Interlude – Charlie Bear

I’m back from France, and it was quite enjoyable, if a little cold.

I was going to get straight back into the swing of things with a new OYGYDTOTL piece, but France presented me with some absolutely brilliant dreams that I just had to turn into a story.  This is the first one, not sure if I’ll do the second one or not.  As with my other dream stories, this has been lightly edited so that you don’t need to use dream-logic to understand it, but is almost exactly what happened in my dream.

Enjoy!

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Dreamtime – The Men in Black Hoods (Part 1)

Been a while since I’ve had a dream worth writing down, but I had a proper awesome one last night that I thought I’d share with you all.  As usual with my dream stories, this is more or less what happened.  Naturally, some details are fuzzy so I’ve had to fill in the gaps with some good old fashioned made-up stuff, but there we go.

Also, it’s worth noting that despite this dream being in the first person the narrator is also a woman.  Make of that what you will, Freudians.

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House Hunting – 2

‘Would you like to see the kitchen?’ The slimy estate-cretin asked happily.

James nodded slowly, although a deep feeling of trepidation was starting to well in the pit of his stomach. The estate-cretin had already proved himself to be an utter bastard with the ‘burglar alarm’ incident, and seeing how happy he was when he made the suggestion James was not hopeful.

It was his own fault really. At 22 he was already 10 years behind on the property ladder, having neglected to get on the first rung at 12 because of a misguided trust in his parents and their vast fortune. He didn’t have that fortune now. In fact now all he could afford was this decrepit hovel, the ‘tour’ the estate-cretin was giving him was merely a formality. He’d been kicked out of his parents’ house when they died, the government had decided to finish the job, and finally enact the redistribution policy they’d been threatening for years.

The estate-cretin calmly led James into the kitchen, and immediately he wanted to be sick. The kitchen was hideous. It was built almost entirely out of, distinctly unfriendly, iron sheets and badly cut girders. It looked more like a slaughterhouse than a kitchen, a description made all the more potent by the dried blood that littered the room. The blood was so widespread that it took James a few moments to realise it wasn’t paint.

‘I’m not going to lie to you, it needs a bit of work.’ The estate-cretin spat sarcastically. At that moment James punched him.

House Hunting – 1

The estate agent opened the door and politely pushed James into the house. It was an interesting mix of modern decor and rustic charm, it had a TV and extensive mould covering the flaky, cracked walls. James had expected this, of course, it was the only reason he could think of as to why this house was so cheap. He gave the room a quick once over and turned to the estate agent.

“It’s very nice,” he said, barely hiding that he was lying, “But what’s that thing?”

James pointed at a rusted computer monitor mounted on the wall, partially obscured by a termite ridden wooden door then led into the kitchen. The estate agent strode across the room, slammed the rotten door (splintering it in the process), and studied the device.

“Ah yes,” he tapped at some buttons, “This is your ‘burglar alarm’.”

He punctuated the words “burglar alarm” with the finger quotes, which instantly aggravated James.

“It doesn’t look much cop. How can I be sure it even works?” James asked, trying hard to hide his growing dislike for the annoying little man that was trying to sell him a glorified rat’s nest.

The estate agent didn’t respond, he just tapped away at a few more buttons. There was a loud creaking noise and a section of the ceiling cracked to pieces and fell to the floor. Out of the resulting hole descended a large, heavily rusted, spider-like device. It scuttled along the ceiling towards James and settled a few feet away. It began to unfurl, its motion clearly slowed by the heavy rust, and drilled itself into the ceiling. Once it was in place its body opened up and two rotary cannons emerged, pointing at James. They began to rev up.

James let out a yell and leapt for the nearest doorway in an attempt to find cover. The guns began clicking aggressively at him. They weren’t loaded. James poked his head out from behind the doorway and glared angrily at the estate agent.

The estate agent smiled back, “Just imagine what it would do to a burglar, eh?”

“You… utter… bastard!”