Dream Catching Up

Thanks for sharing Em! I loved the Flexiril dream, I hope you (or someone else!) puts some flesh on that one, it would make a great story.

You've done half the work - and you were asleep!

Hi... just for fun I started something (any thing to avoid writing what I am supposed to be writing! :redface.

I don't know what Em is short for (if short it is) but I have given the girl in the story the name Emily (it seems to fit with the piece, for me). I have given the brother the name Andy (taken from your surname).

It is a bit dark, so far. Sure it will liven up, when the circus arrives! What do you think?


Emily looked out through the windows, smeared with dirt and fingerprints. The view wasn't exactly enticing. But sometimes it helped to look. To remember there was something out there. Even if it was a “corpse motel”, as Andy called it.

The cemetery stretched out, below her. It seemed to go on forever. Brambles covered half broken gravestones. She'd never seen anyone lay flowers, never seen anyone even visit the graves.

Andy, when he was in one of his black moods, would sometimes push her face up against the glass.

“Don't think of ever leaving me, doll,” he would say. “'Cos that's where you'd be sleeping, six feet down, and just the worms for company. And don't think I'd come visit, neither.”

Emily didn't know what was on the other side of the house. The windows were boarded. There was a crack in one of the boards, but she had never tried to look through it. She wasn't allowed in those rooms: not alone, anyway. Andy never let her go outside. Sometimes she tried to imagine what was out there. But all she ever came up with was the graveyard. She'd asked Andy, once. When he was in a good mood.

“What's on the other side of the house, Andy?”

He had looked at her. For a full minute he stared at her. He didn't say a word, and he didn't move. She had begun to think she must have imagined asking him. Perhaps, she'd just thought it. And then he got up. He moved quickly. Emily felt the air leave her lungs, before she felt the pain of his fist in her stomach. Andy had turned away and left her, then.

He didn't often hit her. And never on the face. The clients didn't like it. A punch in the stomach left no bruise. Well, not unless you looked real hard.

Emily turned away from the window. On the bed were the clothes Andy had left her. Underwear, and a dress. No shoes. Some of the clients wanted her to wear heals, but Andy always shook his head.

“No shoes,” he'd say.

Thanks for the pointers. But your dream is my story now (that sounds more threatening than it should! Sorry!!). So it might not be quite as you dreamed it! But you, can always come up with an alternative. Will keep you updated on progress...

Here is the next part...

Emily removed her night robe and began to wash herself. Andy had brought the bowl of water and the soap, fifteen minutes ago. The water was cold, but not from the wait. It was always ice cold. She dried herself with the towel. It was rough. Andy said, “soft towels don't dry, they just move the water around”. She didn't mind: the friction helped warm her skin. She dressed quickly. She brushed her hair, and let it fall over her shoulders. She had no mirror, so the makeup would have to wait. Andy liked her to do that in the Work Room. He liked to watch. “I need to make sure you do it right,” he said.

Emily sat down on the bed and waited. Andy would come and fetch her when he was ready for her. He hadn't always been like this. Thinks had been different. She was certain of that. Although, she could not remember clearly. They had had parents once. Not long ago, and yet, at the same time, a lifetime ago. She could not remember them. Or what happened to them. There were no memories of them in this house. They had never been here, she was sure of that. They did not belong in this house.

Emily could not remember how long they had been in this house. Or, how long her brother had kept her a prisoner. She thought it may have been a few weeks, or maybe a month. She did remember the day he came to her with the first man.

“We need the money, doll,” he said. He stood in the doorway of her room. It was the last time he knocked before entering. She remembered thinking he was dressed strangely. Now, there was nothing unusual in him wearing a tight fitting suit, a skinny tie knotted at his throat, and a fedora on his head. But she was sure he hadn't worn anything like that before that day.

“It's time you contributed to the household, sweetheart. But you ain't qualified to do nothing. 'Cept this one thing.”

He had shown her to a room. She couldn't remember seeing it before, she certainly had never been inside. It was a large room, bigger than her room. At the other side of the room a large mirror hung on the wall. Underneath, was a sofa. A man, Emily had never seen before, sat there, a drink in his hand. He looked up as they entered. He smiled and nodded at Andy.

“Jeez,” he said. He whistled. “You wasn't joking, Andy. She's a good looking broad. Come over here, sugar lips.” He patted the cushion, next to him.

“I don't understand,” Emily said, looking at Andy.

He had made her understand. She cried herself to sleep, that night. And every night since.

There was a knock at her door. She perked up. It wasn't Andy: he would've walked right in. Which meant it had to be Jimmy, Andy's driver and bodyguard.

“Come in.”

“Good morning Miss Emily, how are you today? Andy's got a meeting. He told me to let you know you won't be needed 'til after lunch.”

Jimmy filled the doorway. He had a powerful upper torso. It was quite something to behold. The body of a bull, the heart of a lamb. He always treated her well. Respectfully, even. Last nights dream suddenly came to her. She was a matador. The stadium was crowded. She would see Andy looking down from one of the boxes. “You're gonna get what's coming to you, this time, doll!” she heard him call. And the the doors opened wide. Jimmy stood there, more bullish than ever. And then he was charging towards her. She caught him in her cape, and after a struggle she over powered him. Then they kissed. The crowd cheered, but when she looked up Andy had vanished.

Emily felt her face heat up. She looked away, and pretended to look out the window.

“You seen the circus, Miss Emily?”

“The circus, Jimmy?”

Jimmy walked over to the window and peered through.

“Oh, that's right, you can't see it from this side of the house. They got acrobats, and clowns. And animals: tigers, lions, and elephants too. I hear it's quite a show.”

Emily smiled. As a child she remembered being taken to the circus by her mum and dad. Andy had come too. He had liked the clowns best – he laughed until tears came to his eyes. She didn't like the clowns, she remembered sitting on her daddy's lap, peeking through his fingers.

She did love the elephants though. She loved their big floppy ears and the way they swung their trunks when they trumpeted. After the show, her daddy had taken her round the back of the circus to see the elephants. Emily cried when she saw the cages. Her daddy had scooped her up and held her. She had cried so much the tears stung like sand.

The memory from before this house hit her like one of Andy's fists. It took her breath away. She felt nauseous, and elated simultaneously.

“You alright, Miss Emily?”

Jimmy looked worried. He pulled a handkerchief from his jacket pocket , and held it out. Emily took it, realising tears were flowing down her cheeks. Jimmy looked uncertain of what to do. He suddenly sat down on the bed, next to her and held her. She felt just like she did all those years ago, crying in her daddy's arms.

“I'm sorry, Jimmy,” she said. “I just don't know why I'm here. In this house, living this life. How has this happened? How have I become this person? Andy never used to be like this.”

“He doesn't treat you good, Miss Emily.”

“No, he doesn't. And it stops here.” Emily blew her nose. She looked Jimmy in the eyes. “You gonna stop me, Jimmy. If I run away, I mean?”

Jimmy stood up. She had misjudged him. He was just like the others.

“Stop you, Miss Emily?” he said. “I'm gonna help you.”

The plan is to post as I write here, and then edit and then post on my blog with a link to yours! Haven't quite worked out how to get out of the "and then I woke up" at the end. Fine for an actual dream: really crap for a story. Have a few as yet unformed ideas...

Taking Emily's hand, Jimmy lead her down the grand staircase. A huge chandelier hung from the ceiling. They were in the entrance hall. Emily had no memory of every having seen it. What had happened to her?

Ignoring the front door, Jimmy opened a door to the left of the staircase. He fumbled with switch, and a light flickered on revealing a staircase.

“The basement,” he said. He held up his hand as Emily started towards the door. “Hold on a minute.”

Jimmy left her standing at the door, and walked across the hall. He opened another door, and disappeared inside. Emily waited. Jimmy reappeared with a pair of shoes.

“Your size, I think. I had to hide them from Mr Andy. What is his problem with you, and shoes?”

“I have no idea.”

Emily took the shoes and put them on her feet. It felt odd. She couldn't remember the last time she had worn anything on her feet, other than stockings. Jimmy led the way down the stairs.

The basement was not empty. There was some kind of vehicle. A car, but it looked like nothing Emily had ever seen before. It was cherry red.

“A Pontiac convertible,” Jimmy said. “Mr Andy's pride and joy. Built and registered in Nineteen Seventeen.”

“Nineteen seventy?” Emily said. “How can that be, Jimmy?”

“I know, amazing. He found it on Ebay. It needed a lot of work, I did most of it myself.”

“Nineteen Seventy,” Emily said, again. Just how long had she been in that house? The last time Andy had let her read a newspaper it had been dated Seventeenth May Nineteen Fifty Two. Emily rubbed the skin of her face. It felt soft, no obvious flaps of old skin.

She grabbed hold of Jimmy's hands.

“How old am I, Jimmy?”

“Don't ask me, questions like that, Miss Emily. I hate it when ladies ask me questions like that.”

Emily let go of Jimmy's hands. She ran to the car. An anxious face stared back at her from the side-view mirror. But a face she knew to be her own. She hadn't aged. Still mid-twenties, still pretty. 1970? None of this made any sense.

“What month of Nineteen Seventy, is it now, Jimmy?”

Jimmy laughed.

“What you talking about Miss Emily?” His face was serious, now. “It's January,” he said, “Two thousand and thirteen.”

Emily felt light headed. She stumbled and Jimmy caught her up in his arms. She leaned against him as he opened the passenger door.

“Never mind,” she said. “Let's get out of here, shall we?”

Jimmy closed the door. He went over to the doors and pressed a button. Emily was surprised to see the doors raise up by themselves. She looked at Jimmy, as he inserted a key into the ignition.

“Here we go, Miss Emily,” he said. “Hold on to your hat.”

The next bit is a little bit more tricky. How the hell am I gonna get that baby elephant into the car?

Thanks,

I won't put any up today (not entirely happy with it, but it is getting there). Having said that, the elephant is in the car (bit of a squeeze with the other prostitute, but she's getting over it.

I think I have figured out the ending...

Have a good weekend.