The Night Eternal
“Ephraim Goodweather startled awake. He thrashed on the sofa, flipping onto his back and sitting up, and—in one fluid, violent motion—gripped the worn leather sword handle jutting out of the pack on the floor at his side and slashed the air with a blade of singing silver.
His battle cry, hoarse and garbled, a fugitive from his nightmares, stopped short. His blade quivered, unmet.
He was alone.
Kelly’s house. Her sofa. Familiar things.
His ex-wife’s living room. The scream was a far-off siren, converted into a human shriek by his sleeping mind.
He had been dreaming again. Of fire and shapes—indefinable but vaguely humanoid—made of blinding light. A flashpoint. He was in the dream and these shapes wrestled with him right before the light consumed it all. He always awoke agitated and exhausted, as if he had physically grappled with an opponent. The dream came out of nowhere. He could be having the most domestic kind of reverie—a picnic, a traffic jam, a day at the office—and then the ligh...t would grow and consume it all, and the silvery figures emerged.MoreLess
His battle cry, hoarse and garbled, a fugitive from his nightmares, stopped short. His blade quivered, unmet.
He was alone.
Kelly’s house. Her sofa. Familiar things.
His ex-wife’s living room. The scream was a far-off siren, converted into a human shriek by his sleeping mind.
He had been dreaming again. Of fire and shapes—indefinable but vaguely humanoid—made of blinding light. A flashpoint. He was in the dream and these shapes wrestled with him right before the light consumed it all. He always awoke agitated and exhausted, as if he had physically grappled with an opponent. The dream came out of nowhere. He could be having the most domestic kind of reverie—a picnic, a traffic jam, a day at the office—and then the ligh...t would grow and consume it all, and the silvery figures emerged.MoreLess
Write Review:
Guest
Read Also
9 / 10
7 / 10
User Reviews: