Fever Dream: The Price To Be RepaidLast night I had the strangest dream.
I was at school and I'd done something different. Not wrong. Just different. Deviant. Unusual.
The school wasn't really my school, it was a different one. I recognized no one. My teacher was strange, a cruel taskmaster. I think I knew it was a dream.
The teacher told the Punishment Minister to punish me. He sent his apprentice to hurt me. Five times he struck me so hard a normal person would crumple and fall. I bend over in pain, but I stood my ground. He was astonished.
I was let to go free.
My classmates were with me now. We were boating in the Old Place, a giant metal cavern of girders. It was a field trip, I think. We were in pairs. I was with my friend Biares. Maybe it was Silas. Neither of them are people I know outside of the dream.
There was a threat and something happened. This part is vieled to me.
I grew up in a family.
Peter Pan Rewrite Prologue (Preliminary)All children grow up. It is a bittersweet and inescapable truth. One could say that the Earth turns, the wind blows, and children turn into adults. It just happens.
Wendy Darling found this out relatively easy compared to some, but still it shook her. She was playing in the garden, frolicking, jumping, running, and generally trying to expend as much energy as possible. Mid-jump, time froze for her, and she saw her mother standing and watching her, with a melancholy look on her face.
That was all that she saw or heard on the subject, but she knew that that it wasn't going to last. She was only two at the time, but the memory stayed with her.
Unbeknown to her, another figure was watching her. High in the sky, 50 feet at least, was a boy. He had reddish-brown hair and shocking green eyes, and was wearing a tunic made of green leaves. He had a pointed face and ears, and he looked like the ver
The WriterThere's a man who lives in the city
A brownstone apartment block
Sitting at midnight at his desk
And waiting for inspiration to knock
For this man is a writer
Who creates, (and is truly a sage)
Not numbers, or objects that you can touch
But printed words on the page
His characters take more life than him
His settings vivid and real
But the man is a pale shadow
Feels no verve or zeal
But such is the life of the writer
Who pours out his soul and gives it a name
Binds it in paper and sells it away
As his tiger heart grows tame
And all this man wishes
Is to feel the touch of something alive
A woman, perhaps, or a child or a pet
Something to help him survive
But we know he'll never get it
If he continues to write
It'll throw him off and steal his career
And shove him from the limelight
There are others like him out there
Millions of struggling women and men
Kindred spirits, tortured souls
Slaving with the paper and pen
But maybe they'll get redemption
A reward for what amounts to zero
Beautiful NoiseCome, let us make beautiful noise,
You and I in harmony.
Let us write songs in the key of joy;
Sing ballads to ecstasy.
Come, let us make beautiful noise -
You on the fiddle, I on the guitar.
We'll sing songs of treasures great and small,
Of lands near and far!
Come, let us make beautiful noise!
We'll escape to the mountains where we'll be free;
Or the ocean, where we'll sing shanties,
Prayers to grandfather Sea.
Come, let us make beautiful noise.
You don't need fame or skill,
For all happy fools can sing a song;
There's music where there's a will.
Come and make beautiful noise with me.
Open Your EyesThere was a race of people
Who had never seen the sun
Who sat in cold, dark caves all day
Each and every one
But a young man chanced upon them
Who's skin glowed like unworldly skies
He said, "You don't have to hide anymore!
Get up and open your eyes!"
There was a great spaceship
A tomb drifting between the stars
It's people had never been outside
And counted their lives in hours.
But a wise man found them drifting
Who had heard both truth and lies
And said, "There's a whole world out there!
Fly free and open your eyes!"
There was an ancient religion
Who's followers were shunned wherever they went
Good people they were, but still they were hated
People screamed at them, "Repent!"
But a great man was born among them
And as to heaven he did rise
He said, "There is no limit to what you do!
Reach out and open your eyes!"