I know I've talked about dreams on this blog before but they are an important part of the inspiration that has created most of my novel ideas. But don't worry, I won't ramble too much about how great dreaming is and that I use them to develop the stories. Instead, I'm going to post a small segment of 2 different dreams I've had (embellished of course cause I do claim to be a writer) and then say which story they inspired. (Sorry if the post is long. I really struggle with brevity and that's why I write novels instead of flash fiction.)
"Target in sight," I whisper into the headset. Adjusting the blonde wig, my head aches. It is too tight but we can't have them falling off. I look back at my target. One of the Suits has the gem in his hand. "How should I take it?"
Ephram's voice comes to my ear. "How about a little dance, a song and a jump?"
I've gotta hand it to the boy, he still has a sense of humor. "No way. I'm not singing again."
"Come on," he adds a little whine, "it'll be fun."
Leanne interrupts. "Isaac, just go. We'll sing through the intercom and distract them."
There is a pause in waiting for them to act. Then the crackle happens, the system turning on, and out pours the refrain of the Suits song(dubbed by us), but not sung well. All heads turn up to the ceiling and it is my cue.
Now is not the time to reconsider. With a quick intake of air, I get off to a running start, grabbing the gem as I run by the group of Suits. One jumps in my way but I run straight through him not concerned at the awed reactions. That move always freaks people out.
I stop for a second at the edge of the cliff.
"Kid. You have no where to go." One Suit says, edging closer. His fear of me is obvious, the mutations scare everyone who doesn't have them. "Give us the stone back and..."
With a laugh I jump over the edge. To them it looks like I'm flying. The truth is, I can't fly. What I do is a graceful and very extended fall.
Novel = Tattle Tell (or well, the sequel to Tattle Tell because the idea for the sequel came first)
I couldn't believe it. There laying in the middle of this room surrounded by regular offices and a tanked up security system for what the humans claim is hazardous material, lies the woman I have dedicated my life to finding: the prophet. And she is nothing like the stories in those books I read as a child.
At first, I don't move, almost wondering if I had imagined the whole journey up the seven different flights to the one room, managing to do it without being caught. But after blinking a few more times I knew I had succeeded. Only then did I truly notice her.
Curled up on the ground on top of a human sized pet pillow, her features were hard to distinguish. Gray and white hair hides her face, flowing down past her hips almost like a blanket. I had expected female. I had expected power. And I had expected beauty. I hadn't expected age. Even asleep she looked old but in a graceful type of beauty that I've noticed human women with their shorter life spans desire. Then she stirs awake.
I have pulled the blade out, prepared to follow through with the plan but the sight before me stops any idea of action. In a fluid display of agility, the prophet rose and in a light glow of her aura washed down, her appearance changed. As if my presence, the nearness of the powers once harnessed, had brought her youth back to life. Gray hair turns brown, the color of dry soil but more appealing, and her skin smooths to perfect complexion. And yet, in her eyes I read despair and longing. She knew my purpose and longed for it. She was ready to escape the chains and faced death with open arms.
Novel = Blood Prophesy (better title coming later)
Have you had a dream inspire a story?
Share a dream with the rest of the bloggers that pass by? (if you want)