[Mkguild] Lil' dream sequence + writer's block (Yargh!)

[Kendo Virmir]

Hello!

I seem to be suffering from a touch of writer's block MK-wise (oh
no!).  To hopefully get my creative juices flowing again, I thought
I'd share a short scene I did manage to write a little while ago.
Though I'm not entirely sure where this is going to go, it will likely
be placed at the beginning of my third story.  If you're interested in
reading my previous two MK tales, they can be found at the following
links:

http://virmir.com/stories/to_steal_a_tome.php
http://virmir.com/stories/first_day.php

What follows is a nice little recount of  a dream by my main
character.  (Dreams are so much fun to write about, hehe...).  I am
generally pleased with how this turned out.  However, there is
something about this that I'm not comfortable with.  I'll say what it
is at the end.  See if you can guess!

----

(Unfinished work)
by Virmir


I had the oddest of dreams last night.

I wasn't sure where I was, as my surroundings were dark and blurry.
The figure before me was crystal clear, though.  It was me, as I
appear here now in Metamor.  Both a gray furred fox and a child.  He
wasn't me though, not as I am now at least, for he was also a child in
mind.  He ran towards me brandishing a simple wooden toy sword,
boyishly swinging it through the air.

"Let's play!  Let's play!"

His voice echoed as he spoke.  I remember that sword.  I played with
it quite a bit when I was a young.  Alone in the woods, I beat back
imaginary hordes of goblins, imps, and the like.  I never really had
anyone to play with.

In contrast to the child that resembled me, I was my normal human
self, how I was before the curses of Metamor and my own bumblings with
transformational spells.  Though I had no interest in playing with
children, I found that I had my own toy sword in my right hand.  So
just to humor the vulpine child, I parried his fake blow and lightly
tapped his wooden blade with my own.

"He he he he!" he giggled in delight, playfully blocking and striking
back.  Like me, he was no where near skilled with a blade, but it
certainly did not slow him down.  I found myself smiling at his
antics, and mine as well, as he had managed to break through my shoddy
defenses and lightly tap my legs a few times.

After a short time sword fighting, he dropped down on all fours and he
was simply a sliver furred fox, waging his black-tipped tail
excitedly.  There was no spectacular transformation, but rather it was
like the most natural thing in the world.  He was larger than a kit,
yet smaller than an adult, a lanky young adolescent.

"Let's play!  Let's play!"

Now he had a stick in his mouth.  (Perhaps the wooded sword had
transformed into the stick.) And he plopped this down at my feet, his
tail swishing to and fro.  Do foxes play even play fetch?  I tossed
the stick and he went for it, giggling excitedly.  He returned it with
a run that resembled a series of excited bounds.  I threw it again and
again.

At some point, he was bipedal again, and we mock fought some more with
the wooden swords.  Then he was fully a fox once more, and we played
fetch.  This continued back and forth.

I eventually realized I was no longer human, but I had become what I
am here now in Metamor and this fox child's identical twin.  Still we
played.  Back and forth with the sword fighting, then the fetching,
and so on.

Then somehow I was alone, but not really.  It was like the two of us
merged, and my mind was not my own.  I was fully a child both in body
and mind then, blissfully swinging my toy sword around without a care
in the world.  As a child, I loved my tail, my ears, and my fur.  They
were who I was, and I simply loved being.  I joyously twirled the
wooden blade around, reveling in the excitement of imagination.

I was not alone for long, for my replacement playmate was none other
than my grandfather.  I chased after him in childish glee.  He was
impossible to catch.  He seemed to fly backwards, his feet hovering
above the ground, his blinding white robes with their crimson flared
trimming flapping in the wind.  Then he waved his hand and I fell
forward, running on all fours.  I was entirely a fox once more, just
as he had done to me when we met so many years ago.

Then it was my turn to fetch, and I did so with utmost enthusiasm.
Chasing the stick as it flew though the air was simply the most
exciting and satisfying thing in the world.  And once I had taken the
precious wood in my teeth, I returned it as quickly as possible so
that I might experience it one more time.

The dream was too broken up beyond that point.  There was no startled
wake up in the middle of the night.  I didn't even remember it until a
few hours after breaking fast actually.  I never put too much thought
into dreams, as they are generally a tangled mess of random
subconscious thoughts and other nonsense.  Degrading as it is though,
I do find my mood brightened just by thinking about it.  I thought I
would write it down so that I might remember it years from now.

----

Did you catch it?

If you thought "Hey, that's kinda like how Hough and Madog play
fetch," then I think I should change it.  I don't really want to draw
that parallel.  If not, then maybe I'm okay. I've been reading a lot
of Mr. Matthias' work lately (still pressing through the archives!),
and my subconscious must have written that in there, hehe. Though I
wanted to nod to previous works in my first story, it's time to move
away from that. Opinions?

Thanks!

-- 
- Virmir
http://virmir.com