A Mind in Motion

**Sometimes my dreams deliver awesome, twisted, stories for me to enjoy. This is one I had this morning** The old heavy rusted iron door unexpectedly slammed shut behind. Whirling around, lump of fear rising in her throat, she reached out for the handle in the darkness consuming her vision and tugged. But the door refused to move. “Michael,” she called out shakily, hoping he had heard the door close from where he had been just meters down the hall. “Michael,” she called again, louder, her tone growing frantic. How could he have not heard it? She called his name a third time, shouting it as she banged her palm on the door, the sound echoing around her. As the cacophony faded though, she was met with only silence. Shit! This had been a stupid idea. A very, very stupid idea. ‘Let’s go check out the abandoned haunted attraction on old man Miller’s farm’ , Michael had said. ‘ My dad’ll take us, even chill in the truck outside in case anybody else comes around’ , he...

I grew up around the fire stacks, hidden away in the hills surrounded by a thick forest. We were a small community but one held fast to the traditions of hard work and strong family ties. I was there the day the stacks blew and the storm clouds came in. It had never happened before, the two colliding in the sky. We had been preparing for the coming rain, covering our homes and bundling down under pillows and blankets to keep warm. The storms help the stacks cool down, allowing us to work and live around them without the ground getting hot beneath our feet. The clouds arrived like always on the backs of phoenixes. Graceful, vibrant birds with long necks and tails; the Northern phoenix with rich blue feathers like the ocean carried her grey clouds behind her as the Southern phoenix, white like snow, carried her own. It's beautiful to watch them dance in a mating ritual, soaring and circling one another, blending the clouds together in a thunderous release of passion and ...

     There is always a strong appeal to those who find themselves in reluctant situations and yet rise up to meet them anyway. Or are unaware how powerful and heroic they are because they are narrow sighted in their perception of themselves. These individuals draw us with their torment, humbleness, strength and defeats. Do we envy them? That they are so conflicting they can't help but tell wonderful stories? Or do we ache to be the things they are lacking? The belief to their doubt? The companion to their loneliness? The happiness to their sorrow?      "A sour Knight . An unwilling Queen . Two hearts forged by fire and tears. They felt so feeble and believed in nothing, yet they could shape worlds with their untainted Dreams ..."

     The day had come.       It shouldn't have felt so unexpected. We should have been more prepared. Still, can anyone really pinpoint the exact moment warning klaxons are going to start going off and the Space Station you built was finally breaching? Yeah, you repaired the fissures. You kept everything going, leaving the residences under your care completely oblivious, yet prepared. But you knew this day would come.         It's just that the timing sucks.     The party atmosphere suddenly dies down and soon everyone is looking around. Then their eyes settle on the screens surrounding them and the clipped automated female voice encouraging everyone to climb into the nearest space suit and launch their escape pods. It takes mere seconds and then they are moving, dropping everything as they sprint to the nearest panel where the suits and pods are hidden within the frame work of the station. Dresses, tuxedos, ...