Night Meeting

A wooden canoe floats on black water. Stolen from its area of storage, it drifts now in a lake, surrounded by 200 ft pine trees and swapmy shores. There is a hint of cooler days to come, but now, the night air is warm and still, not a ripple laps the wooden sides.
A young woman, perhaps 20 years old stands in the vessel, an ivory dress clings to her body. It drapes over her curves, covering her legs and arms completely, just the white of her chest is exposed, her heavy breathing accentuating the smoothness of her skin and roundness of her breasts.
She gazes at the black bearded sorcerer who stands waist deep in the water, just a couple feet from her. Returning her gaze, they are perfectly still. A soft glow of sparkling gold emanates the space around them.
There is no fear of this darkness, the night is theirs alone.

Ancient Trees

Their bodies are gnarled and gray. Spanning out like the fingers of an outstretched hand their branches hold up crowns of fiery orange leaves while their roots, in some instances, surface above ground like breached whales.
The dank earth is obscured by a blanket of titian mirroring the canopy above. The color is startling and vivid, lending life to the ancient trees pocketed with dark cavities like open mouths filled with gauzy spiders webs.
A perfect morning light filters down through the florid plafond, caressing every bough, sparkling off of every arachnid spun thread, conspiring with these elements to perfect beauty, inspire awe, and make hearts peaceful. An assembly of monarch butterflies flutters delicately near a spiders meandering gossamer weave. It is positioned loftily between two high branches, one of which is bent like a crooked elbow. On another gray limb two brown squirrels play, barely visible behind the whitish veil of cobwebs.
The hush about the place in miraculously undisturbed by the creatures dwelling here. Their movements only feed the quiet with their rustle. Everything is drawn in like a stilled breath.

Dragon

There is flutter and fury within the grand stone banquet hall. People in shabby wool clothes anxiously wait, filling the second floor interior balcony- the ledge stretches the entire length of the stone room. On the main floor below, there are peasants holding torches, providing the light and casting dancing shadows upon the massive cold walls. In the center, filling the empty space is a blue dragon. Breathing fire and bearing a cross, he is a mile tall, easily reaching the ceiling, looking at those of us on the balcony at eye level. It is him that is calling the battle, calling the names of people and animals meant to fight- it is a battle for the universe, communicated both subtly and forcefully with his presence and fire.
I am on the balcony, the dragon is before us, he is calm, watching attentively. The carved stone railing that once prevented a fall from such a height has crumbled, nothing stands between us. There is a stainless steel table at the ledge, and upon it, a woman. My hands are gripped tightly around her neck, holding her forcefully to the metal surface. The dragon has made it known she is on the list of the "fighters". The realization comes as a shock, she thought she would be someone’s lover, this, perhaps sparing her from battle. Now, her body rocks and squirms, vibrating with pain while she is injected with powers meant to aid the fight. My hands tighten, gripping as she convulses, becoming bald. Her body soon evaporates, transformed into a flock of five bats, beating their wings furiously, they fly out of the grand room into the reddish black night.

The Outcasts

It is a creature too human-like to be anything but revolting for its differences.
Its saggy, baggy flesh droops from the chest and the area where it should have genitals. Worse, it is hairless but has a hideously long cap of flesh that dangles from the crown of the skull. This is much too long, like a nylon stocking made of skin and it makes me queasy to think of it incidentally flapping against me.
Totally naked, there is an embryonic quality to its presence, as if in an early stage of development its psychic as well as physical formation deviated from what we sapiens would consider completion.
There are others like it here and there. All are shunned by the nicely formed human machines that hurry to shop in the outdoor mall, their high heels clicking, painted faces turned from the abominations among them.
They seem cognizant, but in a way that is grossly different from myself and my kind, especially given the similarities.
They seem incapable of clear movement, and drift like timid bits of kelp on a tide, torn from the forests of the deep.
Making weird cooing noises as if it were imitating the sounds of birds, this one lingers around a fountain.
These sounds are not a language as we know it. It is consciousness riding in pure sound. Quelling my revulsion, I look into its eyes and begin to coo in response.

Theft at the Airport

I am in a crowded airport, in seems to be in an urban area, somewhere in the South. I am at the bottom of five stairwells and there are people, mostly black youth, going in all directions.

It is all very chaotic and I see a young man in a maroon jersey running up the stairs with my computer. I had left it on a podium, thinking my friend's would watch it, but never clearly communicating my need before i had stepped away to use the phone.
I stare helplessly as the boy is climbing to the top of the landing. I yell "stop that guy! he stole my computer!!" Some people reach out to grab him, both mechanically and unenthusiastically, barely slowing him down.
But he's stopped just enough that a small crowd of teenagers is able to descend upon him, slinging punches..they push him into the bathroom and retrieve the computer. When I suddenly find myself in the bathroom, I realize they haven'tbeat him to save my computer or to help me, they have stopped him because they want the computer for themselves. I hold the computer in my arms like a baby while begging them to let me make copies of my data before they take the computer forever.