Short Story: I Fade Into Golden Dreams

This is a short story I derived on an even shorter I wrote three years ago. I decided to use it as inspiration to write a proper one. If you don’t understand it, just see what the character sees in your heart’s mind as you read.

Decorated in misery I drift above the air-stream. I see the mountains and the rivers, dull patches age which once were young and bright. The source of my creation stands motionless bellow. The invisible dreamer forces me to dance more than before. Soon however the dance will stop, but how long, how long until is done? My soul keeps going through the currents, sometimes gentle, others threatening, unpredictable and every so often simply indifferent to my presence. These are the times when I am free to descend, until she arrives again.

I am just but passing by you see. My days are short but long are my dreams. I fell from my creator’s arms and lost my way, never to be seen again. My colors transform into a beauty that is often left untold. A beauty which is feared, a beauty which shows liberty; when you leave home or your home leaves you.
I contemplate my dance, my turns and sunburn marks, wondering when will I stop; maybe up here, like this, gently under my lady’s arms, in a dream. She took me you see, this dreamer of seas. I call her like this, because she loves to spend more time at the sea than where I used to live. We used to play on the sweet mornings in spring; I was just a baby then. In summer she warmed me and I took comfort in her arms as I tried to understand the damage they were causing on my land. Then autumn arrived, like a silent thunder at night, stealing our joy and our colorful might. She was angered and I don’t know why. No one explained to me how long this short life of mine would last. But still I breathed and I rejoiced in her company during my ambiguous flight.

I see something in sight. Something tall and dark, so tall I realize this is it, she will be gone. Among the darkness, a reflection of moonlight is pushed aside. Before she parts, she gently lays me on something soft. The softness has colors, lines of grey and blue. I look around as far as I could, as without her I cannot move. There are barriers around me, dark in blue; and objects, strange objects hanging like we do. Some resembling those I saw while dancing close to the moon. Close to the barrier, over a square object with captured sunlight, there is an image, a depiction of my own beautiful past. I gaze with nostalgia at my cruel reality.

I came from a distant land, far away… too far I guess. I landed over softness and moonlight rays. Abandoned by my best friend, I laid to rest. Golden, weak, I can hardly breathe. The barrier opens; the one that has a different color than the rest. It’s a human! A child. Oh how I missed their smiles! They used to visit us very often, much more than the ones they called adults. We would watch them closely, living our life through their bright smiles. Some of us would die in their small hands, but such a departure was one to honor than any other. Because at that moment as we faded, were the source of their joy. Under the spell of elation I forget for a moment my ill-fated state. The child jumps and I leap again. Maybe this is my destiny, where I have no choice; maybe this is but a dream, a short lived dream I will relive again. I land in a dark place and the child ignores my presence. I want to be found. I want to feel his touch before I drown. Perhaps living my last breath through this child is the perfect way to dry out.

Before my last breath, it happens again, the moonlight rays are pushed away. I listen to words I cannot understand. My lady dreamer takes me gently away but the child caught my stare. He stretches his hands and holds me with care. I see in his eyes my own reflection. My golden shine is gone; my life is dissipating; only brittle painless brown remains. I breathe one more time at the child’s gaze wishing to tell him about all the places where I went. I wished to tell him my story, about my long journeys and short days, plead him to help us live again. I see beauty in his eyes, the beauty he sees in me, regardless of how old and dry must I be. He smiles, lift me up to the moonlight, and set me free. My lady holds me once again, my dreamer of seas.

‘One last dance’, she says.
I wonder what is next.
I start to fade.
I cease to exist.

she writes