So, as it’s summer and actual proper writing time is scarce….I am limited to stealing five minutes here and there to interact with the writing community on Twitter.  Thanks to the hashtag games…some of my favorites are #BadWordSat and #Satsplat…and I try to get involved with #vss365.  Below is a little short based on those themes/tweets.  It’s like not being able to get to the gym (and ironically, I haven’t been to the gym in months)…not being able to steal myself away for three-four hours, five days a week and just focus on my WIPs.  I’m in demand from grown ups and children and one small canine at the moment.  But I’m not posting today to moan about the demands of grown up life.

Without further ado…here are Sylvia and Morpheus:

One arm and one leg dangle over the bridge. The concrete, cold and unloving beneath my back, is a weak barrier to him.  While the sky above echoes with all the noise of any capital city, the river below carries his voice.

“Just roll over, join me.”  he whispers from flowing waters.

I wince, “I’m in bed, I’m in bed, I’m in bed…”

“The river bed is soft, warm.  Why, it’s intimate even.  We could, what is it you mortals say…fu.”

“Fuck off.”

“Now, Sylvia, that’s not very nice.”

He thinly veils an angry tone.  I don’t usually talk back.  I’ve always been so in awe, so devoted.

Looking up at the slate grey sky, it’s like an eternal day, but I’m asleep and robbed of warm light.

I miss her….Nyx.  I miss her and it feels as though she’s never been part of my life.  That’s what he’s doing, removing any familiarity with anyone else.  I’m dreaming of some random capital city, It’s a labyrinth of unknown people and places.  Strange smells.  Angry, sweary shouts from motorists.

For a moment, the sky flickers a darker color.  He is in my head, he knows I’m thinking of her.  He’s pretended to be her before.  A strong female savior.  Raven hair flying in the wind as she rides in.

“Do you really think she has time for you?  She was momentarily interested, it was years ago.”

I start to shiver.  I know I’m in bed, If I could just wake up and pull the covers over myself, or even better, go have a hot shower and walk out into you know…the world.  I’ve got to get to work.

He keeps doing this every night, trapping me for as long as possible in a dream.  Only it gets deeper and deeper. It’s not about being sleepy anymore…he’s made his realm inside my head.

“Hold me, Sylvia…hold me in your arms…” his voice has a mocking tone to it. not cruel, more…teasing and flirting.

“Why don’t you show yourself, Morpheus? Why can I never see what you really look like?”

“I’m a god…can’t you try and imagine?”

“You’re the only god who cannot touch mortals physically.  You can take any form, get into any sleeping mind…but you can’t touch and you aren’t tangible.  So…why do you talk about us being together in some way like two humans could be together?”

His voice is so close to my ear, it’s like I could guess the shape of his teeth, the size of his mouth.  I still can’t turn or move, but my bed is becoming more real.  Because that IS where I actually am.

“Sometimes, Sylvia the way two can become closest, become one…is by entwining their minds.  No mortal could do that for you, no amount of fluid exchanging, fleshy friction and filthy whispers can do that.  Only I have access to your core.”

With that, my eyes open.  The bridge, the river, the city is all gone.  It’s morning.  I roll over, and I swear I see an imprint of someone having been in my bed.

…to be continued….