…of Dark Moon.The second entry in the Dream Series, the form of which follows Dale’s “spontaneous narrative” approach. Also the third entry for Alicia Chenaux’s annual “Big Bad Blogger Challenge.”
” How does it taste?” asked a small voice that wafted up into the air from exactly where, Dawn wondered. Her eyes widened to take in more light because suddenly the light had shifted and was less blaring in its concealment of the previous velvety night. Less blaring but still illuminating no additional clarity on the matter of how Dawn had come to be — asleep was it? knocked out? simply unconsciously floating was it? but utterly unharmed? — there in this massive body of water on this lovely — yet secret ? or undiscovered ? or exclusive could it be ? — beach.
“How does ‘what’ taste?” the voice interrupted its own line of questioning and asked in a lilt that could only be produced when vowels and consonants are pushed out through a smile. “Is that what you’re about to ask?”
Dawn craned her neck to give her eyes room to breathe, and they did, quite expansively actually, along the far edge of the looping reeds. Exactly where… her mind drummed as she pursued what she thought to be the direction of the small voice until – yes…just on the other end of the tall grasses.
“Possibly,” Dawn replied with some curiosity. She wandered gingerly along the reeds, fanning them lightly under the touch of her fingertips, swishing her feet and her gown in the water that lapped around her ankles, draping them in undulating pools that reflected the dazzling orange sky. When she reached the outermost edge of the grasses, Dawn stopped and stared, looking carefully upon the back of a glistening, leafy form with magnificent, radiant wings that was seated curled in on itself on the ground. The form sang a soft melody to the earth and the sea and the sky, and the voice belonged to a fairy…or as near as Dawn could tell because up until now Dawn hadn’t met one in person. But she had seen illustrations and paintings, and the ironic thing was this particular fairy looked nearly exactly like one that was on her calendar in her kitchen…which suddenly seemed to Dawn to be very far away other than when she looked up (which was often) at the penetrating orange sky. Because when she looked into the sky, Dawn began to feel very hungry (and happy because orange can do that), which had the odd effect of making her kitchen seem to be just around the grasses.
Dawn shook her head as if to sway it into reason, while wondering if she might have suffered an injury of some sorts. Her thoughts were strange and the sky was just such a delicious color (she wanted to eat the sky) that she had never seen before. But she had seen this fairy before…of that she was certain, even if everything else seemed like a dream — so she set her mind away from the thought of food and concentrated instead on the where of it all (not to be confused with the wherewithall) when suddenly she mouthed “June”…the month on which the creature was, well, featured on Dawn’s calendar that hung on the side of her refrigerator in her kitchen.
“How did the — idea, was it? on the tip of your tongue? — taste,” June the fairy asked more directly this time. Her wings glowed with their points of light reverberating through the air. “Or would you say it was more of a hint of an idea? Just lightly seasoned?”
Dawn paused. She suddenly felt as if she may have fallen through a looking glass, which was concealed entirely and very cleverly by the sea. The fairy smiled, Dawn could tell. The points of light in her wings twinkled. She must have felt some kind of kinship of some sort or other with Alice in Wonderland, Dawn decided, then said, “I’d say it tasted more like sherbert…like an orange sherbert…like this mouthwatering orange sherbert that’s begging for a spoon to be dipped into it…or a team of kids on bicycles to fly across it in a grand swoop of an arc, gathering as much of the sherbert into their baseball mitts and pockets and sprockets along the way as they could.”
June the Fairy hovered a bit, her wings thrilling the air into tiny earthquakes. She beamed across the reeds and the looking glass sea. She radiated up and out into the clear orange sky. She sang a soft melody to them all…one Dawn couldn’t quite detect…and then whispered, “I’d say that would taste more like Wondrousness. Far more like Wondrousness than like orange sherbert.”
Note: I’m using the last six photos that I uploaded to flickr as the basis for this dream series, and using them in the order of upload. All photos were taken at the elven-themed sims Dark Moon and Angelgate