Post by Amadi Dumisani on Oct 29, 2012 18:40:57 GMT -5
Most nights, Amadi knew better than to dream. Night was a time of rest, at least at the camp. It was when they could, with reasonable comfort, relax into their beds and allow their bodies and minds to recuperate in preparation for the next day. Growing up, Amadi had become quite adapt at catching sleep whenever, and wherever, he could. To the point that now all he had to do was close his eyes and with minimal effort if he wanted a nap he could do it. He was even rather adept at dictating how long he would sleep, provided he wasn't sick or too deprived of it. And of course, adept at making sure the only thing that happened between closing his eyes and opening them was just a brief flash of darkness between conscious states.
But some nights he had no choice but dreaming.
He was wandering the deserted town with his brother and his cousin. All three of them carried guns casually slung over their shoulders like some women wore purses. They were laughing-- Adisa was telling them about a girl from the last town and Amadi didn't quite understand what he was saying, but he was glad to be going with the men on this mission and didn't want them to change their minds. Isoba passed him the cantine and he took it gratefully, the sun beating down was taking it's toll and he had lost his only hat a few days ago. The liquid was warm, but still sweet against his dry tongue. But something was wrong, Amadi looked up at Adisa, and Adisa's head began to sprout holes. Blood splashed Amadi's face, covering the cantine and splashing on his lips and onto his tongue. His throat went dry. He tried to shout but the only sound that came out was --
The sound of his own screams woke him up. The pitch darkness that surrounded his bed only serving to confuse him more as he jumped out of bed. By the time his feet hit the floor, the boy remembered where he was. Taking a shaky breath, Amadi continued to get his bearings. His hair was plastered to his face and forehead, a sheen of sweat covered his body. He was okay, it was all okay. Or at least, it would be okay so long as none of the other Ares campers had woken up to his screams.
Muse: sick with the flu
Word Count: 405
Ama's outfit: click
But some nights he had no choice but dreaming.
He was wandering the deserted town with his brother and his cousin. All three of them carried guns casually slung over their shoulders like some women wore purses. They were laughing-- Adisa was telling them about a girl from the last town and Amadi didn't quite understand what he was saying, but he was glad to be going with the men on this mission and didn't want them to change their minds. Isoba passed him the cantine and he took it gratefully, the sun beating down was taking it's toll and he had lost his only hat a few days ago. The liquid was warm, but still sweet against his dry tongue. But something was wrong, Amadi looked up at Adisa, and Adisa's head began to sprout holes. Blood splashed Amadi's face, covering the cantine and splashing on his lips and onto his tongue. His throat went dry. He tried to shout but the only sound that came out was --
The sound of his own screams woke him up. The pitch darkness that surrounded his bed only serving to confuse him more as he jumped out of bed. By the time his feet hit the floor, the boy remembered where he was. Taking a shaky breath, Amadi continued to get his bearings. His hair was plastered to his face and forehead, a sheen of sweat covered his body. He was okay, it was all okay. Or at least, it would be okay so long as none of the other Ares campers had woken up to his screams.
Muse: sick with the flu
Word Count: 405
Ama's outfit: click