Good Morning, Sarabia...

                Damien spun into consciousness with a pounding in his head.  Instinctively, his fingers rubbed his temples until the pressure in his head released.  After he regained his senses, he realized that there was no light.  Not a moon, not stars, not anything.  This was clearly was not...  Where was he supposed to be?  Arizona.  He must have still been dreaming, considering he couldn't discern exactly where he was.  That's what happened in dreams:  Things were blurry and unclear, yet vivid and beautiful. 

                He did wish this one was a little more interesting.

                Tentatively, he felt his way around the dark landscape, and discovered that he was in a room.  The floors were unsanded and wooden, yet smooth as though its splinters had been wore down by many years of intense use.  After a minute, he came into contact with a thick wooden wall.  He felt along it until he found a softer material that he recognized as some sort of cloth.

                Damien ripped off the cloth and came face to face with a window.  Through the solid sheet of glass, men and women wearing tunics and potato sack skirts walked past him, some holding lanterns to illuminate night's darkened streets.  One man in particular wore a suit of armor and had a long polearm that he wielded menacingly.

                He yawned and turned back to the room, which was now dimly lit by streetlight.  On the floor lay two individuals that he recognized.  He called out their names.  "Alex, Tim, get up."

                The girl stirred first, rubbing her eyes and feeling for her glasses.  She found them, put them on, and looked puzzled.  "That's weird."  She said.

                "Tell me about it."  Damien stood back and motioned to the people walking by.  "It's like we woke up at the Renaissance fair."

                "I wasn't talking about that."  She said, combing back her long, blonde hair with one hand, and taking off her glasses with the other.  "My vision is blurrier with these on.  I think I may need a new prescription.  But now that you mention it..."  Alex stood up, walked over to the window, and looked out curiously.  "That is strange."

                Tim walked up behind the two.  He was shorter, skinny, and had combed back brown hair.  He ignored them and stepped up to the window.  "Are we dreaming?"

                Damien shrugged.  "I don't know, but we're not in Arizona anymore."

                Alex held her chin in her hand, almost comically stroking it.  "Is that where we were?"

                "I think so.  That's what came to mind.  What was that city?"

                "Albequerque."  Tim popped himself on the forehead once.  "Damien, right?  Why am I not remembering anything else?"

The End

6 comments about this story Feed