Punctured

Resting my head on a pillow in my back yard on a hot summer night I looked up towards the sky and wasn’t able to find any of the constellations except for the “Big Dipper” and the “Little Dipper”. There were just too many stars out there and to be honest, I’m not that familiar with any of them. So, I decided to make up my own constellation—I will call it the “Starfish” constellation, and it rests just above the rim of the “Milky Way” galaxy and one of the stars aligns with the Moon and Venus.

I look towards a small pond that reflects the bright light of a full moon perfectly making the moon appear to have a twin, until a frog makes a splash severely disfiguring one of the twins.

I looked up again at the sky and felt a strong pull away from gravity and imagined that I was floating in space—and among the stars. Such peace and quiet was there, except for the beat of my heart that flooded my senses as I fell into a dark tunnel of sleep.

The dream began with a vat of boiling soup being mixed by someone in a dark hooded cloak. He seems to be confused about which herb to throw into the pot but before he could figure out what to do, a door swung open and a mist rolled into his house when suddenly he realized that he wasn’t alone.

Snowflakes drifted through the mist and the cloaked man was blinded by a brilliant light, and the air was so cold that he began to shiver. Dishes on a shelf began to rattle and then dropped to the ground, covering the floor with bits of broken glass.

The cloaked mans face became pale and his body became rigid and unmovable like a mountain. He wished that he could be like a caterpillar and crawl into a cocoon.

Finally, footsteps approached the shivering man but the view of the stranger was abstracted by the mist, but pastel colors were becoming apparent. On the floor a pool of red edged towards the man as he yelled “Who’s there?”

Suddenly the mist pulled back, the pool of red vanished towards the night, and the dishes came back together. The cloaked man closed and locked the door and then looked out his window with his eyes scanning back and forth until warmth from the boiling soup mingled with the frozen air. He lit a candle and placed it on a dingy table and then mixed up the soup some more.

Ancient books lined the wall and the man began to read a book on recipes as the steam from the soup escaped through a vent. With a feathered quill he scribbled notes on a blank page, and then removed the heavy pot from it’s grid with a twisted face placing it on the table.

After reading and scribbling he realized that the soup wasn’t missing anything, but he was…missing something. He seemed to have forgotten the stranger and the cold air, but his neck began to pulsate. Looking in the mirror, two holes on his neck are capped with dry blood. He examined it a bit, but his hunger outweighs his curiosity. Into a bowl he pours a delicious bowl of soup with plenty of garlic.

The dream faded as my eyes opened again and looked towards the sky. My neck was throbbing and I sat up quickly and touched my neck with my hand. I looked down towards my finger tips and didn’t see any blood. Even though I logically knew there was no such thing as vampires, I ran into my bathroom and noticed two punctures. I went back outside and looked around and over by the pond was a black and white “King” snake. I used some antibacterial cream on the wound and was happy that the world around me was free of mythical beings.