#DreamsOfTwelfthtide, page 20/x

Dream 7
The Night of the Spirits (fantasy fiction, 2/2)

...
“We gather to look at the world as it is.

And then, we go back to our slumber.

For we were the world as it was.”

I watch them pass by and somehow, I understand that I cannot go where they are going. 

Suddenly one of the ghosts stops in front of me and seems to look at me. Just the same, I watch it closely. It's green and hollow. Like a woven surface of green light for its form. Suddenly, it addresses me, 

“You need to know that the trees are thin hollow creatures of a fine woven net. What you see during day is mostly construction. The translucent green part that is alive exists between bark and wood. That's what a tree is.” 

And as the ghost says that, all the trees start to glow green like the ghosts wandering among them, showing the gracious green hull they are. Surprised, I raise my brows and think, 

“Yes, that's how they are!”

End

(continued with dream 8)

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pic by #midjourney4

#DreamsOfTwelfthtide, page 19/x

Dream 7
The Night of the Spirits (fantasy fiction, 1/2)

“It is tonight that we rise. 

For once in the year, 

we wake and we walk.

To remind that we were. 

That we always have been.”

The voices of the many echo in my head as I lift myself up in the middle of the forest in a pitch-black night. 

Around me spheric green lights rise from the grounds like ghosts from ancient existences. Each of them seems to have been a creature on this earth. It's hard to tell which. Human? Animal? Insect? I just can't tell. They are all just entities who once roamed this land. 

They rise and form a procession as if they are going somewhere. 

...(continued)

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pic by #midjourney4

@MKMartin

Hello, I do even provide finished free stories to read on #Mastodon (just click tags):

#TheMagician (fantasy)
#TheDecision (scifi)
#DreamsofTwelfthtide (fic, scifi, steampunk)

#DreamsOfTwelfthtide, page 19/x

Dream 6
Orca (steampunk fiction, 3/3)

The animal is somehow able to hear that and instantly starts to hustle. And the person on the other side of this damned communicator stresses, “Go, go, go, you do it!”

Click. I turn him off, take a deep breath and silently condemn that fellow who tried to put us under pressure.

“Hush. Take it slow. Ignore him. Just think of the 1,…2,…3,…4. Today we make it in a relaxed way. Forget about the race. Just 1,…2,…3,…4.”

The orca calms down again. We both start again to enjoy the travel. Him, there in the waters. Me, up there in my strange device. The landscape is just too beautiful to have it spoiled. 

But in the end the goal comes around. We hear the cheering, we endure congratulations. And at the end, I receive the prize money. 

When all the fuss is gone, I look at my account. It's enough to provide the tame orca a permanent residence at a wonderful natural resort far off from any competitions. 

He's got a life to live, you know. 

End

(continued with dream 7)

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#DreamsOfTwelfthtide, page 17/x

Dream 6
Orca (steampunk fiction, 2/3)

I have no interest in winning as I do not love such races. Therefore, the orca and I take it slow after the starting ssigna. The animal seems nervous, trained to perform until exhaustion. 

“Slow down. Today we need not to win. Just enjoy the swim. Count slowly until the next push. 1,…2,…3,…4. Right, that's it. 1,…2,…3,…4.” 

It takes the orca a while to cool down but then it swims quite regularly at a relaxed pace. 

Meanwhile I struggle with my propeller engine. It's quite a stubborn steam stuff, difficult to handle. The trees in the forest get denser, that thing is not equipped to gain more height than the tree’s tips, and so, I have to maneuver it between the trunks. 

Then it happens. I scratch one of the trees and go rotatingly down, making an uneasy landing. 

It could be worse. With a few adjustments I manage to get the device airborne again after 5 minutes. Meanwhile my orca waited for me and slowly gains speed after it noticed that I am on the move again. 

Suddenly a crackling noise comes in from my communications device. “Are you okay there? We got a footage about a crash!”

I push the button to answer. “I am okay, back in air already.”

“You’d better be! Your orca is winning! You've got a good one! Come on, hurry! Or you lose your ranking!”

...(continued)

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#DreamsOfTwelfthtide, page 16/x

Dream 6 (steampunk fiction, 1/3)

I am not a fan of animal competitions concerted by humans. So, it comes as a surprise to me that I find myself navigating an orca in a swimming race. By a telepathic link the human ‘jockey’ is somehow connected to the animal and demands its performance. 

The competition is set in a wonderful landscape of lush meadows and generous forests thriving in the golden sunlight of the day. Salt water canals carve through this land like a parkour maze along which the racing route is set. Us jockeys need to follow our orcas by flying a small propeller steam engine, for our telepathic link only works over a limited distance. 

Each orca has its own water canal route to manage, and therefore the animal and I are quite on our own without knowing what the others are about. Cameras on trees and video drones broadcast our course to an international audience. 

...(continued)

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#DreamsOfTwelfthtide, page 15/x

Dream 5

University of Spoons (fiction, part 3/3)

As I trot from the workshop hall to the next destination, I suddenly wonder which kind of study I have actually signed in. Honestly, I have no idea. It all seems so familiar and then it is not. What am I learning here? 

Finally, I arrive at the garden where my next instructor and professor explains with a loud and serious voice, “Everybody needs to listen closely! Today we will check out the most poisonous plants in these regions. You must memorize them well!”

Side-eyeing another student next to me, I pat him on his shoulder for attention and whisper. “Psst! Excuse me, can you tell me for which study this course is running?”

Still focusing on the teacher in front of us, he answers, “Why? This whole university campus has just one subject: Civilization skills for survival.”

End

(continued with Dream 6)

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#DreamsOfTwelfthtide, page 14/x

Dream 5

University of Spoons (fiction, part 2/3)

...“Yeah, that can happen. The doors are always open, you know.”

And then he leaves me alone in my bewilderment. 

I take care to place my less valuable stuff on my bed and get ready to attend the first courses of the day.

The workshop hall is cramped full with various materials for models, wooden constructions and other weird stuff created probably by the students. In the center a huge assembly of desks and stools provides working spaces, and somehow, I recognize my study group at one corner there. It's a small group and the instructor explains to me that we do spoons today. She hands me a piece of wood and some carving knives. 

“Just carve the spoons you need for yourself. Spoons for soup, for dessert, and you might want to make two kinds of ladles.  A flat one and one that can really take lots of liquid.” 

Eagerly, I start carving and indeed, it works out fine. Soon, I make a flat ladle and a spoon for soup. The rest, I will have to do next time. 

...(continued)

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#DreamsOfTwelfthtide, page 13/x

Dream 5

University of Spoons (fiction, part 1/3)

It's a vast and flat countryside with fields, forests and small villages. Few people live here. But the huge university campus right in there contradicts this notion of the land. Yet, it tries to fit in. With simple buildings that are at best two levels high. 

I signed in for a particular study here and as this place is far off from any cities, I need to reside in the dormitory halls like anybody else. 

So, when I arrive there, one of the older students shows me the dorm rooms and guides me to my bed. “This is yours. As you can see, there are several vacant beds but I recommend you the one that is closer to the others.” 

“Yes, really? I prefer the privacy.” 

He shrugs. “Yeah, we all do, but here the conditions are different. You need to get organized with the others because sometimes there are raids in the night.”

“Raids!?”

...(continued)

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#DreamsOfTwelfthtide, page 12/x

Dream 4
New Priest (science fiction, part 3/3)

...Enthusiastically, it rolls forward, turns its head with a big smile and says, “Hello! I am the new priest! How are you doing?” I smile back while the robot keeps on driving towards its designated place.

Behind it, people slowly follow, complaining loud and sound why we got a machine now.

##

I wake up, it’s 6 o'clock in the morning. The wholesome bells of the church echo relentlessly through my village. I groan. There is no robot priest. We live in the now of no robots yet. But there is no human priest either. Suddenly, I realize:

The bells are moved by an automat!

It goes:

Rrrrrt, rrrrrrt, rrrrt,

*click*

DING

*click*

DONG

*click*

….

End

(continued with Dream 5)

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#DreamsOfTwelfthtide, page 11/x

Dream 4
New Priest (science fiction, part2/3)

...So, the village is waiting. And the longer it takes the more some become aware how insignificant we are.

But one day, the news spread. “We get a new priest! He is coming!” My friend tells me that the priest plans to come by the local bus. As we have only one bus stop and two dates per day, it is not too difficult to estimate when he will arrive.

So, I walk down the street, a bit late maybe but he won't run away so quickly for he probably needs to greet all the people waiting at the bus stop to see him. From the distance I already notice how the crowd dissolves and something strange comes into my direction at the other side of the street rolling on the pavement. I stop and stare at it. 

...(continued)

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#DreamsOfTwelfthtide, page 10/x

Dream 4

New Priest (science fiction, part1/3)

I live in a small picturesque village in the countryside. Here, each village has its tiny church and with its church there comes the local Roman Catholic priest, the central person for community feelings and social gatherings. 

Our former priest moved away and so, his place became vacant for a new one. But nobody comes. The mayor sent a letter to church but there was only the answer that they are working on it. Church has a shortage on personnel. First, they invited priests from Poland to take the vacant seats. And they did. And now, not even priests from Poland want to come. 

I am not part of the church and therefore I am never obliged to go to the services. Yet, I was friendly to the priest and I also had the patience to listen to his broken words in my language. I think he was sad that I was a heathen to his paradigm. Well, and now he is gone after struggling in vain to find acceptance here. Because particularly, the old group of hunters was not to thrilled about his Polish accent. They never can be convinced, no matter how friendly one is. 

...(continued)

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#DreamsOfTwelfthtide, page 9/x

Dream 3

Coal Ship (steampunk fiction, part3/3)

Suddenly I realize that I have no choice but need to escape into the land. I will be completely lost there! But there is no alternative. 

Running, jumping, running and then hiding offside in the land. From the distance I see how the ship gets set into position and released to the rest of the water canal for continuing its journey. 

I look at it for a while until it vanishes into the corners of the canal. Strange, suddenly there is no noise anymore. No constant pumping and hissing of the machine. Stillness. Only a few chirps by birds. 

Somehow, I realize that the land is not bad at all. It's all calm. Why was I so afraid?

Slowly turning around, I spot a farmhouse half a mile away. Okay, … it will be okay. I just go there and tell them that I can work all day long. In this fresh air. In this wonderful stillness. 

They will welcome that. 

End

(continued with Dream 4)

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#DreamsOfTwelfthtide, page 8/x

Dream 3
Coal Ship (steampunk fiction, part2/3)

...I think my life is lousy. Shoveling the coal each day is horrible. It makes my skin look grey, the ship’s surface is grey and the water bears the same lame color. The concrete walls of the canal are not different, except for the land. The land, it has this menacing green. I think this green can be dangerous. I have no idea how to deal with it.

So, I remain on the ship.

But one day I overdid it. Slept too long and skipped my shift for the coal. The others are already looking for me. The punishment for missing a task is incredibly exhausting and I cannot take it no more.

Slowly, the ship is rising again within one watergate. Water gurgles from the sides into the basin where the vessel rests. I hide in a doorway of a gallery, hoping that the others don't find me. What shall I do?

...(continued)

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#DreamsOfTwelfthtide, page 7/x

Dream 3

Coal Ship (steampunk fiction, part1/3)

The water of the canal is always grey. Forced into its straight boundaries of concrete, it streams through the whole country, miles and miles of grey fuzzy water pushing forward. 

Our ship is one of many. Sturdy. Barely narrower than the water canal itself, it works its path along the tight stream, relentlessly abiding to the demands of industry to deliver the goods on time. About 60 people must operate this vessel, each of them assigned to the tasks which should never be missed. Shoveling the coal, administering the machine, handling the goods, scrubbing the floor, helping in the kitchen. That's all that I have to do each day, there never is a pause. 

Only when we are shifting through a watergate, there are some moments left when I can gaze into the countryside. It's green, lush, and a few farm houses. Huge trees shade the canal, making the world small. I have no idea how it is out there. I have always been on the ship. 

...(continued)

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#DreamsOfTwelfthtide, page 6/x

Dream 2: 
Little Critter (scifi, part 3/3)

...This sign of awareness by the tiny creature somehow makes me unfreeze and I start to think. “Should I risk my life for this rodent?” 

But there is not much time for considering. Instantly I jump over to fetch Little Critter and make a run for it. The robot snake furiously pursues me and the new mayor spews hateful commands to make me stop. 

I run down the stairs, I jump over balustrades, run out into the street and disappear in the cold snowy night. 

I survived, and I got Little Critter. With it, I will be able to convince people to make a stand. Without it, this cause would have become difficult. 

First, I am proud for having risked my life… but then I suddenly wonder:

Why have we ever needed a mascot to worship? Haven't we been a democracy all along? 

End

(continued with Dream 3)

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#DreamsOfTwelfthtide, page 5/x

Dream 2: 
Little Critter (scifi, part 2/3)

...There is a loud bang, a tumult, and suddenly a woman walks onto the podium of the speaker’s corner and announces. “I am now in charge of the village. The mayor is no more. I am the new mayor! You all will obey to my decisions!”

Startled, we try to understand what is going on while she turns to something behind her and continues announcing. “And for making sure you know what I am saying, I will kill this damned critter.” 

With these words said, a huge robot snake appears behind her, standing up high with its front body and aiming at Little Critter with its canon mouth. 

Totally paralyzed everybody stares at the snake and then at Little Critter. Little Critter seems to understand that its life is at stake and starts to panic. 

...(continued)

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#DreamsOfTwelfthtide, page 4/x

Dream 2: 
Little Critter (scifi, part 1/3)

I live in an enclosed Scandinavian village surrounded by a white icy winter landscape, cut off from other civilizations during the dark season of the long night. We have a beautiful community here, friendly and well organized with a common and huge leisure center where we meet regularly to play games or to hold meetings. It's also the place where municipal announcements are done. There, in the center, we have Little Critter. It's a tiny cyborg rabbit which we worship (for fun). Moreover, it's our mascot. We say it is in charge for all the good things that happen in the community but we know in truth it's our human mayor whom we elected on a democratic basis. He does his job well. 

So, one day, as we play at the community center again and Little Critter is among us munching its carrot, something irritating happens. ...

(continued)

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Dream 1: 
Yellow and White (fiction, part 2/2)

...

He readily mentions his own choice. “I love the green metallic that turns into blue when tilting.” 

That's really a remarkable color but I come to the conclusion that only a bright shining yellow may fit to the white glass as a tint on some construction parts. 

He agrees instantly and I am glad he likes my proposition. 

Leaving the shopping center, I have the impression that I did something significant. I chose the brand color of the new center. 

But as I walk down the stairs of the entrance, I notice that the handrail and a glass façade close to the planned facilities already have this color. It's a bit darker yellow but still similar. 

Was I in charge up there or did the manager just delude me in feeling important? 

Am I, -a rich person-, truly in charge? 

Or is it the common people who stir us secretly? 

End

(... continued with Dream 2)

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#DreamsOfTwelfthtide, page2/x

Dream 1: 

Yellow and White (fiction, part 1/2)

We are extremely rich. Too rich. For example, my friend broke her leg and for physical rehab she gets into a sauna and wellness sanatorium. 

I accompany her but her exclusive relaxation program is keeping her so busy that I need to occupy myself. Attached to the sanatorium there is a huge shopping center. Bored, I try some clothes which bear no price tags. Then, at the grand wardrobe area that rather resembles a café, the assigned manager of the center sweetly offers me some tea and shows me their expansion plans. He places a model of the planned facilities on the table. It's beautiful. Made of white shaded glass. Later, in reality, the expansion should be mostly glass architecture as well. 

Then, the manager places a box next to the model which contains lots of tiny color samples for the glass. He takes this palette out of the box and asks me to make a color proposition to him as they dearly honor my design expertise. 

...(continued)

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