Website update and prompt

I posted some of my shorts/prompts on the website. And the revised chapter 1 is now on there.

Beginning of a prompt... more to come later.

My body wouldn’t wake up. I knew it must, for it was dangerous to die in a dream. Yet, here I did, multiple times, seemingly without repercussions. Perhaps it was because I had no control of the dream, not even subconsciously.

Whether above or below controlled the dream, I don’t know. Either it is in preparation for the future, or torment of the present, and past. This is a recurring dream. Regardless of who is in the driver seat, the outcome was the same. I was afraid of the devil, for he knew my name.

I think it was his unassuming nature. Everyone else saw him as a mild-mannered, charismatic man. I saw a tall, menacing figure in a purple suit, nothing unassuming about that. Most people saw what I call, the serial killer image of him. I saw the man behind the mask, if the word man can even be used to describe him.

No one else seemed to notice the waves outside the ship were on a loop. They weren’t real. They repeated themselves every two minutes, as did the seagull’s music. What got me the most, though, were the people. Not everyone was real. I’d walk around the deck of the ship, that my father so graciously uprooted his family to be on, and have to maneuver around groups of paper cut outs. Voices were muffled, simulating many people speaking at once. For all I know, the track could’ve been a colony of birds just placed over the groups of paper cut out people.

My parents would walk by the groups, gently nodding and smiling at each one. In fact, my father even attempted to strike up a conversation with one portly looking gentleman. I wanted to state the obvious, that my father was talking to a large cardboard figure and shouldn’t expect it to be very conversational, when my father began his side of a two sided conversation. It appeared the cutout was talking back, not that I heard it.

I suppose the thought of me being insane should’ve crossed my mind. How could I be the only one who saw these things? Hell, even my dog didn’t seem to mind the devil. Surely, that meant something. Animals are more attuned to these kinds of things aren’t they? They should be howling, or trying to break out of their cages. But no, my dog decided its favorite spot was going to be on the devil’s lap. It may have been fitting if he were a hound of some sort. But no, my dog was a Bichon Frese, a small fluffy white dog, who loved the devil.


And now for a sexy Scottish accent and a big gay cat.