literature

Those Kind of Dreams

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KriegsaffeNo9's avatar
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Literature Text

"Blegh.  Terrible dream last night."  Alec finished his coffee and tossed the cup at the trash, missing completely.

"What kind?" said Emma, watching the cup skid into the road, just into the crosswalk.

"I dreamed I died."

"Oh... you did?"  She crossed her fingers.  Please, please...

"Yeah.  Totally sucked.  You ever dream like that?"  He walked over to the cup.

"I... I do," she said.  Come on.  Just this once...  "I mean, I have.  Dreams like those."

"Hm..."  He dropped the cup into the trash.  "So.  How do you die?"  And he seizes up, and stumbles, and she catches him, though it knocks her down to one knee; he's much larger than her.

She can feel his heartbeat.  It beats like a piston, once, twice.  No more.  Too late.  Of course.

"I don't dream about my own ," she says.  Too late.  Always too late.
Eh, little idea...
© 2008 - 2024 KriegsaffeNo9
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CommodoreZeke's avatar
Could one say, then, that predicting deaths is her tru calling?

A bit of constructive criticism: Less isn't always more. I didn't realize what you really meant by this one at all till I read one of your comment replies. I figured that Emma was just hoping Alec would die, and this is why she crossed her fingers. (It seemed your style.) One of the things I like about your writing is the way you get right into it and let the reader fill in the blanks, but it's possible to overdo that.