The dreams had abated for nearly 4 weeks, and not without noted relief to your psyche. But last night the dream of the solder returned.
The woods were thick and obscured the field before you. The drooping branches and dense foliage prevents you from seeing anything more than 100 feet away. Add to that the dimming sunlight of the rapidly approaching evening and the visibility continues to drop. You know that a mist will soon begin to rise. The muggy heavy air, just after sun down will form swirling mists and banks of fog. When that happens you know you will not be able to see anything past 15 feet, but yet you have to press on.
What is waiting for you in these dark woods? Where is it? Is their danger? All these questions blend to a chaotic pronouncement of fear.
The walk seems indefinite, but somehow with each step much more foreboding. The thin gossamer stands of moonlight filtering through the canopy cast a bizarre pattern of dots upon the forest floor. Where the light strikes water the tendrils of illumination dance and play upon the ground. This image is nearly serene until the mists begin to rise.
The fog slips between trees and gives form to the light beams. The mists play flowing by and through the forest gives these moonbeams near substance and perverse form. They diffuse the light almost like a natural lantern, slowly pulsing as the breeze pushes the fogs around the trees. It is then you see them, three figures among the trees. Each fills you with a sense of doom.
The first is a grotesquely tall and thin man. He is wearing a dark suit and broad brimmed hat. His skin is pale and his eyes are powerful points of amber light. In his left hand, he is carrying a leather attaché case and in his right hand, a wooden yardstick. He simply stands among the trees silently mouthing words to some imperceptible lecture. The second figure is that of a giant tin solder. This gigantic child toy is roughly painted in the colors of the British army. The metal man is armed with a musket and wears a large bedroll on its back. The third figure is a naked girl. She is light skinned and delicate in both form and feature. Her long flowing brown hair seems to flow and dance beyond what can be explained by the mild breeze. She stands upon the forest floor, but looks as if she could simply float away. With cat-like grace she dances within the forest.
Your musket is readied and aimed downrange before you even think about the possibility of firing. Looking along the sights you could easily dispatch any one of the figures…With no need for careful aim you fire your weapon into the overgrown toy. The shot strikes the metal body with a dull metallic thud and creates a shower of atomized paint that resembles a cloud of blood. The metal figure is undisturbed. Only the small black blemish of your shot serves are testament to your actions. The darkness of the forest begins to press in around you. Whatever is out there has found you. Your soul is claimed…
The woods were thick and obscured the field before you. The drooping branches and dense foliage prevents you from seeing anything more than 100 feet away. Add to that the dimming sunlight of the rapidly approaching evening and the visibility continues to drop. You know that a mist will soon begin to rise. The muggy heavy air, just after sun down will form swirling mists and banks of fog. When that happens you know you will not be able to see anything past 15 feet, but yet you have to press on.
What is waiting for you in these dark woods? Where is it? Is their danger? All these questions blend together to a chaotic pronouncement of fear.
The walk seems indefinite, but somehow with each step much more foreboding. The thin gossamer stands of moonlight filtering through the canopy cast a bizarre pattern of dots upon the forest floor. Where the light strikes water the tendrils of illumination dance and play upon the ground. This image is nearly serene until the mists begin to rise.
The fog slips between trees and gives form to the light beams. The mists play flowing by and through the forest gives these moonbeams near substance and perverse form. They diffuse the light almost like a natural lantern, slowly pulsing as the breeze pushes the fogs around the trees. It is then you see them, three figures among the trees. Each fills you with a sense of doom.
The first is a grotesquely tall and thin man. He is wearing a dark suit and broad brimmed hat. His skin is pale and his eyes are powerful points of amber light. In his left hand, he is carrying a leather attaché case and in his right hand, a wooden yardstick. He simply stands among the trees silently mouthing words to some imperceptible lecture. The second figure is that of a giant tin solder. This gigantic child toy is roughly painted in the colors of the British army. The metal man is armed with a musket and wears a large bedroll on its back. The third figure is a naked girl. She is light skinned and delicate in both form and feature. Her long flowing brown hair seems to flow and dance beyond what can be explained by the mild breeze. She stands upon the forest floor, but looks as if she could simply float away. With cat-like grace she dances within the forest.
Your musket is readied and aimed downrange before you even think about the possibility of firing. Looking along the sights you could easily dispatch any one of the figures…With careful aim you discharge you rifle at the naked girl. Her rapid and random movements confound the shot and she dances behind a tree just as the mini-ball flees downrange. You are sure to have missed, were it not for a perfect deflection from an old oak. The speeding metal struck the dancing girl and crumpled her fragile body…
The woods were thick and obscured the field before you. The drooping branches and dense foliage prevents you from seeing anything more than 100 feet away. Add to that the dimming sunlight of the rapidly approaching evening and the visibility continues to drop. You know that a mist will soon begin to rise. The muggy heavy air, just after sun down will form swirling mists and banks of fog. When that happens you know you will not be able to see anything past 15 feet, but yet you have to press on.
What is waiting for you in these dark woods? Where is it? Is their danger? All these questions blend together to a chaotic pronouncement of fear.
The walk seems indefinite, but somehow with each step much more foreboding. The thin gossamer stands of moonlight filtering through the canopy cast a bizarre pattern of dots upon the forest floor. Where the light strikes water the tendrils of illumination dance and play upon the ground. This image is nearly serene until the mists begin to rise.
The fog slips between trees and gives form to the light beams. The mists play flowing by and through the forest gives these moonbeams near substance and perverse form. They diffuse the light almost like a natural lantern, slowly pulsing as the breeze pushes the fogs around the trees. It is then you see them, three figures among the trees. Each fills you with a sense of doom.
The first is a grotesquely tall and thin man. He is wearing a dark suit and broad brimmed hat. His skin is pale and his eyes are powerful points of amber light. In his left hand, he is carrying a leather attaché case and in his right hand, a wooden yardstick. He simply stands among the trees silently mouthing words to some imperceptible lecture. The second figure is that of a giant tin solder. This gigantic child toy is roughly painted in the colors of the British army. The metal man is armed with a musket and wears a large bedroll on its back. The third figure is a naked girl. She is light skinned and delicate in both form and feature. Her long flowing brown hair seems to flow and dance beyond what can be explained by the mild breeze. She stands upon the forest floor, but looks as if she could simply float away. With cat-like grace she dances within the forest.
Your musket is readied and aimed downrange before you even think about the possibility of firing. Looking along the sights you could easily dispatch any one of the figures…Placing the iron sights directly in-line with the head of the tall man in the suit, you fire. The bullet races to the gangly man and strikes him fully in the mouth. The shot tears into his flesh and pulps his face, but somehow he is not harmed. He simply keeps on presenting his lecture, adding the lack of a mouth to the noiseless speech…
The woods were thick and obscured the field before you. The drooping branches and dense foliage prevents you from seeing anything more than 100 feet away. Add to that the dimming sunlight of the rapidly approaching evening and the visibility continues to drop. You know that a mist will soon begin to rise. The muggy heavy air, just after sun down will form swirling mists and banks of fog. When that happens you know you will not be able to see anything past 15 feet, but yet you have to press on.
What is waiting for you in these dark woods? Where is it? Is their danger? All these questions blend to a chaotic pronouncement of fear.
The walk seems indefinite, but somehow with each step much more foreboding. The thin gossamer stands of moonlight filtering through the canopy cast a bizarre pattern of dots upon the forest floor. Where the light strikes water the tendrils of illumination dance and play upon the ground. This image is nearly serene until the mists begin to rise.
The fog slips between trees and gives form to the light beams. The mists play flowing by and through the forest gives these moonbeams near substance and perverse form. They diffuse the light almost like a natural lantern, slowly pulsing as the breeze pushes the fogs around the trees. It is then you see them, three figures among the trees. Each fills you with a sense of doom.
The first is a grotesquely tall and thin man. He is wearing a dark suit and broad brimmed hat. His skin is pale and his eyes are powerful points of amber light. In his left hand, he is carrying a leather attaché case and in his right hand, a wooden yardstick. He simply stands among the trees silently mouthing words to some imperceptible lecture. The second figure is that of a giant tin solder. This gigantic child toy is roughly painted in the colors of the British army. The metal man is armed with a musket and wears a large bedroll on its back. The third figure is a naked girl. She is light skinned and delicate in both form and feature. Her long flowing brown hair seems to flow and dance beyond what can be explained by the mild breeze. She stands upon the forest floor, but looks as if she could simply float away. With cat-like grace she dances within the forest.
Your musket is readied and aimed downrange before you even think about the possibility of firing. Looking along the sights you could easily dispatch any one of the figures…With no need for careful aim you fire your weapon into the overgrown toy. The shot strikes the metal body with a dull metallic thud and creates a shower of atomized paint that resembles a cloud of blood. The metal figure is undisturbed. Only the small black blemish of your shot serves are testament to your actions. The darkness of the forest begins to press in around you. Whatever is out there has found you. Your soul is claimed…
The woods were thick and obscured the field before you. The drooping branches and dense foliage prevents you from seeing anything more than 100 feet away. Add to that the dimming sunlight of the rapidly approaching evening and the visibility continues to drop. You know that a mist will soon begin to rise. The muggy heavy air, just after sun down will form swirling mists and banks of fog. When that happens you know you will not be able to see anything past 15 feet, but yet you have to press on.
What is waiting for you in these dark woods? Where is it? Is their danger? All these questions blend together to a chaotic pronouncement of fear.
The walk seems indefinite, but somehow with each step much more foreboding. The thin gossamer stands of moonlight filtering through the canopy cast a bizarre pattern of dots upon the forest floor. Where the light strikes water the tendrils of illumination dance and play upon the ground. This image is nearly serene until the mists begin to rise.
The fog slips between trees and gives form to the light beams. The mists play flowing by and through the forest gives these moonbeams near substance and perverse form. They diffuse the light almost like a natural lantern, slowly pulsing as the breeze pushes the fogs around the trees. It is then you see them, three figures among the trees. Each fills you with a sense of doom.
The first is a grotesquely tall and thin man. He is wearing a dark suit and broad brimmed hat. His skin is pale and his eyes are powerful points of amber light. In his left hand, he is carrying a leather attaché case and in his right hand, a wooden yardstick. He simply stands among the trees silently mouthing words to some imperceptible lecture. The second figure is that of a giant tin solder. This gigantic child toy is roughly painted in the colors of the British army. The metal man is armed with a musket and wears a large bedroll on its back. The third figure is a naked girl. She is light skinned and delicate in both form and feature. Her long flowing brown hair seems to flow and dance beyond what can be explained by the mild breeze. She stands upon the forest floor, but looks as if she could simply float away. With cat-like grace she dances within the forest.
Your musket is readied and aimed downrange before you even think about the possibility of firing. Looking along the sights you could easily dispatch any one of the figures…With careful aim you discharge you rifle at the naked girl. Her rapid and random movements confound the shot and she dances behind a tree just as the mini-ball flees downrange. You are sure to have missed, were it not for a perfect deflection from an old oak. The speeding metal struck the dancing girl and crumpled her fragile body…
The woods were thick and obscured the field before you. The drooping branches and dense foliage prevents you from seeing anything more than 100 feet away. Add to that the dimming sunlight of the rapidly approaching evening and the visibility continues to drop. You know that a mist will soon begin to rise. The muggy heavy air, just after sun down will form swirling mists and banks of fog. When that happens you know you will not be able to see anything past 15 feet, but yet you have to press on.
What is waiting for you in these dark woods? Where is it? Is their danger? All these questions blend together to a chaotic pronouncement of fear.
The walk seems indefinite, but somehow with each step much more foreboding. The thin gossamer stands of moonlight filtering through the canopy cast a bizarre pattern of dots upon the forest floor. Where the light strikes water the tendrils of illumination dance and play upon the ground. This image is nearly serene until the mists begin to rise.
The fog slips between trees and gives form to the light beams. The mists play flowing by and through the forest gives these moonbeams near substance and perverse form. They diffuse the light almost like a natural lantern, slowly pulsing as the breeze pushes the fogs around the trees. It is then you see them, three figures among the trees. Each fills you with a sense of doom.
The first is a grotesquely tall and thin man. He is wearing a dark suit and broad brimmed hat. His skin is pale and his eyes are powerful points of amber light. In his left hand, he is carrying a leather attaché case and in his right hand, a wooden yardstick. He simply stands among the trees silently mouthing words to some imperceptible lecture. The second figure is that of a giant tin solder. This gigantic child toy is roughly painted in the colors of the British army. The metal man is armed with a musket and wears a large bedroll on its back. The third figure is a naked girl. She is light skinned and delicate in both form and feature. Her long flowing brown hair seems to flow and dance beyond what can be explained by the mild breeze. She stands upon the forest floor, but looks as if she could simply float away. With cat-like grace she dances within the forest.
Your musket is readied and aimed downrange before you even think about the possibility of firing. Looking along the sights you could easily dispatch any one of the figures…Placing the iron sights directly in-line with the head of the tall man in the suit, you fire. The bullet races to the gangly man and strikes him fully in the mouth. The shot tears into his flesh and pulps his face, but somehow he is not harmed. He simply keeps on presenting his lecture, adding the lack of a mouth to the noiseless speech…
You wake in fear, cold and dire beads of sweat flowing down your body.
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