Please understand I am not what you want.
‘What is a dream’ they ask of you. What is it that your heart desires?
And you imagine me.

The air in the shop was fragrant and warm, a stark comparison to the bitter cold and pungency of the alley outside. Rows of pretty tarts and manicured mini cakes lined the front window, glowing in the murky morning light and drawing wanderers towards the bakery. Rhonda worked behind the counter, hair pulled away from her face haphazardly, buzzing around the bakery. Her left arm was covered in bracelets, beads made of glass and plastic and clay and metal jingling against one another to create a unique melody that followed her everywhere. Rhonda greeted the customers swiftly, her sweet, mischievous voice complemented by the glint of wry wit that sparkled in her dark eyes.

Rattle, Bump, Thump
My head clunks against layered glass
Double panes reflect a stranger
She looks a lot like the past

There are pills under my nightstand.
The same ones tearing holes all over the house.
They’re tucked away in darkness and dust, forgotten caverns that only I can enter.
The same ones that wake us at night.

I hear the souls,
They never leave,
When I close my eyes,
They are in my dreams,
I see them watching over me,
Every night,
Waiting for me,
To take my final flight.

Peaceful lazy flakes
Silently land on my cheek
Cold. Then, cold again

It should have been a pleasant sunset before the eve of the Forefathers. The young Trev had become a man now, bringing to the village a large boar. They were to celebrate the escape from the horrible Eledin, The Blacklights. A hundred years had passed since that day, during which the tribe had battled greenskins, monsters and even other tribes to survive.