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Haunt Me To SleepHaunt Me to Sleep
The dream kept occurring, and it still does to this day.
I'm in a thick forest at night, when the fog is just starting to roll in from seemingly nowhere. There is no moon, and I can only see where I am going by starlight. I walk forward, past a tree with several missing or broken limbs, though a giant stump with a hole in it, then between two completely black snags to enter the shore of a lake. All is still and silent; even the lake does not move. Yet, something ever so small drops into the lake, and the sound of rippling water can be heard. Though the thin parts of the fog, I can see the rings expanding toward me. Yet, when the first ring touches the shore, the ripples disappear.
Then he appears.
I cannot see him, and I'm actually not sure that this figure is a man. I've never seen his face, and I don't think I ever will. His hair is a bright, soft golden color, while his eyes are deep, emotionless windows into his ancient soul. I think they may be blue. He's tall, t
I remember the days, when I was still just a child, when the "crazy" old man on the corner of Cherry and 1st street would suddenly stand and begin to talk to the wind. No one listened. The cars whizzing by had no time for his nonsense; neither did the equally busy pedestrians. Then, once he was done, he would sit on the corner and be still: trapped in his thoughts. Halloween night was a sad night for him. The teens would pester him, throw food at him, and taunt him into telling them that he wasn't the crazy old coot everyone made him out to be. On of those Halloween nights, I asked him to stay at my house. He looked up at me and my innocence, and smiled softly.
"No, my dear, but thank you kindly." I didn't understand why he wouldn't want to get away from those people who ridiculed him so. Again, he simply smiled at me. "One day they'll understand why I talk to the wind." I didn't understand. "One day. Until then, would you like to hear a story?" I stayed and listened to a t
The ToyThe Toy
It was a Christmas gift, or was a for a birthday? No one could remember. All they knew was that it was the favorite. It went everywhere with the child: to school, in the car, to church, even to bed. It was made of bits of patterned cloth and stuffing. The child treasured it like the child treasured nothing before. On adventures through the "jungle" and "the Sahara Desert", the toy would go with the child and would inevitably be the hero of this pretend journey. Soon, the cloth would be smeared with mud and dirt and take a bath in the sink. The child would carefully make sure that the toy did not drown and talked to it like the child's mother would while the child bathed. After the toy was dried, the child would then continue their excursions to the depths of the sea and into dark, mysterious caves.
Then, one day it came time again for the child's birthday, or was it Christmas? No matter. The child had opened a gift, seeing a new toy outfitted in soft, shiny, synthetic cloth wit
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More