A melody, a hymn, a carol, a tune twisting and dancing through the world. Flowing from one note to another. Floating along with the wind, through the canopies of trees hidden in the rustling of leaves. Drifting through the Arctic tundra humming along with whistling winds hidden beneath the mists. Sitting well within the subconscious of the world a song. A simple tune carried by the world itself.
A child plays the song without a thought. The world responds with the second part, and the child is scared of dropping the mandolin. Terrified he had summoned something he shouldn’t. The globe itself lay quiet the song waiting for the next verse in its worldly concerto. Chaotic disharmonies resonate within themselves, shifting into the music.
A new day comes, along with a new song. Birthed from the great collective subconscious of dreams. A song of dreams drifts into the waking world. A realm to roam and play.
In a castle, a Jester spins and falls for his King. The King laughs and the Jester stands a song drifts into the castle. The world shifts becoming less real, malleable to the dreams of the waking. Waking dreams form and join for a time. Now the Jester outfit becomes immaculate beautiful and pressed, as he grows to fill the room, the room grows with him. A spotlight shines down as he dances and tumbles, his clothing sparkles in the light. He is in his best form doing tricks he’d only dreamed of. He looked towards his king, who had grown short and gained a few whiskers. Titillated at this he pranced and preened until he looked down. Noticing the floor he danced on was no floor, but a see of knives. One wrong step would be his end. Predictably the Jester tripped, as this was just a dream he only vaguely felt the fear. Then just before he hit the ground, or in this case a rather sharp rapier. The song stopped and his face fit the stone floor. Forcing himself up the Jester sees the former mouse king with his Eyes Narrowed at him. The Jester’s fate is uncertain as the song moves on.
A shepherd watches his flock as the breeze brings a song. The sheep grow fuller their wool finer. Never did he see a better flock. When the grass grew to obscure them neither did he. He panics as the sounds of predators begin to howl, and wail. He runs into the grass after his prize-winning flock. Only for it all to fade back.
A banker catches a note his piles of gold grow to the ceiling his desk growing larger and his employees smaller, easily crushed by his thumb. Soon the gold grew to tall and toppled burying the man. The coins pushed him down deeper, his lungs unable to contract. Then he found himself alone on the floor. Safe. All across the plane dreams shifted, and warped. Life became strange all for the time it takes for a song to play.
#
In a room filled with dancers. Some were better than others, moved in rhythm, or at least tried to, follow an instructor. Somewhere near the back, a complete amateur is doing his best.
Mambo! Left foot. Right foot. Turn. Move with that rhythm, Nicki. He was focusing his all on the mambo class. On a whim, he had picked it out of a website for ways to meet people and had signed up. He was having a lot of fun. Surprisingly, in his journey to meet new people, Nicki had inadvertently gotten in the best shape of his life over the last couple of months, not to mention learned plenty of new skills and a few hatreds. He was never going back to that spin class.
Nicki had even tried Friday night magic, the card game, at a local comic book shop. He had been destroyed utterly by all the other players and completely embarrassed himself only half understanding the rules. One guy was a real ass about it. Some of the others were really cool. That’s where he hit a wall do you just ask to hang out? Or would that be weird? He thought it would be weird so he just enjoyed his time. His thoughts wandered to the kind of world that worked how the cards did. Especially the infinite combos, and if they worked. If they did there had to be some kind of detriment. That made the rest of the night a lot more fun, and ever since he started to just enjoy himself instead of stressing about meeting new people.
Nicki was really enjoying all the new things he was doing. He was even going to try paddle boarding on the local river next week.
Now though, it was Mambo time. Nicki was unaware that his Mambo dance looked like a flailing chicken, he thought he was killing it. He was really enjoying the dance class and wouldn’t mind coming back. All too soon the class came to an end.
“You all look great out there! Remember to practice and have fun!” The excitable instructor said.
Nicki was sweating heavily as he grabbed a towel from his bag when another of the attendees came up to him. A short dark haired woman that wore a top showing off her six-pack and nicely defined muscles. Nicki’s eyes kept drifting toward them.
How do I get those? Nicki looked down at his own, while no longer protruding, but still slightly flabby gut.
“Wow, you’re terrible at this.” She said mockingly.
Nicki was taken aback as he looked up seeing a playful look in the woman’s dark green eyes, “Well that’s just rude.”
She smiled, “More like an observation.”
“It is my first class.”
“First time dancing by the looks of it.”
Was I really that bad? Nicki’s good mood from the class was quickly fading. “Are you trying to bring me down?”
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“No. I’m encouraging you.” She said seriously.
“To not come back?”
“What? No.” She said taken aback.
None of this was making sense to him so he said as much. “I’m confused then.”
She looked at Nicki oddly, “So you’ll do better. You know.”
Nicki did not. “I don’t really see how that could be encouraging. You just said I sucked. Not how I could do better.”
“That’s not how this is supposed to go.” She said slightly distraught.
“How was this..." suddenly Nicki got the feeling of a new arrival. Is it that time already? He looked up at the clock and it was just past noon. He never really had a time for his work, but the pattern so far had been one in the morning and one in the afternoon. That was unless the meeting took longer. That included the weekend. “Sorry we should finish this chat up later.” He said handing her a card with his number. “I got to go. I seem to be late."
"Bye?" She watched confused looking down at the card. “What’s Hero Inc.?”
It was only later when Nicki tried to figure out what all that was about did he wonder.
Was she flirting with me or something? Completely forgetting he gave her one of his cards.
#
On a silly little shelf, there sits a doll, covered in dust and a well-worn dress. Now to the normal person or as some call them a layman, this is just a simple doll, made of plastic. They might think as most due when they see a doll of her ilk, and be slightly unsettled by her wide eye stare, or perhaps they are a bit more discerning. If they were they might notice and take into account the imperfections, possibly even the nicks and blemishes. To some, that damage might diminish its value. Make it worth less than it was. Perhaps, they might even think the doll was utterly worthless. Its dress didn’t even match and was filled with holes.
But. To those who understand. To those who know. Those who truly remember, know that it is not damage. They were marks of play, of love, and of imagination. All from her child, and she wore them with pride. As her child was always careful with her, but children are children and she understood. She loved and loves her child and he loved her back.
Once upon a time, she was always with him protecting him in a way only a little doll can. Helping him grow, work on his social skills, and just play. She had to admit she did miss the tea parties they used to have. They were such a delight, especially when she got to see that dashing soldier, he would bring around from time to time.
Ah, but it was not meant to be for her and the strapping soldier, as he was shipped off to war, or was simply lost on a family vacation. The other toys had long since gone, and it was just her left.
As she now sits up on her shelf keeping vigil over her child.
He had grown tall but he would forever be her child. Whether or not she was forgotten didn't matter. For when the dark came and he feared she was there just above radiating all the love she could bring, just the tiny bit of illumination she could, to fend the dark away. A place where she was given true life to defend him and strength to fight.
Yet here in the waking world, she sat. Watching the child grow into a man, and have children of his own. By the time they were old enough to play, she was too fragile. So they left her up on her silly little shelf, watching over her child and his. For years she sat unmoving. When her child passed she was passed on and left upon the shelf to continue her watch over his other children.
Then one fateful day a man broke into their house. He was there to harm her child. Something she couldn’t allow. Yet she had no power here. He stood under her shelf sneaking around. She needed to do something, anything. Wake them.
The stairs creaked, and the burglar froze and pulled a weapon watching the steps. No! Whether the poorly hung shelf finally gave way, or she broke it herself even she didn’t know. When the shelf fell and landed a corner on the intruder’s head. He screamed alerting the family. The burglar for his part grabbed the doll and threw her down and stomped on her breaking her old plastic, before running out.
#
Late night, a man and woman stand in their living room just having spoken with the cops. The man lifts up the broken remain of a doll he had since he was a child. One his father had passed down to him. It had become a permanent fixture of his house. He had thought it would always be a part of his little home. Now it was destroyed beyond repair.
“What are you going to do with her?” His wife asked.
“I don't know.” He said tiredly. “It's been my dad's for so long.”
“I always thought it was a bit creepy.”
He looked down at the doll. He had never felt it was creepy it had always been around watching over them. “She grows on you.”
“You can't be thinking of keeping it. It’s broken in a thousand pieces.”
He let out a long tired sigh. “Honestly, I don't know. It's not really worth much besides the sentimental. She's plastic, not porcelain. The only thing really unique is the dress, my dad made it himself.” Tears began to form in his eyes as the memory overwhelmed him.
His wife pulled him into a hug, “It's ok. We don't have to toss her. She can stay with us till we find her a home. Maybe we can glue her back together.”
The man choked, “Sorry sorry. No. No. I think it would be good to let her go.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, it’s time to let go.
#
A song reverberates through an office. A doll watches a dream of a memory turned nightmare as tears flowed from her eyes. Something her little doll body was never meant to do. She had done her job as all dolls should. That didn’t mean she was happy to say goodbye. Or to just be tossed away. She didn’t know if that conversation was real or not, she hadn’t been there. That though. Was what she feared happened to her body after she broke. That she was simply tossed away.
The music suddenly stopped as she heard Nicki’s voice.
“He seemed nice.”
Nicki reached out and place a hand on her shoulder. She knew he was trying to comfort her. That wasn’t what she wanted or needed right now. So she spun and slice with her doll-sized sword/ She spun and screamed
“That wasn’t for you!”
The weapon cut deep. Once a thing of plastic here in this place, it was real as any weapon held. She felt the blade bite into Nicki’s hand and immediately regretted it.
"MOTHERF..." Nicki began holding his hand tight staunching the blood. She watched him calm himself. Wanting to apologize to say something. But she also felt violated. He had seen her greatest fear. Her pain she kept deep down. That was hers, and no one else.
She watched as the wound healed, fading like it was never there. Saw as Nicki looked down at her.
Drystia was looking at Nicki her eyes wild. "No. I...That wasn't for you"
Nicki softly said, "Drystia."
"Shut Up!" She screamed.
"Drys"
"NO!" She screamed running out of the office.
* * *