500 Words a Day - Ocean Dreams

Of course, the sea was barely salty.

It had a hint of salt, as otherwise no one would have recognised it as the ocean at all, but by and large the Ocean of Dreams tasted like liquorice or caramel, and the overriding impression on tasting it was sweetness.

Yet nevertheless, the dreamer hesitated on the shores. Her toes barely touched the sea foam as the waves ploughed their course up and down the golden sand. Not really sand - the dreamers toes were curled around the dust of ancient dreams, from long forgotten sleepers, who had fallen into the real and never returned. Each mote of sand called in a different voice, but she could barely hear them, so intent was she in scanning the horizon.

With a soft surge, another wave drifted up the beach, this time caressing her feet with lovers’ kisses before whispering away. The tide was coming in and her watch was nearly over for another day.

She couldn’t say for sure why she had started watching, nor what precisely she was watching for, but in between wakings this was where she always wanted to be - on the shore of the Ocean, with the living breeze in her hair, the sand brushing her skin. It reminded her of - something. Something she still could not grasp.

And so for eighteen years she had stood, and breathed the sea air, and watched, and waited. Occasionally she would see other dreamers - lovers, fighters, travellers. Knights and shamans, singers and fools, all had passed by in their time, but they never lingered. The sea which drew her so irresistibly seemed to repel all others, as if its voice was crying for her alone.

“Jasmine,” it whispered, as it rushed towards her.

“Jasmine…” it sighed as it retreated once more.

The familiar weariness was returning, her eyelids getting heavy. The world was calling her back. She prepared to surrender to the darkness.

When something changed, a mast of a ship penetrated the horizon, a crimson sail, purple pennants streaming. A huge boat was skimming the waves, heading directly for the shore with alarming speed.

The dreamer could not move - she found herself completely entranced by the oncoming vessel, as it approached, neared, and then drew itself up onto the sand.

“Jasmine, my darling, my love,” called a soft, familiar voice, bubbling up from inside the ship. “I am here at last!”

It took her a second to find her voice. “Who - who are you?”

A man dressed in swathes of blue and green leapt over the railings and landed in a cloud of sand. His eyes twinkled beneath a mass of hair.

“Jasmine! It is I, the Ocean itself. I have become human so I can love you just as you love me. Come, let me hold you close.”

“No, no, no” whispered the dreamer, covering her eyes.

“What is it, my love? Do you not love me? Is this not what your heart has desired for these eighteen long years?”

She uncovered her eyes, and faced him sombrely, afraid of somehow breaking him.

“I do love you,” she said, “but just the dream of you.”

And with that, Jasmine woke.

Writing Ideas - Musings, Dreams and Visions

The Book of Josiah is finished, Radiance is being rewritten (albeit slowly), Lost Words has been completely found, and I've released all the Tales of the Dreamscape. So what should I be writing next?

Here are my assorted musings about things I might want to write as a future project (and obviously these different ideas vary hugely both in length and amount of time needed to research them) - I'd love to hear what you think of these different thoughts - what kind of thing would you enjoy reading?

Let me know!

FATHER HOPE'S STORY
Another tale of the dreamscape, about a priest of the Unreal Gods who loses his faith, and his student Brother Fearful who finds his own strength. The denial of reality seems to preclude change and redemption. They meet personifications of their own emotions as they make a pilgrimage across the Dreamscape.


INVASION
Story of an ‘alien’ invasion of the world, told over the period of 20-30 years from multiple points of view, characters banding together and falling apart.

Team of spies recruited to infiltrate the alien world. Living computer games stolen from another world are actually the young of an advanced alien race who come to our planet to wreak vengeance.

"The first Jack heard of the invasion, was when #aliens began to sharply trend on twitter."

Continued after the break...

Tales of the Dreamscape - Treasure House - Part 2

Part 1 is here.

The staff -
Symbol Unreal,
Topped with serpents’ feathers.
Blood is in their eyes and hearts -
They fight.


* * *

For escape eternal we still yearn,
From words of pain and worlds of hate,
The corroded key has one last turn.

The passion, the craving, still they burn,
We rail against the Dreamscape’s fate
For escape eternal we still yearn.

The key itself has one concern
To open up each potential gate -
The corroded key has one last turn.

Before we choose, we still must learn
How our hunger we can sate -
For escape eternal we still yearn.

The last door we have yet to earn,
How can we sit, and pause, and wait?
The corroded key has one last turn.

But the edge of the door we can discern,
And pray it won’t arrive too late,
For escape eternal we still yearn
The corroded key has one last turn.

Tales of the Dreamscape - Treasure House - Part 1

The deepest cave in Dreamscape’s shifting land,
Beneath the wondrous home of Duke and consort,
Contains the greatest treasures that the world
Has ever known, or dreamt in midnight hours
When the moon is low, and the stars are free and twinkling
In the cloth of softest night and darkest sky.
Wherever gold has glittered, silver shone,
The cave of dreams is there, gently waiting -
And all your treasures are contained within
Where all desires begin.

And when the wind blows cold from northern climes
With diamond snow from Dreamscape’s farthest shores,
The proud and lordly Duke of Dreams trembles,
Seeks refuge in the cave of ancient trove,
Wandering winding ways among the gems,
That shift their forms as the dreamer lingering stares.
He finds a treasure never seen before,
Inspects it with his bright and piercing gaze -
The choicest prize your mind has deftly wrought,
Is there as solid thought.

Dreamscape - Behind the Scenes

So far I've posted seven tales of the Dreamscape, posted in the order in which I wrote them. They are:
•Gladiator
•Birth Day
•Sir Gallant 1 and 2
•Genesis
•Prophecy
•The Dinner Party 1 and 2
•Woman of his Dreams 1 and 2

But I haven't written anything about why or how I began to write this cycle. I decided that that ought to change.



Origin of the Dreamscape
I've been working on stories in this world for a long time. I distinctly remember when the first words of Gladiator came into my head as I was walking to the train station in Bristol having spent the weekend with my future wife. Suddenly the opening words coalesced in my mind, and I had to keep repeating them over and over so as not to forget them before I had a chance to write them down.

That was about 7 years ago.

The initial idea was, I believe, the science-fiction element - a dystopian London where the homeless are driven underground and forced to live in the dark and filth. There I imagined they created their own parallel reality of dream and fable, a place where no one suffered and everyone could have all they wanted. I believe that the element of the dream world was very much inspired by Neil Gaiman's Sandman (which is my favourite book of all time and if you haven't read the series, you really must).

Development of the Tales
But what made this idea better than many others I've had over the years, I think, is that this world provided a frame for far more than just science-fiction stories. In this world of dream and fable I could explore ideas of religion, fantasy, mythology and fairy-tale.

I realised that within this one world I could tell stories in every genre I love.

(more after the jump)

Tales of the Dreamscape - Woman of his Dreams - Part 2

Part 1 is here.

    Jack Numbskull sat on the rock outside the black fortress, held his head in his hands and stared glumly at the blue sky. His mother had been right after all, he had no idea where even to begin - the king of the giants? four rings that are five? what did any of it mean? No, he would have to go home a failure. What would his father think of him if he could see him now?
    And just as he was sure he would never see Aurore’s smiling face again, he heard the magical sound of her singing rising over the hills.
    He bounded up and raced towards her, his heart thundering inside his chest as he beheld her beauteous form.
    “Jack,” she said, and offered up a small, shy smile.
    “Aurore, my love,” he replied, “I was beginning to think I would never see your beauty again, for your father’s challenges are too much for me.”
    “Oh Jack,” she answered, “do not fret - I will help you overcome all obstacles, for together surely nothing can stand against us.”
    He grasped her delicate hand in his, and gently kissed it.
    “You are as generous as you are radiant,” he said, and together they strode off towards Grayhome, the land of the giants.

Tales of the Dreamscape - Woman of his dreams - Part 1

 

   Her beauty was, of course, legendary. Even in the Palace of Dreams itself, tales of Aurore’s golden curls and entrancing smile were whispered over the endless feasts. Talk of her beauty was the joy of every young man who dreamt of romance, and the envy of every young woman who dreamt of the same. But hand in hand with the tales of her beauty came stories of her father, Noxus, and his unreasonable and overwhelming attachment to his only child - for he would not allow anyone to court her who had not passed a series of gruelling tasks. What exactly these tasks were, none could say for certain. Some described ferocious battles with seven knights dressed in black. Others said that whoever would marry Aurore must best her in a chariot race or bring her a black diamond. But all one could say for certain was that many had sought her hand and so far, none had succeeded and, having been bound to secrecy, none would describe the challenges they had faced. But suitors kept on trying and kept on dreaming.
    Jack Numbskull had just turned sixteen years old, and felt ready to strike out on his own. His mother, not being an especially adventurous dreamer, had raised him on a small farm. Jack had helped to plough the fields, sow the seeds and bake the bread of dreams. At night, they had sat by the fire and Jack listened to his mother tell him all about the noble deeds of the Duke of Dreams, the Dusk Warrior and Sir Gallant, grandmaster of the mouse. Jack did not remember his father - his mother would say nothing about him when asked but shake her head sadly - so Jack used to imagine that his father had also been a brave hero, riding to the rescue of those in distress.
    Now Jack was no longer a child and he longed to have his own adventures, go on quests that his father would be proud of. So naturally, when his mother told him the story of Aurore, he resolved to make his way to her house immediately.
    “Jack, my son, no one has yet passed the tests of Aurore’s father, Noxus. How can you hope to succeed where so many have failed?”
    “Mother, I must go to seek my fortune wherever it lies. The Unreal gods will guide me.”
    “Jack, Jack. Must you go? Will you not stay here and mind the farm. Who will help me when the harvest comes?”
    Jack smiled. “Dream up a donkey mother, for I must be off to see the Dreamscape and win my bride. It’s what my father would have wanted.”
    His mother smiled a little at that, and nodded absently. Jack Numbskull gave her a hug, a kiss on the cheek and set out on his way, whistling tunelessly as he went.