once again with velvet colored smoke and the soft sounds of midnight life.

He brushed my shoulder as he passed, his steps so very hurried and try as I may, I could move only as someone of languid intent might, my voice finding no depth as a frustrated sigh swept away in the swirling ether just beyond my lips.

A dark suit coat hung over his black slacks, his hair the color of night and his built and demeanor labeling him as important. He noticed me not, or if he did, I was left unaware of it. I tried to reach out toward him, but he was a noticeable distance ahead and the space around me didn’t allow for conscious movement at all.

Frustrated and rather confused I willed my legs to move faster and yet the consorted effort awarded me simply with refusal. He stopped just before reaching a small wooden bridge that spanned the length of the rushing water below and turned to look at me, no… through me.

Sadness filled the confines of my chest as the emotion etched upon his handsome features spoke of loss and despair. He pressed two finger to his lips, kissed them and threw the affection into the night sky as if hoping that someone might catch it and cherish it again. Was that someone me?

I closed my eyes only for a moment, the rushing of a million wings delivered fear to my system and small bumps of chill covered my exposed arms and legs, the man long gone without a trace as I managed to regain sight, my knees giving out before me as I crumbled into the waiting snow.

It was always the same story, the same theme, but tonight, it was a different character. Or was it? I’d never before seen his face and perhaps never would again.

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