Excerpts from the Sleepless Cycle - Train

I was telling her something.

But then I turned my head to look at her, and I realized, I wasn't. I just imagined I did.

I then went to open my mouth to tell her what I wanted, but I couldn't remember what it was.

How did I get here? Is this even real? Is she sitting right beside me, or is her bewitching perfume the longing of a distant memory?

I am now alone, in the middle of the rails.

Waiting to catch the last train.

There is no light at the end of the tunnel.

There is just more tunnel.

Queendom Come

A clock begun to tick.

And I charged into the battlefield.

Leaping feet, sword in hand and a silent battle cry filling my mind with blasting rage.

I saw her coming from the other side. Shinning white armor, determined stride, face painted death.

Overtaken by a terrible ecstasy, my eyes blazed with glorious hatred, my arms transformed into weapons of justice. The command had been given. The enemy was in sight. First blood was about to be drawn.

But then, she stopped. Right in the middle of the battlefield, she stopped. Idly staring at me, staring at her own demise.

Pagan

There was a time not long ago, when man believed.

When morals were held in hand alongside faith, and people were content to surrender to powers beyond their mortal capability, for a divine favor.

And life is always harsh.

The people of the village of Onslo knew it well.

Stuck like a limpet on a sea rock, the village rooted against a steep slope, close to the highest peaks of Mount Vunio.

On its feet, the thick cloud blanket kept the village away from an old, forgotten world beneath. The Cloud Gods were not remembered fondly, or hatefully there. In such a place their names were nothing more than a distant memory.

Someone else's tale.

But for the people of Onslo, the giants carried a relentless winter on their backs. And spring, was something that had to be earned, by blood and sweat and sacrifice.

So the people of Onslo believed.

Handker Chief

I hate it in here.

It's dark and wet. I'm wet.

I'm accompanied by things unworthy of my great heritage. The crumbled candy wrap, the coins of petty value, the surrounding lint and hair. A key amongst sesame seeds. Has this pocket ever been emptied?

Why did I end up here? I thought I deserved the world.

Because I haven't always been a napkin. No. I was made for more. I used to be proud and brave and ruthless. Once, I was a flag.