He passes, unseen, through the early morning market. Cloaked in shadow, slipping between the stalls, none mark him for what he is. Only the dead eyes of the morning’s catch notice that he is more than shade – but their time for talking is long gone, and so it doesn’t matter.

Even he doesn’t know quite why he comes here still. The ghosts of his past cause as much pain as pleasure and yet he is drawn here day after day, into the misty dawn light, to watch the life that should have been his play out in the hands of others.

His new life – if you can call it a life – is made of darker things. Things that don’t belong in this place of sleepy cheer. The rush of the morning tide pushes at the docks nearby: and unheard warning that there is something here that doesn’t belong.

Breathing in the bite of the salt laden air brings with it a wave of melancholy: a reminder that after today, there will be nothing to return to.

He casts a last, mournful glance at the familiar faces and closes his eyes as the screaming begins.

***

“You’re a storyteller. Dream up something wild and improbable,” she pleaded. “Something beautiful and full of monsters.”

Strange The Dreamer by Laini Taylor

Inspired by Erin Morgenstern’s Flax-Golden Tales, I have decided to embark on my own creative writing blog series, “Wild & Improbable Tales”, as a way to write more freely and more frequently. At least once a week, I will choose a card at random from The School Of Life‘s ‘Small Pleasures’ box and use the image and/or writing on the back to inspire a short piece of creative writing. I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments.