Read Online Dreams of Shreds and Tatters by Amanda Downum - Free Book Online
Authors: Amanda Downum
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counselors who thought her too withdrawn, and the guilt in her aunt’s eyes whenever she found time for her shy and awkward niece. Then came Alice’s suicide, and the rounds of therapy and antidepressants, and Liz wished she could sleep and dream forever.
But she grew up, and college was better, and night by night, week by week, year by year, she remembered her dreams less and less, and her dreamland friends grew old without her. Four years, she realized—four years had passed since she last came back and found them gone.
Wake up, she told herself, but the dream held her. A marmalade cat butted his head against her ankle, mewing in sympathy. Or maybe only for a snack. She scratched his ears, but he wandered off when he saw her hands were empty.
As she straightened a wary mutter rippled between the shoppers, and the crowd parted at the far end of the market. The wind shifted and she smelled wet. She flinched, afraid for a moment that the shade of Alice had found her again, but the figure stumbling down the street was someone else.
The old man hugged his arms against his bony chest. Water ran from his tangled hair, pooled around his feet with every step. Cats followed at a safe distance, sniffing his trail. The locals eyed him with more suspicion; no one stopped to help when he tripped and fell to his knees. Liz’s eyes widened as she recognized him.
“Are you all right?” she asked, crouching beside him. Which was, she realized, a stupid question.
Yves looked at her with wide, wild eyes. The Vancouver chill still clung to him, radiating from his grey-tinged flesh. “The water was very cold. It’s been so long since I felt warm. So long... I didn’t know if I’d ever find this place again.”
She smiled ruefully. “It’s an easy place to find.” Even when you meant to stay away. She offered him a hand and rose. “Go to the temple,” she said, nodding toward the ivy-walled tower rising above the rooftops. “The priests can help you.”
“ Merci. ” His chapped, broken-nailed hands enfolded hers, colder than the stones beneath her feet. Even icy and wan as he was, his flesh seemed more substantial than hers—this was his home now, and she was only visiting.
“The King came for me, you see,” he said with a mad grin. “He wanted my soul. He showed me so many beautiful things... I saw the towers rise above the lost city. But I ran.” He bowed over her hand, dripping cold salt water onto her wrist. “Thank you for your kindness. Be careful—I see His shadow on you. I’ll pray for you and your friend at the temple.”
He walked away before Liz could ask him what he meant. She wiped her hand on her T-shirt and chafed her fingers, trying to decide if she should go after him. Before she could make up her mind, a man beside her spoke.
“You have a kind heart to speak so gently to strangers.” Tall and broad-shouldered, with skin the color of polished mahogany. He wore robes of white linen and his head was shaved. He studied her with heavy-lidded black eyes. “These dark times make men forget courtesy.”
“I knew him from the waking world,” she said, trying to keep her composure under the weight of his gaze.
“Ah.” His lips curled. “Not a stranger, then, but I think you have a kind heart nonetheless.” His voice was deep and rich, carefully measured as a stage actor’s.
“What do you mean, these dark times?”
He shrugged, and a golden brooch flashed on his breast. “Travelers bring rumors of monsters on the roads, rumors of slavers. Caravans from Carcosa ride through towns and people vanish in the night.”
“Carcosa?” It wasn’t a name she’d heard before, dreaming or awake.
“The city of Carcosa. Lost Carcosa, some call it. The roads that lead there have long been sealed, but there are always ways around such obstacles.”
Liz hugged herself. “Why does a lost city need slaves? And who is this King everyone keeps talking about?” And what did any of it have to do with
But she grew up, and college was better, and night by night, week by week, year by year, she remembered her dreams less and less, and her dreamland friends grew old without her. Four years, she realized—four years had passed since she last came back and found them gone.
Wake up, she told herself, but the dream held her. A marmalade cat butted his head against her ankle, mewing in sympathy. Or maybe only for a snack. She scratched his ears, but he wandered off when he saw her hands were empty.
As she straightened a wary mutter rippled between the shoppers, and the crowd parted at the far end of the market. The wind shifted and she smelled wet. She flinched, afraid for a moment that the shade of Alice had found her again, but the figure stumbling down the street was someone else.
The old man hugged his arms against his bony chest. Water ran from his tangled hair, pooled around his feet with every step. Cats followed at a safe distance, sniffing his trail. The locals eyed him with more suspicion; no one stopped to help when he tripped and fell to his knees. Liz’s eyes widened as she recognized him.
“Are you all right?” she asked, crouching beside him. Which was, she realized, a stupid question.
Yves looked at her with wide, wild eyes. The Vancouver chill still clung to him, radiating from his grey-tinged flesh. “The water was very cold. It’s been so long since I felt warm. So long... I didn’t know if I’d ever find this place again.”
She smiled ruefully. “It’s an easy place to find.” Even when you meant to stay away. She offered him a hand and rose. “Go to the temple,” she said, nodding toward the ivy-walled tower rising above the rooftops. “The priests can help you.”
“ Merci. ” His chapped, broken-nailed hands enfolded hers, colder than the stones beneath her feet. Even icy and wan as he was, his flesh seemed more substantial than hers—this was his home now, and she was only visiting.
“The King came for me, you see,” he said with a mad grin. “He wanted my soul. He showed me so many beautiful things... I saw the towers rise above the lost city. But I ran.” He bowed over her hand, dripping cold salt water onto her wrist. “Thank you for your kindness. Be careful—I see His shadow on you. I’ll pray for you and your friend at the temple.”
He walked away before Liz could ask him what he meant. She wiped her hand on her T-shirt and chafed her fingers, trying to decide if she should go after him. Before she could make up her mind, a man beside her spoke.
“You have a kind heart to speak so gently to strangers.” Tall and broad-shouldered, with skin the color of polished mahogany. He wore robes of white linen and his head was shaved. He studied her with heavy-lidded black eyes. “These dark times make men forget courtesy.”
“I knew him from the waking world,” she said, trying to keep her composure under the weight of his gaze.
“Ah.” His lips curled. “Not a stranger, then, but I think you have a kind heart nonetheless.” His voice was deep and rich, carefully measured as a stage actor’s.
“What do you mean, these dark times?”
He shrugged, and a golden brooch flashed on his breast. “Travelers bring rumors of monsters on the roads, rumors of slavers. Caravans from Carcosa ride through towns and people vanish in the night.”
“Carcosa?” It wasn’t a name she’d heard before, dreaming or awake.
“The city of Carcosa. Lost Carcosa, some call it. The roads that lead there have long been sealed, but there are always ways around such obstacles.”
Liz hugged herself. “Why does a lost city need slaves? And who is this King everyone keeps talking about?” And what did any of it have to do with
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