Short Stories : Fragments of A Dream

Short Stories : Fragments of A Dream

 

Short stories. Fragments of a dream.

 

 

stories dream

 

 

SHORT STORIES: FRAGMENTS OF A DREAM

 

When I first laid my eyes on him, he was coming down a set of stairs from the rooftop. His long black coat billowing in the wind as he continued conversing with those group of men. I wasn’t exactly sure how I got there, who he was and why my eyes were drawn to him. It wasn’t even that he was the most gorgeous man that I have ever laid my eyes on––not to say he wasn’t gorgeous, but still…

The man didn’t even realize that I was staring, so focused he was in their discussion. Whatever it was about. It was, strange, the way my eyes kept getting pulled back to him. It was as if I knew him, from another time, another reality. 

 

––––

 

There was a fire somewhere, perhaps in a fireplace somewhere in the room. I couldn’t see it, but the room felt warm. Someone was cuddling up to me, trying to get me to sleep. Don’t ask me how I know. But I couldn’t, for some reason I just wasn’t able to get comfortable. I sat up, ready to just gave up on sleep when I saw someone throw their blanket back and walked up to me.

It was him, the man from the stairs. His presence reminds me of home, of safety. Places were switched, before long he was the one cuddling up to me. We didn’t even trade a word to each other, seemed like everything was perfectly understood by looks alone. 

I could feel myself getting drowsier. The heat that was suffocating before, is now comfortable. Perhaps I was sleepy after all, or perhaps, he was just a magician. 

A sleep witch. 

 

––––

 

We spent a lot of time together, me and him. Sharing laughter, breath, kisses. I would have even shared my farts with him had he asked. 

Perhaps it was all an illusion. Perhaps it was fake. But then again, perhaps it was real. And maybe, just maybe, it was love

 

––––

 

But as they say, all things must come to an end. 

He had done things, this lover of mine. Bad things, terrible things. And people were coming for him, chasing him down. Combing ever streets and cities. For my sweet, dear lover. 

For one day he was there, and then he was gone, never to be found. Without a word nor goodbyes. Just like how he barrelled into my life like a meteorite, he left as if all of that had been a dream. I suppose in a sense he was right. 

And I didn’t even get to kiss him goodbye. 

 

 

 

 

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