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Description
That was a good dream...

But even though the images remained vivid in my mind, they now lacked their dreamlike quality. Now, it was like looking at photos in a yearbook.

The dream had begun with my acceptance into Harvard Law; that was how I knew it was a dream. Then, before I could tell my family the good news, a group of fantastical, full lipped, cherub faced, half pint-sized people came tumbling into the kitchen through the fireplace. They had stood there smiling at us and my family and I had stared back in awe. I had been angry because their presence was detracting attention from my big announcement. In hind sight though, the theatrics were brilliant.

Then my family had started moving backwards, like possessed insects, right before my eyes. Fear had replaced anger and astonishment. The dream had become momentarily nightmarish as I was sucked up the chimney by one of the rosy cheeked, small people. It had been quite disturbing before I had realised it was all just a silly little dream, and once it had faded I began to feel strangely alone; empty and like I was missing a part of myself.

Safe in the knowledge that it was all a figment of my imagination, I attempted to recapture it. I was curious to know what would happen next. I desperately tried to grab onto the dissolving tendrils of my fading fantasy but I was unsuccessful: it was gone. Replacing it was the uncomfortable urge to pee.
Curse my bladder for being so ridiculously small. Curse my dream for leaving me far too soon.

“Should we wake her?” Asked a voice from the other side of the blanket of unconsciousness I was tucked beneath.
Curse those foolish voices...
“Nudge her, Daffy; we’re short on time here.” Another voice commanded.
No, no, no...Besides this desperate urge to pee, I am quite happy in this dreamless state of existence thank you very much...
Something heavy pressed against my shoulder, I felt my flesh sink lightly under its pressure.
Do you not understand that I want to be left alone! My subconscious barked. I readjusted myself on the mattress.
“She moved.”
“Then, at least we know she’s still alive.”
“I was just saying, Ed...”
“Stop saying, and wake her up!”
“Alright!”
The prodding recommenced with added force. I lifted my hand carelessly to swipe at the annoying person. “Bryan, I’m gunna kick your little bubble butt if you don’t pack it in. Lemme sleep.”
“Bryan?”
“Her brother,”
“Right.”
I heard footsteps coming closer and I wondered if I was once again dreaming. Then they stopped and I couldn’t help but feel that there was a person standing over me. I shuddered and changed my mind: I wanted the dream to end. I felt someone lean in close and the mattress groaned under the new weight.
What’s this?
I felt the warmth of someone’s breath in the nook of my ear. Someone else’s hair landed softly on my eyelid. I jerked up, my eyes shot open in horror; the previous events flooded back through me like a flash flood of acidic flavoured medicine. It hadn’t been a dream. None of it had been a dream. And then the voice confirmed all my fears.

“I’m not your brother Alice. And you’re not in Kansas anymore.”

With wide eyed fear I turned to look at the speaker. He wasn’t alone. Hovering around me were at least a dozen unknown faces. They stared with unabashed curiosity.

I screamed. Loudly. A gloved hand clamped itself across my open mouth and muffled the intensity of my scream. An arm bound my failing limbs against my shaking torso. A gentle hushing began to issue from between a set of teeth. I struggled to break free but the grip that held me was firm and unrelenting. I was pinned against a foreign body.
“I’ll let you go, Alice, but only if you promise not to scream.” The voice was male, and soaked into his words was the timbre of natural authority. It took every ounce of courage I had to keep struggling and not succumb to his command.  I was driven to a greater level of fear due to his knowledge of my name.
How does he know my name???
Show no fear, I thought. Fight, struggle, incapacitate him, and run!
“Stop Alice,” He commanded, again. “Stop struggling, it is okay. I promise you, I will let you go if you just calm down.”
Oh yeah right!
From between his fingers I began to argue that my ‘not screaming’ was out of the question; that it was about as likely as me not pressing charges for harassment and kidnapping. But my speech was garbled by the pressure of his hand against my mouth and the leather material of the glove. My words did not carry the impact that I intended them to. Finally, exhausted, I surrendered. I stopped struggling. My shoulders relaxed and my head went still. I waited for him to release me as he said he would.
“Remember, no more screaming.” He reminded me; his voice was serious. The hand that held my mouth fell gently away and the blood returned to my lips. I licked them automatically, tasting the flesh.
I am real; this is real...
The arm that single-handedly lashed my limbs against my torso, relaxed. On being released, I shrank away from him; into the corner of the mattress I had been placed on. I drew my knees in close and ensconced myself securely in my arms. All sorts of ugly thoughts raged inside my head. I was scared. I didn’t know why I was here or what these people wanted from me.
“Alice?” The boy asked. I ignored him and surveyed my surroundings. I was in some kind of room; there were buttons and joysticks, panels, and computer screens. It reminded me of a cock pit, or some kind of control room. There were metal blinds on the windows so I couldn’t see where the room was situated. I remembered being dragged up the chimney and I wondered if I was on a space craft; if I had been abducted by an alien species. I began to feel sick.
“Talk to me Alice.”
My eyes flickered nervously around for a way out. Nothing. They briefly skimmed the faces of my kidnappers. A few of them looked just as nervous as I did but mostly they appeared intrigued. I noted their odd appearances but thought it wise to not incur their wrath by staring too long at an individual.
The strange machinery in the background began to make whirring sounds.

“Where am I?” I asked, tentatively, turning back to the boy.
“You’re with the Crew of Pod one-oh-one. You’re in the company of the Travelling Circus. I am Edward, second in command of Pod one-oh-one.”
“I don’t understand. Are you going to experiment on me?” The machinery and the futuristic design of the room made this an obvious question to ask. Perhaps I had been placed here because I carried some sort of genetic disease. Perhaps the short, smiley men were a group of scientists charged with protecting non carriers of the disease from hosts like me. The thought made me want to cry and I swallowed down the rising lump in my throat.
“Let me guess,” said a man in the background. His voice was gruff and he wore a Chef’s hat and a blood stained apron. I winced at the sight of the  smeared blood on his clothes.
He must be the experimenter...or is he the executioner?
“You think you’ve been abducted by aliens.”
The boy closet to me grinned back at his friend, the executioner, and then looked at me, curious as to my answer.
“Have I?” I asked nervously.
“Yes.” The boy said simply, relishing the astonishment on my face. “You most certainly have.”
“Well, no, you haven’t,” A man with painted designs on his skin insisted.
“Yes, she has,” Edward countered playfully. He rubbed his chin in feigned thoughtfulness, “In the scientific sense of the word, and in relation to the fact she is from earth and we are not. She has indeed been kidnapped by Aliens.” He winked at me. “But we don’t intend on experimenting on you, love.”
“Intend?” I stretched the word out into two syllables, testing it for a hidden meaning. There seemed to be none. I moved on to the more glaring situation.
“Not from earth?”
“Nope,” He seemed out to make me squirm.
“I think I’m going to pass out...”
“We did not kidnap her!” A tiny woman in the background sang out dramatically, “She is the Chosen!” I looked over towards the source of the voice. The woman I saw was swathed in multi-coloured, miss-matched materials; feathers, bangles, and beads. She wore dangling earrings, and looked like a deranged, avant-garde soothsayer slash ‘oracle’.
“Chosen?”
She only smiled back in response.
Edward nodded thoughtfully. “Yes. Thank you Regina.” He didn’t continue.
“Chosen for what?” I asked weakly.
A short pause ensued and no one in the room seemed to want to be the first to fill it. I took the silence to be embarrassment, and this made me curious. Were my kidnappers having second thoughts? Perhaps this was regret induced silence, and they were experiencing an epiphany of righteousness and remorse for their unethical actions. Perhaps they were going to return me to planet earth. I didn’t interrupt; I did not want to hinder their journey towards enlightenment. I waited for the tremendous apologies to surge forth; I waited for them to beg for my forgiveness and return me to my kitchen and my life.
It was during this short silence that I allowed myself a second glance at my captors. There were nine of them in total. It was quite an astonishing number, made even more so by the motley nature of their physiques and diverse choice of apparel.

There was a mammoth sized man in a caveman costume, with beefy thighs and tendons that jutted out like pulsing markings from his arms and neck. There was the aforementioned man in the blood stained apron, the shrieking lady who believed me to be the ‘Chosen’, and a woman in a long, black leather cape with a pixie cut hairdo and a crooked grin. She wore huge biker boots with the laces undone.

Another man present was painted in intricate and stunning drawings of animals and symbols. They looked to be tattoos but they seemed alive – as if the ink that made them slid around them like flowing water in a moat. It was fascinating but I was too scared to look for long. I looked away and my eyes came to a trembling halt on the face of one of the most beautiful girls I had ever seen.

She looked ethnic, probably Indian. Her features were fine but smooth, as was her skin and she was slender, and model like in height.  She wore a gold trimmed, scarlet bodice over a shirt with outrageously big sleeves and black fitted trousers that accentuated her slender curves. She felt me looking and turned up her nose. I felt myself go red and turned my eyes away.

They fell, next, upon a quiet looking, pale boy with pale blonde hair and strangely cut eyes. His skin gave off an eerie shimmer, almost like it was made of very fine scales. He was beautiful and delicate looking. He viewed me critically, and with unabashed directness, beneath lidless, bloodshot eyes. Again, I turned away.

The boy nearest me was staring at me with obvious interest and a half grin. I wondered whether it would be appropriate to scope him out: he was so close and would see me doing it. I decided to go for it.
He wore a short top hat which his thick dark fringe protruded out of; partly veiling his eyes. He wore a crisp metallic, moss green shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His top three buttons were undone and a blood red tie hung carelessly around his neck. He had on black dinner trousers and shiny black shoes.  I looked up and our eyes met. I made a noise, a gasp, and his mouth twitched up in amusement.
It was his eyes, they startled me. They were dark blue, or black. Possibly even brown. But whatever their colour they went deep like the roots of an ancient tree, and there was something wicked and powerful about them.  Their surface was shiny; glassy even. I could almost see my own reflection staring back at me in awe. I turned quickly away, fearing I would see too much. A fear I did not understand but that wouldn’t unhook me from its tenuous grasp.
But it was through his eyes that I realised the silence had not been induced by second thoughts about by capture. It had not been the beginning of my freedom. It had been the end.

“This is going to sound very strange.” He began in a staged murmur.
“After all the theatrics, I would be disappointed if your explanation sounded normal.” I replied with a directness that feigned courage I didn’t really possess. His eyebrow rose; he looked amused by my response. I know he saw right through my facade and I felt naked.
“Well, listen up sweetheart. I only have time to tell you once.”

Description
That was a good dream...

But even though the images remained vivid in my mind, they now lacked their dreamlike quality. Now, it was like looking at photos in a yearbook.

The dream had begun with my acceptance into Harvard Law; that was how I knew it was a dream. Then, before I could tell my family the good news, a group of fantastical, full lipped, cherub faced, half pint-sized people came tumbling into the kitchen through the fireplace. They had stood there smiling at us and my family and I had stared back in awe. I had been angry because their presence was detracting attention from my big announcement. In hind sight though, the theatrics were brilliant.

Then my family had started moving backwards, like possessed insects, right before my eyes. Fear had replaced anger and astonishment. The dream had become momentarily nightmarish as I was sucked up the chimney by one of the rosy cheeked, small people. It had been quite disturbing before I had realised it was all just a silly little dream, and once it had faded I began to feel strangely alone; empty and like I was missing a part of myself.

Safe in the knowledge that it was all a figment of my imagination, I attempted to recapture it. I was curious to know what would happen next. I desperately tried to grab onto the dissolving tendrils of my fading fantasy but I was unsuccessful: it was gone. Replacing it was the uncomfortable urge to pee.
Curse my bladder for being so ridiculously small. Curse my dream for leaving me far too soon.

“Should we wake her?” Asked a voice from the other side of the blanket of unconsciousness I was tucked beneath.
Curse those foolish voices...
“Nudge her, Daffy; we’re short on time here.” Another voice commanded.
No, no, no...Besides this desperate urge to pee, I am quite happy in this dreamless state of existence thank you very much...
Something heavy pressed against my shoulder, I felt my flesh sink lightly under its pressure.
Do you not understand that I want to be left alone! My subconscious barked. I readjusted myself on the mattress.
“She moved.”
“Then, at least we know she’s still alive.”
“I was just saying, Ed...”
“Stop saying, and wake her up!”
“Alright!”
The prodding recommenced with added force. I lifted my hand carelessly to swipe at the annoying person. “Bryan, I’m gunna kick your little bubble butt if you don’t pack it in. Lemme sleep.”
“Bryan?”
“Her brother,”
“Right.”
I heard footsteps coming closer and I wondered if I was once again dreaming. Then they stopped and I couldn’t help but feel that there was a person standing over me. I shuddered and changed my mind: I wanted the dream to end. I felt someone lean in close and the mattress groaned under the new weight.
What’s this?
I felt the warmth of someone’s breath in the nook of my ear. Someone else’s hair landed softly on my eyelid. I jerked up, my eyes shot open in horror; the previous events flooded back through me like a flash flood of acidic flavoured medicine. It hadn’t been a dream. None of it had been a dream. And then the voice confirmed all my fears.

“I’m not your brother Alice. And you’re not in Kansas anymore.”

With wide eyed fear I turned to look at the speaker. He wasn’t alone. Hovering around me were at least a dozen unknown faces. They stared with unabashed curiosity.

I screamed. Loudly. A gloved hand clamped itself across my open mouth and muffled the intensity of my scream. An arm bound my failing limbs against my shaking torso. A gentle hushing began to issue from between a set of teeth. I struggled to break free but the grip that held me was firm and unrelenting. I was pinned against a foreign body.
“I’ll let you go, Alice, but only if you promise not to scream.” The voice was male, and soaked into his words was the timbre of natural authority. It took every ounce of courage I had to keep struggling and not succumb to his command.  I was driven to a greater level of fear due to his knowledge of my name.
How does he know my name???
Show no fear, I thought. Fight, struggle, incapacitate him, and run!
“Stop Alice,” He commanded, again. “Stop struggling, it is okay. I promise you, I will let you go if you just calm down.”
Oh yeah right!
From between his fingers I began to argue that my ‘not screaming’ was out of the question; that it was about as likely as me not pressing charges for harassment and kidnapping. But my speech was garbled by the pressure of his hand against my mouth and the leather material of the glove. My words did not carry the impact that I intended them to. Finally, exhausted, I surrendered. I stopped struggling. My shoulders relaxed and my head went still. I waited for him to release me as he said he would.
“Remember, no more screaming.” He reminded me; his voice was serious. The hand that held my mouth fell gently away and the blood returned to my lips. I licked them automatically, tasting the flesh.
I am real; this is real...
The arm that single-handedly lashed my limbs against my torso, relaxed. On being released, I shrank away from him; into the corner of the mattress I had been placed on. I drew my knees in close and ensconced myself securely in my arms. All sorts of ugly thoughts raged inside my head. I was scared. I didn’t know why I was here or what these people wanted from me.
“Alice?” The boy asked. I ignored him and surveyed my surroundings. I was in some kind of room; there were buttons and joysticks, panels, and computer screens. It reminded me of a cock pit, or some kind of control room. There were metal blinds on the windows so I couldn’t see where the room was situated. I remembered being dragged up the chimney and I wondered if I was on a space craft; if I had been abducted by an alien species. I began to feel sick.
“Talk to me Alice.”
My eyes flickered nervously around for a way out. Nothing. They briefly skimmed the faces of my kidnappers. A few of them looked just as nervous as I did but mostly they appeared intrigued. I noted their odd appearances but thought it wise to not incur their wrath by staring too long at an individual.
The strange machinery in the background began to make whirring sounds.

“Where am I?” I asked, tentatively, turning back to the boy.
“You’re with the Crew of Pod one-oh-one. You’re in the company of the Travelling Circus. I am Edward, second in command of Pod one-oh-one.”
“I don’t understand. Are you going to experiment on me?” The machinery and the futuristic design of the room made this an obvious question to ask. Perhaps I had been placed here because I carried some sort of genetic disease. Perhaps the short, smiley men were a group of scientists charged with protecting non carriers of the disease from hosts like me. The thought made me want to cry and I swallowed down the rising lump in my throat.
“Let me guess,” said a man in the background. His voice was gruff and he wore a Chef’s hat and a blood stained apron. I winced at the sight of the  smeared blood on his clothes.
He must be the experimenter...or is he the executioner?
“You think you’ve been abducted by aliens.”
The boy closet to me grinned back at his friend, the executioner, and then looked at me, curious as to my answer.
“Have I?” I asked nervously.
“Yes.” The boy said simply, relishing the astonishment on my face. “You most certainly have.”
“Well, no, you haven’t,” A man with painted designs on his skin insisted.
“Yes, she has,” Edward countered playfully. He rubbed his chin in feigned thoughtfulness, “In the scientific sense of the word, and in relation to the fact she is from earth and we are not. She has indeed been kidnapped by Aliens.” He winked at me. “But we don’t intend on experimenting on you, love.”
“Intend?” I stretched the word out into two syllables, testing it for a hidden meaning. There seemed to be none. I moved on to the more glaring situation.
“Not from earth?”
“Nope,” He seemed out to make me squirm.
“I think I’m going to pass out...”
“We did not kidnap her!” A tiny woman in the background sang out dramatically, “She is the Chosen!” I looked over towards the source of the voice. The woman I saw was swathed in multi-coloured, miss-matched materials; feathers, bangles, and beads. She wore dangling earrings, and looked like a deranged, avant-garde soothsayer slash ‘oracle’.
“Chosen?”
She only smiled back in response.
Edward nodded thoughtfully. “Yes. Thank you Regina.” He didn’t continue.
“Chosen for what?” I asked weakly.
A short pause ensued and no one in the room seemed to want to be the first to fill it. I took the silence to be embarrassment, and this made me curious. Were my kidnappers having second thoughts? Perhaps this was regret induced silence, and they were experiencing an epiphany of righteousness and remorse for their unethical actions. Perhaps they were going to return me to planet earth. I didn’t interrupt; I did not want to hinder their journey towards enlightenment. I waited for the tremendous apologies to surge forth; I waited for them to beg for my forgiveness and return me to my kitchen and my life.
It was during this short silence that I allowed myself a second glance at my captors. There were nine of them in total. It was quite an astonishing number, made even more so by the motley nature of their physiques and diverse choice of apparel.

There was a mammoth sized man in a caveman costume, with beefy thighs and tendons that jutted out like pulsing markings from his arms and neck. There was the aforementioned man in the blood stained apron, the shrieking lady who believed me to be the ‘Chosen’, and a woman in a long, black leather cape with a pixie cut hairdo and a crooked grin. She wore huge biker boots with the laces undone.

Another man present was painted in intricate and stunning drawings of animals and symbols. They looked to be tattoos but they seemed alive – as if the ink that made them slid around them like flowing water in a moat. It was fascinating but I was too scared to look for long. I looked away and my eyes came to a trembling halt on the face of one of the most beautiful girls I had ever seen.

She looked ethnic, probably Indian. Her features were fine but smooth, as was her skin and she was slender, and model like in height.  She wore a gold trimmed, scarlet bodice over a shirt with outrageously big sleeves and black fitted trousers that accentuated her slender curves. She felt me looking and turned up her nose. I felt myself go red and turned my eyes away.

They fell, next, upon a quiet looking, pale boy with pale blonde hair and strangely cut eyes. His skin gave off an eerie shimmer, almost like it was made of very fine scales. He was beautiful and delicate looking. He viewed me critically, and with unabashed directness, beneath lidless, bloodshot eyes. Again, I turned away.

The boy nearest me was staring at me with obvious interest and a half grin. I wondered whether it would be appropriate to scope him out: he was so close and would see me doing it. I decided to go for it.
He wore a short top hat which his thick dark fringe protruded out of; partly veiling his eyes. He wore a crisp metallic, moss green shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His top three buttons were undone and a blood red tie hung carelessly around his neck. He had on black dinner trousers and shiny black shoes.  I looked up and our eyes met. I made a noise, a gasp, and his mouth twitched up in amusement.
It was his eyes, they startled me. They were dark blue, or black. Possibly even brown. But whatever their colour they went deep like the roots of an ancient tree, and there was something wicked and powerful about them.  Their surface was shiny; glassy even. I could almost see my own reflection staring back at me in awe. I turned quickly away, fearing I would see too much. A fear I did not understand but that wouldn’t unhook me from its tenuous grasp.
But it was through his eyes that I realised the silence had not been induced by second thoughts about by capture. It had not been the beginning of my freedom. It had been the end.

“This is going to sound very strange.” He began in a staged murmur.
“After all the theatrics, I would be disappointed if your explanation sounded normal.” I replied with a directness that feigned courage I didn’t really possess. His eyebrow rose; he looked amused by my response. I know he saw right through my facade and I felt naked.
“Well, listen up sweetheart. I only have time to tell you once.”