Good morning all and welcome to Thursday. I hope everyone got a good night sleep and is ready to face the day. I had odd dreams last night. Each was different but standing off the the side in all my dreams was a man with a clipboard and pencil. He appeared to be rating my dreamscape. when ever I glanced over to him, he motioned me to continue and said “Carry on, I can’t see if they are up to snuff if you don’t put them through their paces.” So I think it was the dreams he was judging and not me. Very peculiar. Still dreams are their own thing. Shall we move on to writing prompts? I think that might be best as well.
I kind of like this one. it seems to go well with one that I wrote a month or so back as well. If the thought keeps reoccurring I may have to group the snippets together and see if they have one main plot.
Thursday, August 12th: The sky was crimson and gold.
The sky was crimson and gold. I stared at it drinking in the colors as though my eyes were starved for it. In a way they were. For the last six months I had seen little but the black, gray and white of the ship. Mixed in were a few metallic bits but other than the occasional blinking lights, the world held very little color. The green light was the most consistent, yellow only appearing when a minor fix was needed. Red of course we only got in the end.
I took a deep breath as though drawing in a big sip of color to bathe my innards in light and color and turned towards the others. Some were moving about in groups. Others appeared to be moving singly, like me. Those in uniform were clumped together. They were in two groups. One was studying the wreckage while the other group seemed to be having an intense conversation. They didn’t bother to talk to the rest of us. We were mere passengers. We were, as far as they were concerned, cargo. I wondered what would happen once the shock of the landing wore off. While those in uniform viewed us as cargo, there were those among the passengers who merely viewed them as transport. I suspected a clash for control was son to occur.
Personally I didn’t care who won out. I would of course feign interest in following whoever it was that ended up coming out on top. However I had no intention of becoming involved. I had left behind such interests when I boarded the ship and left my home planet. The fight for dominance could commence without me. I turned back to the sunset. Or what I thought was the sunset. For all I knew it could be the sunrise. I tried to decide it the world was getting brighter or darker.
“Do you think that counts as a red sky?” someone asked.
The voice came from my left elbow. I looked down. A small boy, his cheeks still stained with the tears caused by the terror of our impromptu landing stood next to me. His eyes flitted from the sky to my face and back to the sky again. Clearly the colors held more interest than I did.
“I think it might,” I replied. “Is it important?”
“I think it is supposed to do something for sailors,” he replied. “Seeing a red sky at night. I think it’s supposed to be good luck.”
“I see. Are you a sailor?”
He grinned and looked at me fully.”
“No but my grandpa was.”
“I see, and do you think this is night? I can’t tell if the sun is going down or coming up.”
The boy frowned and stared at the sky again. For a long moment the two of us watched it.
“Geral,” a woman’s voice called. It sounded as though she was approaching at haste. “Geral, there you are.” She stopped beside the boy. “You can’t go wandering off like that and…” Her eyes flicked to me.
“Your, Excellency, I’m…I’m sorry. I hope he wasn’t a bother.”
“No bother,” I assured her. “And excellently no more I’m afraid. Admittedly I’m not sure what I am to be called now.”
“Of course,” she said, half bowing as she dragged her errant offspring away.
Ten til Midnight 