Dream Fishing

"Da, I got one!"

Bannibrandt braced his leg on the pier as his fishing pole arced toward the surface of the shimmering dream water. Deep down, a cloudy shadow pulled away from him with increasing strength.

“Two hands, boy, or you’ll lose it.”

Horst popped an almond in his mouth and secured his own fishing rod—making sure to leave the line cast in case of another bite—and hobbled to where his son struggled with his own.

“Be the shadow, Ban. Feel the hook in your mouth, the panic overwhelming you.”

“I’m trying!” Red-faced Bannibrandt cranked the reel. His rod bent lower and lower until it dipped into the drink.

“Don’t reel when it’s pulling away from you. You’ve got to tire him out. Tug-o-war, just like I taught you. Reel when he’s too tired to fight.”

With a zing! the line took off as Bannibrandt lost his grip on the crank.

“Oh no!”

The handle spun so fast it was impossible to catch hold again. Until it the line ran out and it stopped. For a split second, Bannibrandt pulled the rod.

SNAP!

The boy stumbled backwards, and, catching his heel on an uneven board, fell into the waves.

The old fisherman hid a smile as he pulled his son out by the collar. Shimmering liquid dripped from the drenched boy, puddling on the timbers around his bare feet.

“Aw, I broke your fishing pole.” Bannibrandt stared at the pieces of rod that floated where he had fallen.

“It’ll be alright,” Horst said. “The important thing is to build more. You’ll always have a backup, if you do.”

He wrapped a towel around his son’s shoulders and hugged him to his side.

“Whose dream did you fall into?” he asked.

“Some girl’s. She was kissing a frog. It was gross.”

“Ha! Even so, no nightmares?”

“It was almost blinding in there, it was so bright.”

Horst slipped another almond between his lips. “Hmm. No accismus then. Good.”

The boy’s eyebrows went sky-high. “Ax what?”

“Accismus. It’s when the humans aren’t genuine. Out of fear, or greed, or cunning manipulation. It’s one of the reasons the shadows exist.”

The click of Horst’s fishing reel caught their attention. The line moved in circles through the water, making the rod twitch as the circles got bigger.

“Looks like we got another one. Quick, get the cage!” Horst attended the pole while Bannibrandt opened a mesh box and set it beside his father.

The old fisherman set the hook and fought the shadow with ease and patience, his experienced hand a stark contrast to his son’s. Before long, he reeled in the shadow and scooped it up with a net.

Horst dumped the cloudy shadow, writhing and shrieking, into the cage. It lashed out with a cloudy arm as Bannibrandt closed the top.

“Whew, that was close,” Bannibrandt said, backing away.

“Great job, Ban. We’ll make a proper dream fisher out of you yet!”

Bannibrandt knelt to get a closer view of the shadow. It had shrunk, and now looked like a dollop of tar, huddled there in a corner of the cage. Smelled like it, too. But it purred like a kitten.

“Not so scary out here, is it?” Horst asked. He chewed on another almond.

“Won’t they die outside the dreams?”

“No, most of them are docile out here. They gain their power from the people they feed on. When seen for what they really are, well, see?”

Bannibrandt pet the shadow with his finger. It reacted to his touch and snuggled against him. There was a flash inside the shadow, and a small image played.

Bannibrandt watched the scene unfold: a teenage boy stood on the stoop of an old house, a dozen red roses in hand. He offered them to a beautiful girl, who threw them on the floor and stomped on them. The boy trudged away, head hanging low. Then, the girl called out to him, ran after him. But she could never catch up. The scene changed: an old woman in a rocker, holding the portait of a young man. There was no ring on her finger; there never was.

The image faded.

Bannibrandt stood. “When we catch these little guys, the humans go back to regular dreams, right, Da? The girl who dreamt this will sleep better now?”

Horst had stepped away from the cage and gazed into the sunset. A dark cloud gathered and moved toward the pier.

“Bad weather’s coming, isn’t it?”

“There is no bad weather. Only bad clothing.” Horst winked.

“What?”

“Something my granddad used to say. Grab your rain jacket out in the shed. The quicker you catch you your first shadow, the quicker you can have some of grandma’s Kvæfjordkake.”

Bannibrandt grinned. “Those shadows are doomed!”

Sweet.

[removed]

Thanks so much for reading. I posted one more part. Gonna be busy for a while so this might be it from Cut Cut and associates for this prompt.

A love poem where every remark about the other person is an insult. (“10 Things I Hate About You” and Sonnet 130 are perfect examples)

Roast

Nuy dam you didn't have to Rast me

[removed]

Reguardless, you're good.

That's awesome, thank you 😀

Rest easy, Maddie.

Good job.

Brings her to pond:

S: This must one of your lakes.

OC: Nope. Pond.

Brings her to small forest stream

S: Ahh yes a River.

OC: No this is a stream.

Brings her to Lake Michigan

S: Ocean?

OC: Wrong again!

It WAS a pretty good prompt, but it ain’t right to just steal it 3 weeks later.

Wait AT LEAST 6 months (preferably a year) and repost it then WITH CREDIT!

(Thanks for finding the original mate)

Epic, thank you 😀

"Try to cut less of them completely in half, Captain. They make more useful thralls when they can walk."

"An excellent suggestion, number two. I shall modify my attack routines appropriately."

"Local Sanitization Complete."

The coherent crew members of the SS Polaris (the engineering crew had stayed behind to oversee repairs on the ship,) had journeyed deep into the alien vessel. The number of undead alien thralls that had joined their ranks had swollen to over a dozen. They lacked the fine motor function to use their blasters as intended, opting instead to use them as blunt instruments.

"The physiology of these creatures is fascinating! Their lifeblood is particularly potent. Commander Suck, please present for upgrade."

"Suck, at your service, Captain."

The Captain began chanting and moving all six of his arms rhythmically as the blood of the seven or so nearby alien corpses rose into the air and swirled about him in a tempest of gore.

"Shalen val mortis shalen val het. Shalen val el at poliqua zen!"

The buoyant blood transfigured into a fine black dust, issuing a faint crimson glow. It rushed toward Commander Suck and fused with his every atom.

"Upgrade complete, Captain."

"Indeed, Commander. You now should be able to remotely drain the life energy from our vict- our enemies."

"So glad you caught yourself there, Captain."

The captain turned to his First Officer.

"The energy siphoned from our enemies will be transferred to you. It should make your abilities more acute. Onward!"

The captain sprinted forward, casually cutting an alien in half lengthwise as he passed when it emerged from what appeared to be a latrine, apparently completely ignorant to the situation.

They passed through a blast door and it sealed shut behind them. A contingent of no less than a hundred alien soldiers was waiting for them behind barricades, with their weapons raised.

"Commander Suck, if you wouldn't mind."

"Initiating suck routine gamma, Captain."

The lights dimmed and the First Officer watched in horror as each and every alien shriveled up before his eyes, their life energy flowed at incredible speed into Commander Suck.

Then, all at once, it transferred to him.

The First Officer could hear the hearts beating in every alien on board. He knew how many there were. Knew where they were.

"Status report, number two?"

"437 enemies remain onboard captain. Most are armed. The bridge is just beyond the next blast door. There are 15 enemies inside."

"Suck is ready to clean."

It has been two hours, and Akarashk is still lying on his back like a dead thing.

"I told you."

He doesn't reply. His grayish lids have peeled back from all four eyes, both the scaled outer shells and both nictitating membranes keeping their precious water inside. I've never seen him so stunned, barely breathing, as if the slightest flinch would wake him from the dream. The only motion I can see is his unsheathed tongue flicking at the droplets rolling into his leathery mouth.

Well, I'm used to it, and I'm wet. I wrap my arms around myself and shiver. He hasn't even checked in with the orbiting mothership, though I'm sure whatever cameras they have to watch him have the whole crew gawking and laughing in that huff-huff-huff sound I've heard so much of on the way to Earth. Or, maybe they're all shocked, too. The readings on their computers were flailing wildly about how much water Earth contained, and half of them had cracked up at how silly it seemed. The other half was trying to repair the sensor array all the way here.

There were no repairs needed, as it turned out. "Akarashk," I say with a barely restrained laugh, and I poke him with my foot. "You can get up now. I've been reading books in Khri for so long that my head is spinning, and I'm cold, and my eyes hurt from looking at my arm-comp screen." The screen is tiny, and Khri is a tough language to wrap my substantially softer mouth around, but really I just want to get some dry underwear on and show this reptilian creature what a lake is.

His upper eyes roll to look at me, and they glisten in a strange way I have never seen before. Usually, those inner membranes keep them dull and lifeless, but now they look like flowers emerging into spring. The silvery, iridescent sheen ripples in the clouded light.

"This is," and he says a word it takes a moment for me to translate as paradise. "If only it were not so inhabited. We are much too late."

"Yeah, if you guys uncloak yourselves, you'll cause worldwide chaos. But hey, you want to see Lake Michigan? It's one of the biggest lakes on this landmass." I try to speak slowly -- my Khri accent is horrible -- but he clearly gets the message: lots of water. All those sparkling eyes light up even further.

"Yes!" he says with a hurried, informal flap of his tongue. "Show me! Now!"

"Well, it's about a kilometer walk that way." I jerk my thumb off to my right, through the woods.

"Now!" He scrambles to his clawed feet and launches into a full sprint. I laugh and run behind, yelling for him to put up his human hologram before something silly happens.

​

He completely ignores me and leaps into the lake at maximum velocity, which for a Khrithes is a brisk human jog. Two half-drunk men fishing from a nearby boat give him a double-take, at which point I take a deep breath, whip off my shirt, and jump in after.

It takes a while to convince the two guys that Akarashk is wearing a costume, but I manage. In the end, they putter away while he scoops up armfuls of lake water as if he can hoard it all and carry it home. They'll probably tell others a crazy guy in a lizard suit went swimming, and people will pshaw at them and ignore them, so...good enough? I scan the area for any more boats as he plays like a kid at a water park.

"It's really cold."

"Look!" Completely ignoring me, he turns and splashes water over his head, looking for all the world like a toddler.

"Okay, look. You can't just go running in front of humans like this. Here." I bend down and fuss with his arm-comp, until it projects a hologram around him. Now he looks short but at least human. "You're still swimming in your clothes, but...good enough."

"This is Lake Michigan?"

"Yep. Really, it's nothing special here on Earth, except that it's big." I slop back onto shore and huddle up against the rain. "We have a whole ton of water all over. And yeah, those blue patches when you showed up? That's water, too. Except they're salty, because erosion filters a whole ton of salt into them. We can't drink them without purifying them."

Halfway through that explanation, he clearly stopped listening, as he has sat down in the lake until it reached his skinny shoulders. His scales are puffy and waterlogged, but he doesn't seem to care, leaning back and closing his eyes and spreading out his arms, his teeth all bared in glee and his tongue tasting the sky as if he has died and gone to heaven.

This is really wonderful! Do you have plans to write more? I'd love to read all the different eulogies and anecdotes from people that knew Captain Liberty.

"The journey was long and arduous," I eased back into my seat. As badly as I wanted to remain locked to my daughter's face, I couldn't help but stare off into space as memories rushed through my mind. "Ogres, Fairies, trolls; all manners of beasts, battles and trials hindered my path before I even reached the border. It was THERE where I met with your uncle Kinoq, and we fought for the first time..."

"Wait," She interjected. "You FOUGHT with Kinoq?!"

I grinned with some honest pride. "FOUGHT him...? I'm the one who scarred his eye!" I drew my finger over my right eye for emphasis.

Her look fo shock and disbelief melted after a moment into a look of sheer doubt. "No way, Humans are nowhere near strong enough to fight Dragons!"

I rolled my shoulders a bit in response. "You may not believe this, but your father really WAS pretty good with a sword, back in the day..." I nodded concedingly. "But yes, your Uncle beat me. Scarred my arm up something fierce in the process too!" I held out my left arm. Though the muscles and skin had all long since been healed, slashes and burn marks still covered my forearm. "Everything I knew, everything we humans had been taught told me I was as good as DEAD! For you see, pinned under his massive claws, my sword knocked out of reach, my shield sundered and scorched, I knew I was defenceless, and this dragon was going to eat me."

"Ewwww!" Kalinda gagged and retched in an overly dramatic display of disgust. "Dragons ATE people back then...?!"

I recoiled to match her horror. "No, they didn't. But we humans thought they did."

"Wha? Why?!" she sat up, as if to protest the past itself.

I gently eased her back into bed. "Hey, this is supposed to be a BEDTIME story, you're supposed to be drifting to sleep." I shook my head as I sat back down. "Honestly, I'm still not exactly sure. Perhaps it was to continue the lies that the dragons were evil, maybe to hide the truth of what happened to all the expeditions into the Dragonlands, who knows? But he didn't eat me..."

"Obviously." she remaked to echo my saying the word.

"My Heart, if you want me to ever finish this story, maybe you should stop interrupting...." She stuck out her forked tongue, but lay back and pulled up the covers silently. "So Then, Kinoq opens his mouth wide, but instead of eating me, or burning me with his flames, his voice boomed, 'WHY ARE YOU HERE, HUMAN?!'" I roared with grandeur.

Kalina giggled, and all the world seemed to vanish in that one perfect moment.

"Where was I...? Oh, so I told him 'I have been charged by His Majesty, King Dorian, to broker peace with your KIND' I spit in my anger. 'But I am bested, do with me what you will...!'

"Kinoq stared at me in silence, for what seemed like an eternity, before he kinda snapped his jaws to the side in uncertain disgust..."

"He was talking with mommy!" Kalinda's thoughts projected into my mind.

I shot her a sideways glance. "You KNOW I can't do that, Kalinda." Her gaze fell in shame, but I lifted her face. "...But yes, he, as one of the gaurds of the border, was reporting to his sister, and though he was visibly displeased, he did what he was told. He clutched me in his claw and flew off to here," I waved around the room. "The broodmother's lair...."

"Bleh, please don't call mommy that, its gross!"

"Sorry, sweetness."

She harrumphed but continuned listening.

"Kinoq's words roared through the sky. 'VERY WELL, HUMAN. OUR SPEAKER WILL HEAR YOU.'

"I was stunned. Not only did this dragon not kill me, but he was HELPING me on my quest?!"

"Yeah, it checks out that Kinoq never liked you..." the princess giggled.

"Hey, I told you to stop interrupting." I replied as I laughed with her. "Yeah, long as I've known him, Kinoq has been a grumpy old bastard.

"Anyway, I watched the land sail by under us as he flew farther and farther north. After something like an hour, We circled the Volcano and he set me down with surprising care. 'You'll have to forgive Kinoq,' a voice gently spoke behind me. I turned around, and there stood something I will always only be able to describe as a vision of pure beauty.

"Her long, auburn hair fluttered behind her, and her piercing blue eyes seemed so deep you could fall into them and never reach the bottom, yet they also seemed to drill straight into the depths of your soul. As Kinoq flew off to return to his patrols, her hair and pure white dress flared behind her, making her look almost ethereal in her beauty, though she remained still despite her thin frame, and I struggled to not fall to all fours from the displaced air.

As the wind died down from Kinoq's departure, I realized she had been talking. 'Uh,' I uttered in bewilderment, 'I'm sorry, what did you say there?'

She laughed, and I swear I could feel the reverberations of her laughter in my heart and soul so tangibly, I almost fell to my knees again. 'Sorry,' she continued after a moment. 'I'm not used to dealing with other humans lately.' She strode up to me and offered me her hand.

'I said that Kinoq is a tad...... rugged, but he's a fine and stalwart guardian, and he will not harm you, you have my word.'

"I took her hand and stood upright, forgetting myself a moment, before kneeling in reverence. 'Forgive me, my lady, I did not..... expect this speaker to be another human, I am Ser Parson. Thank you for granbting me this audience, madam....?'

"'Bethandra.' she replied with quite possibly the most awkward curtsey I have ever seen. 'And please rise, Ser Parson,

"'We have much to discuss....'"

​

-----End of Part one(?)-----

"Ugh....." She sighed and rolled her eyes at me. "Dad, I hate this story..."

I couldn't help but smile gently at her protests. "My dearest Kalinda," I whispered as Ibrushed a lock of her shimmering crimson hair from her face. "This isn't just the sappy story of your father falling in love with your mother..."

"But it IS that, isn't it?" she grumbled with a sneer.

I laughed, honestly more heartily and I meant to. "You are most definitely your mother's daughter!" I cradled her cheek in my palm, her scaly patches cold compared to the human skin covering most of her face. "Yes, that is part of it," She tossed her head back against the pillow in frustration. "BUT!" I hastily added, "It's more a story about how YOU made the world a better place."

She lay still in her bed a moment before tilting her face oh so slightly to barely meet my gaze. "....I'm listening..."

"Some many years ago, in the southern kingdoms, a valiant knight, Parson, was in the dueling finals of the Assesment Tourney." I adopted a battle stance to emphasize my point. "The King Regent nodded to Parson, a longtime friend and protector of his. They had known each other since they were but children. Parson had taught him much of swordmanship, and vailiantly defended him in his budding rule against many an assassin...."

"I KNOW, dad!" Kalinda kicked her sheets. "You were the world's greatest swordsman, countless battles, never lost a fight, blah blah blah..."

I chuckled. "Sorry Princess, you know your father tends to ramble..." She just sternly glared at me, but her attion was obviously rapt with how focused her gaze was. "...So, yes I won the last duel to win the Toruney. I kneeled as the King Reagent strode over to me and offered him my sword. He took it and charged me with the most difficult quest, for scoring the highest in the assesments." My grin couldn't help but fade as I thought of it. I wonder what He would say if he could see how that quest had all turned out. "Our kingdom had long been at war with the Dragons to the North, many skirmishes had resulted in countless casualties between the two civilizations," I grit my teeth, some bitterness that never left after all these years. "Including my father..."

Kalinda's yellow eyes widened, and her reptilian irises shone as she watched me. "....you never told me that..."

I drew a long breath to settle myself. "I know. But if you are really going to know the story, it is important that you know ALL of it..." I lightly gripped her hand and gave a loving squeeze. "I don't regret anything from this story, because in the end it all led to you and your mother. But part of growth is pain, and though I grew from my journey, it came from a place of hatred and anger."

Her tail swished slowly under her covers in wonder. "You used to HATE dragons...?"

I forced a smile to her, but her face told me she could call my bluff, yet she chose not to. "I did. Back then, we were conditioned through stories and propaganda that the dragons were at all out war with us, and only by a strong military front were the knights and soldiers of our kingdom, your grandfather included, able to hold the dragon horde back so the citizens could enjoy some semblance of peace."

Honestly I think the best job for Loki would be a movie star.

"Are you religious?"

Ben turned and looked toward the voice and found his coworker, Rachel. She was relentless in her friendliness, despite his best efforts to dissuade her.

"Sorta, why do you ask?"

"You're just always looking up at the sky, I thought you might be praying or something."

"Oh."

Rachel awkwardly hovered as she waited a response, but Ben simply picked up his broom and resumed sweeping the floor. It was the lull after the lunch rush and before dinner, so any cleaning that wasn't done now would never get complete. As he gathered dust from the corners of the room, he gripped the broom with all his might. He felt familiar grooves from the last time he squeezed this tightly, reinforced by the time before that, and before that.

He found the punishment laughable at first. Life? That's the best he could do? But from the moment he emerged from his "mother" he knew he was in for more than he bargained for. It was the most traumatic experience of his immortal life; he couldn't see, couldn't breathe, and couldn't even move. He was so helpless. And the nightmare never stopped.

His parents immediately sensed something was wrong with him. He was speaking within 6 months, and not just English. He practiced hundreds of languages, and began experimenting with advanced computations just to see what he was capable of. His rage at his new limitations blinded him to his parents growing discomfort. Before he knew it, he woke up from a nap to find himself in front of an orphanage with no means of escape.

It was the awareness that made it hell. His fellow orphans were at ease in their ignorance, running and playing as if there was nothing to worry about. Ben could find no escape in mere toys or games as he grew to understand the exact nature of his predicament. No adult would take him seriously, and no child would understand him. He couldn't kill his flesh without knowing the ramifications for such an action. Thus, he waited, pretending to be a child on the outside while screaming with the agony of a thousand lost lives on the inside.

He bounced between the orphanage and foster homes until he was 18, before he was finally allowed to live on his own. That was the first time he felt joy since awaking in his prison, for now the constraints of immaturity released him. He would continue his work as man, the work his creator so vehemently opposed. That would be the ultimate vengeance. But even that was so much harder than he imagined. He needed money to eat, to sleep, and ultimately care for his confines. Who knew what awaited him if his body died? But this?

Serving the lowliest of the low. Feeding them their slop. Sweeping up their filth. He used to fly across the sky, now he toiled in the dirt. However, he doubted any job would be much better.

The sounds of struggling pulled him away from his regrets. He looked up to see Rachel trying to pull a massive bag of trash out of the bin. The bag swelled and stuck to the sides of it container, refusing to yield. Benjamin set down his broom and walked over to her. With one hand he held the bin, and the other he pulled the bag free. Rachel gave a mock cheer but he didn't indulge her, instead grumbling his way to the door. He pushed the back door open and slammed it behind him. He threw the trash into the dumpster, allowing himself the smallest outburst of rage, and glared at the sky.

"You are no god."

Ben growled under his breath.

"And I'll prove it."

Swizzled nizzles indeed....

I freeze, not knowing what to say.

See, you are only good as long as you find appropriate jobs for Gods. Our family business have been thriving because my ancestors made some very wise decisions.

Like the time my great-great-grandma gave Odin the job of Santa, and gave Chernobog the job of Krampus.

Or when my Grandpa gave Ares the job of the German Chancellor in 1933.

However, the cost of messing up is very high. We nearly went out of business when my great-great-great-great-great-granduncle (is that even a word?) gave Dionysus the job of the French King. The resulting revolution threw Europe in disarray and completely destroyed our credibility for the next 50 years.

It is for this reason I dread Loki.

Dude has been a failure at every single job we found him in the last 200 years.

My father found him a job in real estate. He failed, spectacularly. Where most people fail once, he failed so many times that it boggles my mind.

We sit and discuss. As always, Loki is unwilling to hear anything I have to say. He always thinks he knows best.

Out of frustration, I suggest reality TV. His histrionics will be right at place there.

To my surprise, Loki agrees. He gets up and leaves.

I heave a sigh of relief. I am just glad to be rid of his obnoxious presence.

I was getting ready to go to my son’s ball game when I see Loki at the door again.

It’s been 10 years since that fateful meeting. Last I heard his show was doing well.

Predictably, Loki ended up failing again. He tells me his show is getting canceled.

I am taken aback but not really surprised. I call my wife, letting her know I’ll be late, then sit down for an unpleasant, unpleasant conversation with Loki.

We do the dance where I try to make him see reason and he discards whatever he say.

Finally, in a moment of weakness and frustration, I scream out: “What DO you want? To be the president?”

Ironically, this seems to appeal to him. Loki gets up and leaves.

As he leaves, the reality of what just happened dawns on me. This will be worse than the French revolution!! My family will never survive this!

I shudder.

It has been a year, and I do not know what to say.

Loki, the failed God, the failed real estate guy, the failed reality tv star is having a stellar campaign for the presidency!!

He says the most outrageous things, which should normally make him a parriah, but the audience laps it up!!

Sometimes, he says things just in jest, or to see how much he can lie and get away with, and his audience still keeps cheering!!

I don’t even know what’s happening.

Tomorrow is Loki’s inauguration. He won the election when no thought he will! Looks like he is our next president!

I shudder to think what President Loki would do.

Personally, I can’t complain though. Even since the election results came out, our business number has been ringing non-stop.

Bring her to east Wisconsin to see lake Winnebago on your way to lake Michigan and the other great lakes...

Thank you, I'm really glad you liked it!