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...

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

XXVII: Waiting

SHORT BREAD COOKIES


1 c. butter
1/2 c. brown sugar
2 c. flour
1/4 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. salt


Cream sugar and butter together. Mix dry ingredients together and add to butter-sugar mixture. Roll to 1/2 inch thickness. Cut with cookie cutter. Bake for 15 to 20 minutes at 350C°.

Alyxa read the instructions again. The words were not staying with her. Perhaps she should have stuck with the making of fetches as tonight’s entertainment. Sighing, she looked at Amy, sitting on the counter top. Three nights it had been now, the waiting, without a sign or a Dream.

“Maybe they’ll be home tonight,” the little girl said hopefully.

“In time for cookies?” Alyxa queried, the sardonic edge in her voice lost on the child.

She measured out the right amount of butter on the scale in front of her, placed it on a saucer and slipped it into the microwave.

“Can I push the buttons?” Amy asked.

“10 seconds.”

Dutifully, Amy pressed set the time and watched as the microwave blurred into brief action. Alyxa turned to the flour. The world seemed to blur for a moment. The bag tipped over, spilling brilliantly white.

“Alyxa?” Amy asked, pushing the stop button as the microwave beeped at them.

“It’s nothing. Can you get the sugar from the pa- ” she caught sight then, of Morpheus’ unmistakable shape kneeling in the garden.

She forgot all about the cookies and rushed out.

“Morpheus!”

His blue hair was struggling to fade into a more acceptable black, the emerald eyes burned. His skin, marble pale was now also cold. He blinked at her slowly, as though realizing where he was.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

He pushed her hair from her neck n answer, and she felt him break the skin. He drank.

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