I was fired. I was shamed. I was banned from the premises and too was blamed.

The review was quite short.

“What are you? A beau. You have went over your maximum occurrence. I must let you go.” The boss interrogated me. He did see me as a nuisance and dismiss me in front of the employees.

The security guard escort me out from the building in gladness. I had never gotten along with the guard after catching the mastermind of persuasion. His uncontrollable grin is infectious. Him of course, who’d peeked inside the ladies’ locker room of his mischief.

Though have I not say one word about the event, who was glad that I, the only witness who cross his path from an errand will leave for good, never to return to provoke a new era because I am not a social media fanatic. The guard bump his knuckle with one of the three higher ups from the corner of my eyes. A coup to mute the victim on other important stuff I may not be aware of.

Silence was me game from the glance. I would be taciturn of these things. And so, gave them the silent treatment. What am I, a boy? Mayhaps, but who knows.

A childish technique greatly tuned to ignore the stench of whispers in communed. An indolent feast of evil. A nibble lick of ecstasy. Has it begat the dregs of night and day shift. I pack up and left the factory.

“What an interesting dream.” That was the first thought when I woke up. It has been two years of moon passing by no less. I over slept because I was not depress.

I am deprived of sleep. Working twelve hours Monday through Friday took a heavy toll on my vitality. I may be crazy to think that two years on standby would help solve the estrange issue, concerning the unseen world. Little to no avail; the head hurts.

“Frequency, pulse and statics are killing me.” I said, heading over to an old misshaped desk massaging the noggin. The eyes are weary. The television was on the previous night. Mosaic noise pulsating and delivered a bad headache. It took a while to find the controller on the desk.

Click.

The room was more placid than an average house of mourning. There were no birds signing, no harmless bugs dancing nor was there an existence of a neighbor’s presence. Only a soft buzz of a refrigerator made the top news; cowardly residues wondering around in the glorious sunlight near the window; and a jist of aura that filled the room was peace enough. A dream must be recorded. That was my mission the moment I awoke.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

“. . . . .” It was too late. Time was stalled. More than a third of the exciting dream had escape my visionary senses dotting a notebook with a pen. Suddenly, my misfortune hits. The grafted peg of the table crack, jolted me from the pressure build-up from the elbow before the wind graces my creativity.

The coffee table is stacked with books and drawings and papers and pens. A flush of air seeped through the trenches of novels and kept it warm. Ah, those summer winds. I bathe in the warm light, wrote ridiculous tales and drew creatures to the slightest details. A mature man with a child at heart, regretted even by the most crazies and howling zombies because I’m not the most handsomest earth-born on the planet.

What a cringe. Not me. Self-insertion is indeed embarrassing. A plus for many writers on a whim on the internet.

I have to find ways to make some monies. I cannot rely on the power of friendship. Perhaps true love from a sugar mommy, an unspoken taste of this real world. Boy, the rent is overdue. The maintenance below hates my gut. So what’s new?

Reality has left the room.

Laying my head on the table, I spot a word. The word was elves. And beside the word was an unfinished jotted idea, nomadic. Yea, elves are too commonly used. It reminded me of clockwork creatures. So I advise myself to write drafts focusing on cultures and oddities.

Draft 101:

ELVFTHERIAL – A clan of the high order who journeyed into the northern continent of Highland. Creators of the first Congress of Magi. The progenitors of the first Voyagers into the abyss. Elfvtherials are known for their loved of music, ever greatly to wield instruments as weapons of war. It is a custom in the clan to keep the hair long for longevity. A tradition that is practice in their lineage that they are the true heir of elvessals. Their lovable and noble hair shines of golden lions and whimsical auras.

DURKILFV – Warrior elvfodites who had lost connection to their maker. They ruled the southeastern lands in power. Bandits they mostly became, foraging the vast plain in an endless battle against humans and dragons’ gourds. Constant skirmishes along the borders of the civilized elvfodites. The reasonable durkilfvs build their nation of black steels and from the skins of great crystal wyverns. The hunters of the night hair shines of silver lakes and burning rubies.

ELVFYN – Poor group of amenans separated from the outside world from an old age dispute between the branches of elvessals. The nomadic tribes are made up of the injured, farmers and leftovers . . . . .

“Ackkk!” The creative juices ran out. Again, the dotting of the pen. Only the light thoughts of ideas representing other creatures are active.