Dream

Under most circumstances, when I wake up in the middle of the night and scribble out parts of a dream that I want to remember, I read over them in the morning and wonder to myself "what in the world is this?" This may be partially because my handwriting in the dark isn't all that great. In this particular case, I don't think the dream would make a very good book, but it might have some concepts that could be recycled for other purposes. That's what dreams are for, right?
---

She could feel the ridges under her fingers, even after the goosebumps started to fade. It had been scary enough, seeing the Thing they had called on to guide them for their festival. It had only been right to interrupt and send it away. None of them had agreed. It was only Callo's intervention that had saved her from being trampled by the mob.

"Legal"

"Do you have a better idea?"
"Yeah. Why don't you just send him to the school nurse? He skipped the school physical."
"The school physical exam is optional. I can't make him submit to it if he doesn't want to."
"Why not?"
"Because that's not legal."
"Why?"
"Aren't you too old for that question?"
"No."

Still Night

The night tells secrets the day can only dream of. Without words, the scent of the cool pre-dawn breeze can paint an image in the mind's eye, coupling with the symphony of rustling leaves, giving birth to an entirely new entity that exists entirely in the thick, foggy consciousness that hovers between the waking and sleeping worlds. She lay in the darkness, her face bathed in the soft light from her open window. Strong, German features were dipped in shadow, the hollows of her eyes glimmering in the shade of her hooked nose. In the silver light, it was hard to tell what color her shirt was, let alone her hair or eyes. But those eyes, that should have been held shut by dead-bolted dreams and triple-locked fantasies, were open and staring. What she thought she saw was unclear, but she was staring directly into the face of a man that shouldn't have been there.

Invention

Today's piece is a little old. I'm working on digging into my writing habits and kick-starting this whole "writing a book" thing again. My last project fell through (there are salvageable bits, of course, but the narrative was wandering and a little forced) so I'm starting over and trying again. 
In the meantime, enjoy a visit with Jeremy and his not-cat.

---

If only one could think things into existence. Wouldn't that be nice? Jeremy gazed forlornly at the prototype sitting on his desk, and knew it wasn't good enough. It didn't look nearly as nice as the one that he'd imagined. Of course, the one he'd imagined it a little bigger, and shinier.... Something heavy and spiky jumped into his lap and Jeremy bit his tongue as he almost yelled in surprise. Then he remembered that he'd let the cat into his room earlier. Obviously, the ridiculous creature must have been hiding under his bed for the last several hours. 

And it truly was a ridiculous creature now, neither male nor female, neither cat nor hedgehog, but something in between. The cat (he still thought of it as a cat, even if it technically wasn't one anymore) was called Hampton, and had pliable, hollow spikes from its shoulders to its haunches. There were a few on its head, but those were harder, and Hampton had taken to using them very efficiently to make its master pay more attention when it felt neglected. Which the creature now felt. Jeremy noted as his wrist started to bleed, courtesy of Hampton's earnest nudging.