Dreams that do come true can be as unsettling as those that don't.

[goddessnanshe.livejournal.com]

Wednesday, sometime, somewhere in Dream

Once upon time there was a beautiful princess. Her hair was the colour of jet and her skin was the colour of nutmeg, and each of her teeth were like pearls. Flowers grew where she walked, so that the fields around the tower that was her home was carpeted in blooms as white as snow. The princess was very happy, all save for one thing: her fear that one day the thorn of one of the flowers would prick her. Her servants combed the field for thorns every day, trimming the stems so that it would be safe for her to walk. But still the princess was afraid, and she neglected to notice that each month the forest encroached closer on her home, until one day, standing in her field of flowers, she looked up to see the trees looming around her, undergrowth thick with thorns. Frightened, she fled inside, and as she ran she began her first bleeding, and the blood that trickled down her thigh fell to the earth and stained the roses around the tower a deep and brilliant red.

Inside the tower the princess was afraid that she was dying, for her father had always insisted that royal blood was the most precious of all things and must never be spilled. Weeping, she showed the blood to her old nurse, who laughed and kissed her cheek and told her this was the secret gift of women, and now she was blessed. So the princess wiped her eyes, and was no longer afraid of bleeding. But the thorns of the forest came for her all the same.

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[lei-miao-shan.livejournal.com]

This is not how it is meant to be.

It is an old story, old as time, old as memory. The girl in the cave, her only friend a fish, until that fish is killed by her father's jealous second wife, devoured by her greed and her ugly daughter. And the first girl, the kind and lovely girl, she weeps for her fish until he visits her in a dream, telling her to wish upon his bones for her heart's desire, and it will come to her.

An old story. Old as the sky.

But Yeh-Shen would not follow that story. Yeh-Shen was stolen from me by these folk with their tales of towers and princesses, with their skin turned to stone and their blood in my water, the blood which clogged my gills and filled my stomach. They left me, alive and needing to die, in that fouled pool, circling and crying for Yeh-Shen and my death.

It took much time for me to dig my way through the blood-thickened mud, through the roots and worms, until I tasted the salt of the river. But time has no meaning here...we are young as our years here and old as time. And now I am here, nourished on blood, filled with the salt, my mouth as great as a cavern, and I feel her, my Yeh-Shen. She is suffering pain that was not meant for her, pain that these others have brought with them, and rage floods me, flashing in my eyes.

Movement catches me. Movement of a silver-spotted seal with a golden toy in its mouth, rushing for the surface. Movement of one of them, one of those who brought time and pain and wrongness here. I send bombing water through my gills and my mouth gapes like a void, and I rush after it. If I am to be nourished on blood, let it be their blood, now and forever.

[syl-thorn.livejournal.com]

Y'know, 'f all th'ways I thought'd go, thought't least it'd be somethin' a li'l more dignified'n gettin' swallowed by a giant goldfish.

Comes after me hard'n fast, mouth like a whirlpool, tail like a dragon's, annit's way bigger'n me, big 'nough t'swallow me whole. I swim hard'n I swim fast, but't's right on m'tail annit's 'tween me'n th'surface. An' th'big diff'renc 'tween'is river'n th'ocean izzat'ere's fewer places t'go. I swim had, an'I swim fast, but th'fish has th'advantage on me an'I clench m'teeth t'keep from screamin' azzis jaws clamp down on m'tail.

'is teeth 're small, an'ey's blunt, but't's like gettin' crushed 'tween two rocks. Bones crunch, 'n blood flows, an'I struggle 'n thrash 'n clamp m'jaws on th'shinin' thin't's still callin' fer me. Oh Jesus, Jesus 't hurts, an'm bleedin', an'I taste th'blood'n th'water an' m'second heart pounds -

"May it choke you!"

I 'member bein' scoured 'tween m'thighs, chokin' on blood, but'ere's no one t'help me now, no one bathin'n blood 'long side me. Wake up, hunt-sister! Y'gotta wake up!

Hardly even know what'm sayin' 're thinkin'. Only thin't makes sense izzat I can't fight wit' somethin' holdin' m'weapons back, so I do th'only thin' I can. I swallow th'shiny thin', feel't trace a fiery trail down m'throat, an'I whip m'body back, teeth slicin' through scales, crunchin' fragile fishy bones. Feel'n eyeball pop 'tween m'molars. Yes. See if'n y'c'n take't's well's y'dish't out.

[lei-miao-shan.livejournal.com]

It is quick, and it is strong, but I am larger and stronger and I was made for life beneath the waves, I am no half-thing as it is. I feel a burst of pleasure as its bones crunch betwixt my jaws. The copper taste of blood is a joyous thing now, and I hold tigher. I will squeeze its life out, I will pulp it between my jaws, and I will swallow its guts. I will make it pay for destroying our story, my Yeh-Shen.

But its body twists in my mouth, and razors slice the thin flesh over my skull. I thrash in pain, shaking its body, but its teeth are like demons, and the water clouds with my blood. My gills flutter with agony as one of my eyes go dark. It hurts, my Yeh-Shen! Death was not meant to be such pain! Yeh-Shen! My Yeh-Shen!

[syl-thorn.livejournal.com]

M'lower bodies a mass'a splinters'n broken glass, but m'teeth still work jes' fine. They slice through sweet fish flesh, crunch through splintery bone, an' m'eyes 're clouded wit' blood. But m'teetb sheer smooth through golden scales, an' th'fish spasms, 't's jaws loos'nin' 'round m'body. Free!

Swimmin's agony, but m'lungs 're ready t'burst from lack'a air. I been down too long. I swim hard fer th'surface, m'belly twistin' 'round th'shinin' thing, m'second hard thund'rin' m'chest, an'I know th'great fish's risin' wit' me, but nowwit's body's limp annit's makin' th'river run red. I break th'surface witta scream, m'nostrils unsealin'n suckin' down air, an'I throw m'self on th'bank. M'skin's been ripped inna way't ain't meant t'be torn, an' m'sides heave like a bellows.

[lei-miao-shan.livejournal.com]

I am dying now, Yeh-Shen.

I was not drawn onto the shore, my gills flapping uselessly. I was not skinned, not boiled in a pot. Instead my skull has been split, and the water is too fouled for me to breath, and my eyes have gone blind. But still, Yeh-Shen, I am dying. At least in that respect, I have been true to our story.

I feel my body break the surface of the water. The heat and the dryness are too much for me to bear, and I spasm uselessly. Yeh-Shen, Yeh-Shen, where are you? Yeh-Shen, come and weep over me. Moisten my scales with your tears, bury me in soft pots of earth in the dark and the damp. Yeh-Shen, Yeh-Shen, come wish upon my bones.

[sapphira-ststep.livejournal.com]

Oh her skin... it's terrible, lost and gusting, and I kneel next to her. I don't know what to do, I can work leather and cloth but it's different when there's a heart beating beneath. And still I cannot very well do nothing, so I begin to piece together the edges of her as best I can.

[syl-thorn.livejournal.com]

Th'air's cold'n dry, m'flesh's raw where m'skin's torn. 'm tryin' t'move m'tail, but't ain't workin' like't should. Christ, I hurt. I hurt, fuck, fuck, I hurt. But I ain't got time t'lie 'ere'n dwell onnit.

Somebody's touchin' me, tuggin' th'ragged edges'a m'skin t'gether. S'a nice thought, but't ain't what I need right now. Manage t'roll 'way from'er, onto th'sand, and writhe hard, grindin' grit inta m'wounds. Writhe 'n wriggle 'til I feel m'skin split an'I manage t'haul m'self free. 'm drenched 'n blood, m'belly's heavy wit' th'golden egg, 'ere's shreds'a fish meat 'tween m'teeth an' m'legs're shattered b'low th'knee. But I got places t'go.

Roll over 'gain, m'skin tangled 'round m'crushed legs. See Kate an' th'woman wit'out a face. "Get me t'th'tower."

[kateohara.livejournal.com]

"Oh, Syl," I say, watching her slide out of her seal skin. Her legs are broken.

"Get me t'th'tower."

I don't ask how we're meant to do that, and I don't ask about the egg.

"I think we can make a stretcher out of things in the boat," I say, wading into the water to where we left it, and I find two long poles and some thick canvas. I wrap (http://www.simplesurvival.net/stretchers.htm) the cloth around the poles, and carefully, carefully, we roll Syl onto it. I know it must hurt her, but she doesn't complain. And we start a slow and painful walk from the shore through the woods.

[syl-thorn.livejournal.com]

Th'bones'n m'legs grind t'gether's 'ey roll me onto a stretcher, lashed t'gether outta trees 'n cloth. I grit m'teeth an'I don't cry out. I feel ev'ry bump's 'ey drag me through th'forest, annit feels like broken glass'n m'limbs, but I don't scream. I know'ey's doin'eir best, an'I can't says't'd do much better in'eir shoes. Th'egg 'n m'belly burns, like've swallowed a live coal. Allat matters's gettin' t'th'tower, I know'at deep'n m'blood, 'n m'broken bones. Allat matters's gettin'ere. Even th'shadow overhead don't seem t'count fer much.

[sapphira-ststep.livejournal.com]

The rain is drumming down drenching, and the water seeps into the wood, leaves my palms rubbing raw against it. My arms are aching, as they were when I was dragging Tess up the beach in her net, but we are getting closer to the tower. And I see the woman striding out with her sword, to face the enemy, and I can see how that will end. Cannot tell if it will be for her or her opponent, coming through the rain, but--

"Oh," I say quietly, and I set down my end of the stretcher--gently, but I set it down. My face, the lines of me, who I am... I see myself and I know her, I do, as I have not since I woke with my face stolen from me, and my heart stops in my throat.

"I'm sorry," I say to Kate. "I can't help you. I can't." I back away from my end of the stretcher, and circle around into our--her path towards the tower.

[kateohara.livejournal.com]

I'm exhausted. It feels like we've been walking through the woods forever, and I thought I couldn't get any wetter than I was from falling in the sea but I was wrong. But I don't complain, because Syl doesn't. And then the blank-faced girl sets down her end of the stretcher and says "I can't help you. I can't." I don't understand what she's talking about, and she hurries away. I kneel down next to Syl.

"I can't carry you myself," I say. "I'll go for help." I lift my skirt and pull out the knife I had strapped beneath it. "Here. If anyone tries to hurt you." She can't exactly run away.

[syl-thorn.livejournal.com]

Think've passed inta semi-consciousness, an'I jerk awake when th'stretcher jolts. I hear, "I'm sorry, I can't help you. I can't." an'en runnin' footsteps. Stretcher's feelin' mighty lopsided now. Th'faceless woman's gone.

Kate lays'er side down a lot more gently an' rushes over t'me. "I can't carry you myself. I'll go for help." She says, an'en hands me a knife'n takes off.

"WAIT!" I yell. We don't got bloody time for'er t'go runnin' 'round lookin' fer folk. I hear wingbeats on th'wind, an' th'rain's comin' down harder, an' th'tower door's standin' open. M'belly's burnin', an' we don't got time, dammit.

Use'er knife t'cut th'straps bindin' me t'th'stretcher, an'en th'blade gets clenched 'tween m'teeth. Helps, havin' somethin' t'bite down on, when I roll m'self off th'stretcher'n start t'crawl.