Welcome to Valerian Night, where the story comes to you in snippets and snatches, snapshots and slivers of 300 words every week. Your input is valued and needed, for what you say may drive the story into a totally different direction. Follow the meandering coils of story that take Alyxa Fairchild onto a direct collision course with Nightmares, Dreams, Old Deities and New Heroes as her world collides with that of Réveille, the land of Waking Dreams and Dead Gods. Trail after Morpheus as he discovers the foibles and confusions of the human world and finds himself strangely enamoured thereof all the while trying to keep his Dreamer safe and ensure the continued peace of the Real World. Let the young Jazzy open your eyes and show you that the world you see is not necessarily the world you know...

Thursday, March 4, 2010

V: Orchestration

Morpheus found himself staring at a tall structure. He could only define it as a pillar of indecisive light. Réveille had nothing like this. To be sure, there were towers of light, but these lights turned on and off, winking in and out of their rectangular existence at the most sporadic moments. What madness had generated this?

There were humans everywhere; Some talked into shining boxes carried in their hands, some talked at thin air. They fascinated him in a way that no dreamer ever had. They waited at the edge of roads for lights to grant them permission, and then, like cattle unleashed from a coral after centuries of imprisonment, they flooded forwards in an unstoppable mass. The contraptions they used – ‘cars’ – were likewise beautifully coordinated. Like a river of polish, they would wait, and then move, orchestrated by some previously-agreed-upon plan.

“Yo, dude, nice coat.”

Morpheus glanced at the three young men who stood in a couple of feet away. He took a moment to analyze their words, decided they were attempting to be friendly and smiled at them.

“Thank you.”

Their eyes glazed at the sound of his voice. A minor irritation. He could hear their heartbeats, slow, tender. Fragile. It would be a shame to waste their forgetful state. Morpheus beckoned, and like all humans, they followed docilely.

The back of the strange structure leveled into a quiet, small street, and it was here that Morpheus let his nature take form and drank his fill, fangs licked clean after the deed. The following hours would eventually reveal the slightly disorientated boys to whatever authorities might exist to take such matters into hand. Morpheus moved on, there was far too much to see to linger over the comforts of those who existed to satiate him. Beauty everywhere.

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