Warm Up - 8
#8 of Daily Warm Ups
I hope and will do my best to have this conclude in the best outcome out there.
We'll see where this goes, how this develops and such. Do wish me luck.
Enjoy, and thanks for reading!
Note though, I shouldn't predict what the next Warm Up should be unless it's every 7th because these are supposed to be unstructured pieces.
Warm Up - 8
"That will be all, Nicholas." Ricky said to the Prospect.
The crocodilian deity nodded after the fulfillment of his task as he faded away to somewhere else.
Ricky was left there, alone, in one of the many uninhabited grass worlds. It reminded him of 'Importance' , one of the five dreams. The tall grass, the winds that blew over their faded green glades, under a gray sky, and a cloud that surrounded a distant white sun.
He was sitting on top of a boulder amongst those scattered throughout the land. This one was the most comfy for it was curved enough, and wide enough so he wouldn't lose balance.
One may think it bleak, how there was nothing here. Alone, not a peep from a creature and only the whistle of a strong gust. On the contrary, he had never felt more calm. The last few Universal days had been stressful, still recovering from the escape. A memory he did not want to explore yet, no.
Ricky felt a tingle along his spine, and he looked around to see what had caused it. His omniscience did not detect the surroundings of this world, nor sector, nor Realm, nor Reality. He had been dreamt of rather, by another.
His inner self, a consciousness that far extended his own existence, reached out to a distant Reality in the Ayenephosphere. He saw glorious colors, nebulae in appearance and only that. Realities danced around such pretty colors, these assortment of shapes, sizes, and forms he dared not gander.
Whoever dreamt of him mattered more than any uniqueness, for itself was unique. There was a poem, whispered to him by his own voice yet its will beyond his. He learned to not question it for he knew it was himself who had made choices far better.
The voice recited:
A Prelude to a Prelude
Somewhere in the absurdity and benign
He found him, one whose heart was kind
Furred, like the world he rested on, almost like the dream
There was more to this person than what it seemed
One who shall wait until their Realities connect
Two of their own kind, who by then had expect
Both a place in their stories, a place to unite into one heart
Yet for the hybrid, on this world will such a story start
This Reality he saw was of a different shape, much much simpler. A sphere that he peered into like a crystal ball, where he saw himself and another. A dragon of fur it seemed. Ricky's heartstrings were strung for it was in the shadows, with light only from the moon, and barely from the lamps that leaked through the curtains. Though he felt them embrace tight, true, and warm. He himself wanted such, and found...
He felt what it was like to have been dreamt. It was blissful- the acknowledgement, the existence. The outer self warmed, relaxed, and had let out a satisfied sigh. Slid down the stone and onto the grass, its sensations were more pronounced, with the wind blowing far colder as his fur and skin felt livelier.
"Wow," Ricky whispered to himself, having already lost his connection to the dream. It may have been abrupt but it finally happened, and with it followed peace. His inner self awoke though, as sudden as the disconnect. A juxtaposition was abound as an 'other' would come to him.
There were echoes of a few words he could make out. The one was cordial, one of his own, and the other who agreed upon joining CASFHA. Ricky's ears perked at that, fox tail wagging as he climbed upon the rock looking for this new guest.
After his inner self had quieted down, he sought him through his omniscience and found nothing. Had it been a fluke? A trickery? No, his ears twitched. Someone lurked around the grass with him, and his tail stood in excitement.
"Hi, I'm Ricky," he announced himself. Smiling, and feeling as if he truly existed. Like all pleasant things, it came to him from outside his, and he was thrown off by an unexpected force that caught them on their wings.
As cliche as the expression was, Ricky's heart skipped a beat upon seeing the angel. And the poem had been right for the guest was like the grass, with light blue eyes.
"Nice to meet you," he replied with a voice so casual that it left a good impression.
Ricky hugged him tight, and he hugged him back too. Tighter as dark clouds of his own uncertainty closed in.