Aim Shorts

The Dreambender

Story prompt: For as long as you can remember, you've been a dreambender - capable of shaping people's dreams for better or worse.

Story word count = 499

A flickering fireplace provided faint illumination. Fine art lining the walls and shelves of rare books spoke of cultured affluence. Two highback upholstered chairs faced the fire's warmth.

A shadowy voice came from one chair. "Is this the dreambender?"

The Broker tugged along a gaunt young woman wearing a simple brown burlap frock. A swirling dizziness overtook her. She might have fallen but for his tight grip on her arm. Thin tangled hair nearly obscured her bowed face.

He bowed. "Yes, my lord. The very best she is. No doubt--"

The Broker stepped back, gasping as the firelight revealed the man in the chair. Lord Maste, to be sure, but wounded and disfigured. Oozing burn scars covered half his face. One sleeve of his silk robe draped empty at his side. Extending from the other sleeve, scars marked a twisted hand.

Lord Maste barked in a gravelly voice, "Leave us!"

The Broker glared at the woman as he left. She knew what his piercing eyes said. Failure to please the client, thus risking a sizable profit, would bring punishment.

The dreambender lifted her eyes, gazing at the broken man. Her face showed no expression.

Maste raised a singed eyebrow. "You do not find me repulsive?"

"No, my lord. My eyes see only the outward appearance. It is within dreams I witness the truth of a man, the soul stripped of its outward disguises."

"What is your name, dreambender?"

"Fallow, sir."

"Like the graceful deer?"

She lowered her head. "No. Like a barren field. Most think me an abomination."

He sighed. "I do not. To my shame, before I would have. Strange how facing death changes one's outlook."

"Not so strange. In some ways, death is an awakening." Fallow kneeled at his side. "How may I serve you, my lord?"

He took a raspy breath. "Before life passes, I would like to dream of simple pleasures, of goodness long neglected. A life I have wasted in lonely quests for power and wealth."

She raised a hand, and he fell into deep slumber.

*****

Fallow shook her long thick hair while drawing deep the fresh scented air. Serene cottages stood on a hill overlooking the sea. Snowcapped mountains loomed in the distance. The setting sun brushed the western horizon with colors while fireflies danced in the tall grass.

Maste stroked his smooth face with renewed hands. He spun around, mouth gaping. "Where... This is not my dream."

"It is my dream, my refuge from the world." She put a hand on his shoulder. "Even now, your mortal body fails. I offer to share my sanctuary with you, as I have to other good souls. Here there is no suffering."

Maste scoffed. "But is it not real, just a fleeting dream?"

Fallow smiled. "A dream, yes. But no less real. I am a dreambender. I make it so. Here there are mountains to climb, seas to sail, friendships to forge, and new dreams to dream. The angel of death will wait."