-I DO NOT USUALLY HAVE DREAMS LIKE THIS! AND I WAS ON THE STOPPING IT SIDE TOO!
-also see how this is labeled as a NIGHTMARE.
Fate's Guiding Hands
A child left by all, alone under her care; the unbidden instrument of an imperial nation. His wheat hair the bread of all people; his skin all the corse sands from California to Yorktown; his blue eyes the unclouded plains; his laughter the chorus of countless migrating birds; his sweat, ever gleaming smile the jewel of the long strung pirate's heart; his name the essence of both freedom and injustice...
Yet the presiding mothering lion to this boistrust colony was long gone once more, out on the seas doing things none but she knew or understood. And to the child he was an empty void that left him to deal with his growing independent responsibilities. And the dangers there in... abandoned by all who sought to help him, save the seldom seen presence of herself; Ms. Faith.
Quite a few things had transpired while the true ruler of that far off island had been out gallivanting at her whim; a new cultic society had formed in the new world and its dark tendrils seeping into every crack had finally been found and viewed within Alfred's naïve bubbled image of the world. Many of his fellow young teens had taken to walking round wearing rectangular navy blue bands held by white twine and embroidered with a skinny bent cross and flanked by a line of dots, hashes, and much smaller crosses. He had hung around them, intrigued by the idea of joining this popular culture club, until he returned home one day covered in tears, crying about how he had discovered the two dots in center meant murder.
She had watched, though she did not comfort, but simply did her part to keep those few house servants they had from intruding on the young unroyal in this state. He cried for hours, appalled by what the others had gotten him into, and terrified of what he must do the following day when he would be taken into their dining hall.
Alfred walked through the streets with the other boys, his fear carefully hidden. There were hundreds waiting to enter, all ravenously hungry, pushing and shoving against one another in their attempts to get just that much closer to the coveted food. As he stood to the side with the other boys he noticed a woman in black escorting a group of eager ducklings into the tavern, yet something seemed odd in how the usher looked at the passing orphans. Without knowing why Alfred slipped in among them, his years flying off him with what little power he had inherited.
He and the children were brought inside, through the dining area to the tainted cheerful voices of the patrons, past the rooms for lodging and were diverted straight into a back room of the kitchens. It was all white tile with the only distinctions being the harsh artificial light swinging above and the strained channels cut into the floor below. The children began to get nervous, understanding the kind of room they were in, but all fears were silenced as their escort resprinkled them with dust; causing eyes to droop and arms to hang limply. The dream walking youngsters were lined up in a row facing forward at the stain marked intervals of the tub. Dimly he looked down at the dry cracking red that must once have seeped down from where he stood against the tub; behind him he could hear the metallic clicking as a knife was sharpened and saw out of the corner of his eye a figure approach the orphan at the end of the row, slipping a hand across their throat and with a slight push causing their body to flop over the basin. He felt no fear or dread, only a dull nothingness as he listened as the butcher made his way up the line. He felt a warm hand grip his chest while the other crept to his throat a cold metal instrument held in its other hand. Unable to react he felt the someone lean down and whisper in his ear.
"It is not your time to die."
A shiver ran over his body as the silver frost covered rod was traced over his throat, its chill powers awakening him from the spell. In a flash of understanding he remembered where he was, what he was doing, and what Ms. Faith must have done.
Faith had watched all this unfold from a distance, her eyes widened slightly as her carefully raised shepherd-wolf pup wandered inside with the pigs and lambs. She had followed, an unbidden shadow into the room where he was, all those she pasted becoming unnaturally still. Unable to react to her overwhelming presence.
Alfred looked up at her, shock and fear his only able emotions. She gave him a slight smile and escorted him out, the other awakened children scampering past the unresponsive guards. The shade lead him into the tavern, his vale disparating as reality finally hit him. He sat down at a table, hands tangled up in his short hair and eyes a flash flood of tears. Faith watched him, unmoving as he remained in the den of all demons. Around them the patrons were getting restless, complaining of their hunger and the lack of food. Alfred was to deep in his misery to react and Faith stood by him, unyielding as more of the ribbon bearers gathered round. Three were the same boys that had brought him into this place of hell, now returned with creates of treasures taken from the larger game they had procured for the feast. They soon spotted Alfred and tried to make their way towards him to share in the fun, only to be stopped by the unseen force behind Faith's raised hand.
"From the Goodwell house." she said in her silken voice eyes a flickering aqua glass. All stared as her hand dipped into the box of beads and gems to pull out a pocket watch with five entwined jays cut in the face, opening it to reveal that no clock rested inside; the time having vanished into a gap of dark eternity. The tavern had quieted as all became aware of her being, the only sounds that made by her hand roving the clicking valuables and Alfred's silent tears. For only his eyes had not risen to meet her's, as all others now gazed at the dark dressed woman with apprehension and fear.
"This was Iris Helena's," Faith lifted up another tome from the create, this time a green bracelet; "it's fake." She said, her voice becoming steely as he turmed her head to glare at the head of this establishment. He hardly reacted, simply hardening his expression as she continued to show off the contents of the create, giving full detail of who had owned each, how it had come to be, and its true value; the crowd feeling growing shiver as she went on, giving information none could have known.
"Enough," the man said finally, "we don't need to hear your guesses about whether they are real or not. Just order something or be on your way." She looked at him with a slight smile, flickering eyes shifting red as they beheld a fist sized false ruby. A small chuckle escaped her and all tensed back, even the man.
"Very well then, I guess I'll just take everything."
Alfred didn't move at all during this, eyes still buried in his hands, until he felt something hit the table before him. He looked up and saw Faith looking down at him, the rest of the tavern having grown dark as all stood frozen in place.
"You should eat something." she said, and gestured towards what she had placed on the table. He picked each item up and examined it. In his left hand he held a piece of what looked like clear wax; in his right a cord sized glass vial of hazed liquid with a tiny black skull printed on the surface. He looked at Faith, slightly unnerved, and began to nibble at the gelatin, the vial shattering over it in his hand. He stopped suddenly, head spinning, before raising to his feet. He stretched and looked around, not taking in the terrified faces of everyone before walking on his own out the door, completely unaware of what had transpired.
All eyes turned back to Faith, who remained still and unearthly in the near pitch black room; a dark tainted ethereal beauty. The fear they felt could be tasted in the air, and she relished the sweet tang. Eyes shifting to amber Fate waved a hand and they fell, every soul alive at Roanoke falling still and breathing no more.
Analysis:
-In my defense I did watch the newest film theory about what they were really eating in WALL-E and I was hungry when I dreamt this, having to get up at eleven for a snack that did not comprise any meat.
- I was protecting Alfred F. Jones in the dream, so I was saving America from being eaten by his own people. To bad the guy in the back didn't look like Trump or else I may have been seeing the future.