A Dream of a Friend Long Gone

A Dream of a Friend Long Gone

A Story by Michael Carr
"

I dreamt the other night that I met Death.

"

I dreamt the other night that I met Death. Not Death in his tall tale glory, cloaked in black and wielding a shining blade. Death incarnate. My friend John, who died two months ago in a fire.

 

The room where I sat was cold and dark. I felt if I spoke my voice would echo. The desolate blackness, like some ancient, frozen being, lost long ago in the void of time, held me in its form. I wore it on my sleeves, the blackness, the slime that trickled down my hands. But I was warm. At peace. Safe in the comfort of what I knew, what I hoped, was eternal.

 

Then came the light. A light not blinding, not so bright that I was forced to shield my eyes, but something translucent. A small door had opened, exposing a passageway to the place beyond. A figure passed through, leaving the doorway unguarded. As I watched the figure approach, I realized it was John.

 

He wore a white t-shirt and blue jeans, his hair tussled and outgrown. His face was solemn, unmoved. He did not glance upon me. He took a seat beside me without a sound. I watched him breathe slowly, calmly, his face unscathed, untouched from flames long dead. He joined his hands together. The skin of his hands was blackened and burnt, a sole trace of the inferno that took his life. He sighed. We sat shoulder to shoulder, side by side, surrounded by darkness. But what held me, the shadows on my skin, did not reach for John. The blackness surrendered in his wake, standing like cautious predators circling their prey but afraid to strike.

 

I spoke.

 

“What do we do when everything’s gone?”

 

John did not reply. A small smile crept across his face. He reached over and took my hands in his, holding them tight, and fire spread through me. A warmth, a blazing, wonderful life, flowed through my veins. A golden light emerged from John, lifting from his body, drawn from his chest. It grew in power, till I could see nothing but light. The shadows fled from my hands and into the corners of the room, huddled away from the shining glory.

 

Then John let go.

 

He stood before me and leaned in, touching my shoulder and patting it twice. Then he turned and made his way to the doorway.

 

The fire left and the darkness I wore crept back to me, latching to my form. The cloak I wore no longer felt safe, but smoldering, suffocating and cold, ice water against my skin. The warmth had vanished. John stood in the doorway, his body tense. He looked as though there was something he wanted to say, something to comfort the man he would leave alone in the silence, but he never had the chance. The door had already shut, cutting off the light from the world.

 

I called out for John, my friend long gone, but no one answered.

© 2012 Michael Carr


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This was simply wonderful Carr! What a great read, I am so thrilled that you sent this to me. However I think you should fix the end of, "Then I woke up" to something like, "I then had awoken . . . " it keeps the thought still lingering on and I think it would flow better, but bloody hell, over all it was a really well written! Chills down my spine!

Posted 15 Years Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.




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AG
i have to say, this is just awesome! it's dark and mind-gripping and conveys multitudes of emotions and pathos in such a concentrated manner.

there is fervent life in this tale of cold death and it really doesn't matter if there is no apparent exchange of dialogue, the introspective view of the characters simply makes this piece a work of art.

i guess my only negative comment would be word selection. i assume that you were going for a more contemporary feel by the time i read the first paragraphs but then everything seemed a tad poetic at the middle.

i suppose this is personal style and my view is just mine but who cares, right? this is great!

kudos to you.

Posted 15 Years Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.

Nice Mike, very damn nice. I gotta the descriptions are quite "wicked", if you will. That's a vivid damn dream, and the fact that you were able to recollect a dream with that much detail surviving your scattered, waking brain is impressive enough (although if I had such a telling dream I would probably jump from my bed and just start scribbling on a pad). I don't know man, I wish I could come up with something to criticize you on, so it doesn't look like I'm here lapping your...well, you get it, but I really can't think of much. The length was perfect, short, sweet, everything that we needed to know included in a few terse, yet descriptive paragraphs.

As far as the story, or I guess I should say "dream" goes, how interesting, and the question man, "What do we do when everything's gone", clutch dude, seriously clutch; I'm not sure I would have been able to muster such a question in such a situation. I don't know man, I haven't read your stuff in a long long time, and for that I apologize, but you continue to impress me. I think what I can really say is that you're shaking off some cobwebs you had when I was reading your stuff at 14. Still great stuff, but you're maturing along with your writing, and I can see that with this story right here.

One last thing I want to say is that this is a really easy situation, as far as the content goes, to get really cliche' and quite frankly, annoying. You've managed to stray from that, you kept it interesting, entertaining, and most importantly, original. I'll reference back to the question, which is the stock question "where do we go when we die"...the way you worded it was great though, because that question in its base form has been asked thousands and thousands of times, but you stick to the state of shock you're sort of in, instead of a complicated phrasing, you simply blurt it out, to no avail.

Overall great stuff, I guess work on your flow a little (I stress "a little"), don't be afraid of contractions, but overall you're honing the craft quite well, just don't get sucked into your words like a black hole (which you didn't here at all), be in control with what you write and you'll be the Arthur Rimbaud of the Cafe.

Posted 15 Years Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.

That was so very, very beautiful, my friend! It wasn't scary in the least, but more enlightening... at least, through my eyes and my own understandings.

The whole "Then, I woke up." finish was certainly a familiar ending I haven't seen in awhile. Thinking of having such dreams have obviously presented you with such inspiration... even if this dream is a true event... as ironic as that sounds.

Thank you very much for sending this to me, Michael. It's good to hear from you, and even more excellent to be welcomed back (after a slight hiatus) with such an amazing story as this.

Happy New Year.

Eternally Yours.

Posted 15 Years Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.

This was simply wonderful Carr! What a great read, I am so thrilled that you sent this to me. However I think you should fix the end of, "Then I woke up" to something like, "I then had awoken . . . " it keeps the thought still lingering on and I think it would flow better, but bloody hell, over all it was a really well written! Chills down my spine!

Posted 15 Years Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.

Wow Michael, this gave me goosebumps, an exceptionally scary read. A single typo, " the slime I that trickled" I know that "I" is lost. lol A great write friend.

Posted 15 Years Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.


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Added on January 12, 2009
Last Updated on May 1, 2012

Author

Michael Carr
Michael Carr

Prosper, TX



About
My name is Michael Carr. I'm 20 years old now, god help me, attending UTD on a full ride scholarship in the Biology pre-Med program. IF YOU ARE READING THROUGH MY WORK FOR THE FIRST TIME, PLEASE HE.. more..

Writing