“There it is again; Dude you have got to stop winking at me.” Steve is sitting across the table from the Mitch These words have passed between these two friends more than once in the last few weeks. Steve, for the last time I am not winking at you.” To say the least Mitch is getting sick and tired of this line of back and forth. The thing that really gets to him though is that Steve is not the only one. Outside of Steve half a dozen others have accused him of winking at them. It is frustrating for Mitch because he does not feel his eye close, so for the first few weeks he has taken it as a joke that a hand full of people have been trying to play on him. But it has gotten old fast, He gets up from the table and walks out of the break room and into the parking lot. He covers his eyes with his hand, the sun has come out in full force making the pavement steam and give off that nasty smell of dirt and oil. If winking was Mitch’s biggest problem he would count himself a lucky man.
For most of his life Mitch has loved to sleep his dreams are a canvas and his mind paints a landscape of stories that make him wish he could sleep for a life time. Sadly it is the really world he can’t seem to make sense of. He is 24 and for the last few years he has given up on getting anywhere in life, no family no place of his own. Late at night when he lies alone on his bed that is made for two he calls out to God and asks why he can’t have what his heart wants most and what he sees others take for granted. But then the morning comes again and his dreams have given him strength to face the day anew. Looking out over the open field that makes up the back side of the warehouse he works in Mitch’s mind drifts back to the dream he had the night before.
Like most of them; Mitch is a warrior or a wizard, he has also been a King, a thief, and many other people but always the same person. Last night he was on a hill is was a place of great importance , there were four others with him they stood backs turn to each other ready to defend. To his left was a woman she was short coming no high than his hip, she had long hair white as snow with stains of red like a leopard. She was built like a line back her arms as big as his thigh and she spun an axe in her hands like its weight was no more than a walking stick. Even with her strong build she a beautiful her face slender and soft. To his right there stood an old man even with the large traveling robe, he looked weak and frail. But it was his face that Mitch was drawn to the look in his eyes, the fire there was so intense that Mitch felt a bead of sweat fall down his neck. His face was hard and set there was no doubt or fear, whatever their mission was this man would see it done. A glow came from one hand; in the other he held a staff. The glowing hand found the end of the staff and it lite the dreamscape like the afternoon sun. For the first time Mitch saw out over and down the hill. They stood on a small cliff moving closer to his group was a legion of men and monsters and creatures from every nightmare. They smelled of death and they cried out with rage and hunger. Mitch faltered he started to step back. The old man’s arm found him and held him still. “I know boy; but this is not the first and it will not be the last, but it falls to you. Will you stand with us or run.
Mitch hears a beeping as his phone goes off. He opens his eyes again and he is still at work the ground is dry and his face is hot. He takes the phone from his pocket it is Steve and it is time to get back to work.
For most of his life Mitch has loved to sleep his dreams are a canvas and his mind paints a landscape of stories that make him wish he could sleep for a life time. Sadly it is the really world he can’t seem to make sense of. He is 24 and for the last few years he has given up on getting anywhere in life, no family no place of his own. Late at night when he lies alone on his bed that is made for two he calls out to God and asks why he can’t have what his heart wants most and what he sees others take for granted. But then the morning comes again and his dreams have given him strength to face the day anew. Looking out over the open field that makes up the back side of the warehouse he works in Mitch’s mind drifts back to the dream he had the night before.
Like most of them; Mitch is a warrior or a wizard, he has also been a King, a thief, and many other people but always the same person. Last night he was on a hill is was a place of great importance , there were four others with him they stood backs turn to each other ready to defend. To his left was a woman she was short coming no high than his hip, she had long hair white as snow with stains of red like a leopard. She was built like a line back her arms as big as his thigh and she spun an axe in her hands like its weight was no more than a walking stick. Even with her strong build she a beautiful her face slender and soft. To his right there stood an old man even with the large traveling robe, he looked weak and frail. But it was his face that Mitch was drawn to the look in his eyes, the fire there was so intense that Mitch felt a bead of sweat fall down his neck. His face was hard and set there was no doubt or fear, whatever their mission was this man would see it done. A glow came from one hand; in the other he held a staff. The glowing hand found the end of the staff and it lite the dreamscape like the afternoon sun. For the first time Mitch saw out over and down the hill. They stood on a small cliff moving closer to his group was a legion of men and monsters and creatures from every nightmare. They smelled of death and they cried out with rage and hunger. Mitch faltered he started to step back. The old man’s arm found him and held him still. “I know boy; but this is not the first and it will not be the last, but it falls to you. Will you stand with us or run.
Mitch hears a beeping as his phone goes off. He opens his eyes again and he is still at work the ground is dry and his face is hot. He takes the phone from his pocket it is Steve and it is time to get back to work.
