Below is a short excerpt from my short story ‘The Guest House’, which appears in the rather marvellous anthology ‘Static Dreams – Volume 2’.
If you enjoyed this excerpt (and are hopefully intrigued by it) the entire story (along with some other wonderful stories) can be read by purchasing the book in either physical or e-book format.
Details can be found at the end of the excerpt.
THE GUEST HOUSE
Duncan’s dream had been the same each night since he had first booked in to the small seaside guest house nearly two weeks earlier. He woke every morning at around eight-thirty with the image still swimming around his head as if it were afraid to let him leave and stumble into another day. The picture was as clear as anything that he might have seen the previous day, or the day before that, except for the fact that it wasn’t. It wasn’t his mind recalling events or restructuring facts; it wasn’t conjuring a vision or a particular fantasy, nor was it his subconscious playing idly with images that he had seen or imagined from books. His dream came at some point when he was asleep and hung around until the moment that he awoke and then thrust itself in front of him. Or had it only just formed itself in the moments immediately before his body began to stir to the rhythms of a new day? Duncan was unsure, but of one thing he was certain – the dream remained the same.
To say that it was a dream was perhaps affording it rather more significance than it deserved however. When Duncan first started to emerge from his slumber, when his brain began to acknowledge the sounds that emanated from somewhere outside of himself, and his eyes began to accept the light that had invaded his room, the scene inside his head was as vivid as any reality, and yet that was all it was – a scene. For ten consecutive nights he had awoken to the same scene and yet was unaware of what had happened prior to that point in his dream. Of course he had tried to imagine the events which might have led to the scene that replayed behind his eyes; he had daydreamed fantasies and build entire scripts around it, but as the morning light made itself fully known to him, he had always realized that these dramas were not his dream, and, as a result, left him disappointed and cold. Try as he might, Duncan was unable to drag himself back into his dream, even though it revisited him each night, to see what was hidden from him. All that ever remained was the fleeting image weaving itself in and out of his consciousness until it slipped away quietly like a fishing boat into the fog.
He was laying face down on the bed, the woman’s thighs, full and as smooth as satin, spread on either side of his head. Her knees were bent up, or at least he assumed that they were, and he was aware of the creamy texture of her flesh, so close to his face. His arms stretched out from his shoulders, but seemed to disappear before forming hands, his awareness of the feel of her skin reaching him in subconscious waves. He knew that he was kissing her and also that she was drawing pleasure from his movements. He tried to raise his head, to lift his eyes, straining in desperation to gaze across her belly, the form of her breasts and to see her face, but each attempt proved fruitless. As pleasurable to her as his actions were, however, Duncan, with each passing night, was finding less gratification and greater frustration in his dream. Each morning, as his eyes forced themselves open, flickering momentarily against the light, Duncan found himself more and more consumed by one passion, one desire: to discover the identity of the woman who had hijacked his dreams.
To purchase your own copy of either ‘Static Dreams – Volume 2’ or its sister publication ‘Static Dreams – Volume 1’ simply follow one of the links below (and enjoy):