DREAMWORLD
DAWNS
(For some these are dreams, for others nightmares)
Allan Edward Tierney
DREAMWORLD DAWNS
All Rights Reserved
Copyright © 2012 Allan Edward Tierney
This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
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To Kasi who gave me encouragement and to Jirina
who gave me her constant and loving support.
Contents
I. IN THE END WE ALL WENT NAKED
Far Travelers
Centauri Christmas Eve
Columbine And Nightshade
Star Black
II. GREEN FINGERS
It’s One Minute To Midnight
Echo In An Empty Room
Never To See Eye To Eye
Freq
III. THE SEEDS OF CONTENTMENT
The Graveyard Shift
A Droplet In Eternity’s Pool
Grimbleweed
Home In The Stars
IV. IT ALL WENT JIGGLY
In Those Days
Earthrise: The Silkie’s Promise
In The Land of Eternal Sweetness and Light
The Grey Men
V. THE INHERITANCE
In The Realm Of The Silver Skein
Perfect Zero—The Duel
The Tourist Trap
Forewarned Of Folly
VI. THE SEARCH FOR THE WHITE ROOMS
They Weren’t There
In The Kingdom Of The Blind
Simulcra 11751A
A Final Wave Goodbye
This is the second in my Dawn series of books. (The complete series comprises: ‘Doomsday Dawns’, ‘Dreamword Dawns’, ‘Farworld Dawns’ and ‘Everyday Dawns’).
My website is here: http://allanedwardtierney.com/
Here you can find out some of the things that make me tick.
The page includes an email comment box. I would love to hear from you, I promise to write back to you as soon as possible after receiving your email. Also included are in-page displays of my Twitter account, Facebook page and my current blog.
My full blog is here: http://allanedwardtierney.blogspot.sk/
I would be honoured indeed if you came to read awhile.
My poetry forum is here: http://allanspalace.com
I. IN THE END WE ALL WENT NAKED
It started one sleepy spring morning. There was nothing strange about it. Some of us were sleeping. A cool breeze blew making flower petals flutter, and the sun shone brightly down.
It was later that day that we stumbled when we tried to utter the usual pleasantries. I couldn’t say “Good morning” to the milk man. The words fled from my larynx and only “. . . morning” would come out.
Later, there was another bout of it. As I made it to the office that morning the doorman said quite distinctly, but with a seeming stutter, “Have a . . . day”. I wanted to give a cheery “Thank you, same to you” as usual but all that came out was “. . . . you”.
Inside was worse. Like gibbering idiot dolls and puppets we danced. It was a mess of embarassingly blushing ineptitude. When the CEO arrived we all ran away. Some surreptitiously spat into the pot plants, lips writhing like snakes, eyes popping.
I got home that night thoroughly shaken and crept in the door as quietly as I could. I caught the eye of my eldest daughter Jenny, she was looking at me strangely out of the corner of her eye. In paroxysms of anxiety I ran upstairs and hid in the bathroom.
Why did I feel this compulsive urge to smack our newborn baby?
Jane, my wife, came to bed late, she had gone for a long walk that evening, I’d heard the door slam twice. All night I felt her knees sharp, and somehow pointedly malevolent in my back.
The next day was worse. Though the sun shone on and the scent of roses wafted down the avenue, making it such a beautiful place to be.
I wanted to stop myself telling Johnny I hated his crying. I held my hand back from raking it across his merry little face. I clawed at my throat to hold back a snarl.
Jane told me I looked like death warmed up. I told her to get her hair done, that it looked like an abandoned haystack.
Joseph, our toddler, kicked me in the shin.
The usual train was bedlam, stifled cries and coughs, idle shouts and vicious murmerings. Someone was screaming at the driver about his excess of freckles. I got off before my usual stop.
I wandered off, shielding my eyes from the sunbeams which glared from every shop window up and down the street. A cleaning lady I knew from the nightshift said hello and then promptly stamped on my foot.
When I got home Jane had gone. Jenny was still there though. She walked right up to me and gave me the most lascivious french kiss. All I could do was dumbly stare before racing up the stairwell to my room. I locked the door, closed the blinds and went straight to bed, pulling the covers over my head.
The flowers by the window had all wilted. The sun seemed to have scorched them. Too much sun and no rain had done for them.
I dressed, and it was then I felt it . . . a strange, unpleasant disgust. My vest felt abrasive, my tie too tight, the jacket was scratchy and seemed to hem me in. And my shoes seemed to squeeze like vices.
I looked out the window and almost jumped back in shock. Mrs Goutcher from next door was standing in her garden half-naked. She was cupping her right breast with her hand and crying.
Now, these months later there’s no pain, no anxiety. Everything is starting to make perfect sense. I’m grooming Mrs Goutcher’s hair. It’s what I am here for. It seems right to be naked. I can’t think why, it just is. And there’s no need to worry, not ever, not now . . .
Far Travelers
We came down on the dark side,
silent as a floating feather
Little was known of this planet
out here in star forever
We’d been sent on our mission
to scout out the land
It could have meant our suicide
we had to understand
Back at base they’d been anxious
no one knew what we’d meet
We knew barbarism was a possibility
and chose to face the heat
We came down by some foothills
In the distance lay a light
The detectors showed nine lifeforms
far off to our right
We dug down deep into the soil
and formed our first base
Ever deeper down we dug that night,
quickening our pace
Their sun was rising fast now
and at last we slept
Deep in the cool of their planet’s soil,
as the sunlight slowly crept
That night we made first contact
with our orbiter
above
And downloaded body types
to shape us, hand in glove
Exhausted, we slept again,
at the breaking of the day
By evening’s glow we woke once more
and prepared the travel ray
On-screen we accessed the global map,
in 3-D color display
More data came in by each tick
of our greensound E-ray
By the fourth day we were ready
and stole toward the light
Nervously awaiting
our first encounter fright
It came by the first quadratic form
beside its horizontal plane
Our first touch of alien build
drove our senses half-insane
Back to base we traveled,
too anxious to go on
Scrambled nerves made us sick
as we slept through the dawn
That night we ventured out again,
forcing boldness to come
We walked along the horizontal plane,
ears attuned to its hum
Suddenly the hum grew louder
and we fell down to the ground
As beyond the quad flew an irregular form
emitting a roaring sound
Back to base we scurried then,
in a panic wild and blind
Holding to each other very tight
to avoid an escape of mind
this task had defeated us
So making contact with the orbiter
we entered the D-mat bus
Out from that dark system we quickly flew,
away from its odd grey moon
Far and fast from its strange blue seas
we were headed soon
Ahead we mailed our updated map
and in this quadrant drew
The scariest, metallic dragon beast
to warn travelers like you.
Centauri Christmas Eve
It was Christmas Eve on The Explorer,
half way ‘tween home and Centauri
If you squinted slightly and hopefully
the stars looked almost snowy
Babs was so homesick tonight
but it was her daily hazard
Thoughts of home and comforts there
swept through her like a blizzard
She was warm enough, that helped a lot,
so close to the coldness of space
Minus 270 degrees was unimaginable
only tiny inches from your face
From the Forward Screen Babs gazed,
she never tired of this view
A billion, billion, billion stars stared back
Were civilizations out there . . . a few?
This was the eternal question
for the ever lonely human race
And it showed in Bab’s eyes tonight
and each line of her face
It was the fifteenth month of their five year trip
and she knew she should be grateful
The development of the Hi-Fusion drive
had cut them to a handful
The mission team in their capsules,
where she made her hourly round
were all frosting and white faces
and a perfect lack of sound
She called for some festive music,
“I need something to cheer me up!”
Shoan1 delivered her Bing Crosby
and in the e-wave, a cheering cup
She sipped the hot tangy grog real slow
and tapped her toe to the tune
As she hugged to her the memory
of sweet Earth and a silver moon.
Columbine And Nightshade
(In memory of Richard Dadd, 1817-1876)
They wound round the tree bole
Enchantment woven in each soul
Dark blacks and greens played their part
From the end winding to the start
Shining eyes and sharpened teeth
Hair coats with bones beneath
Smells and signs hang in the air
As they return from dark night’s lair
Blood drips from their languid lips
Sweat from straining bodies drips
Horns on head and hoofs for heels
Wiry hair lank o’er golden seals
Hoving to home as dawnlight greets
Shining in eyes where blood red beats
The horde sated crave a fitful sleep
As all to their lairs silent creep.
Star Black
Mixed colors sparkle briefly
through Forward Screen
Heralding Arcturus’ suns
A friendly greeting then
from this our latest port
We come to gather fresh blood
New followers for the fold
‘Passengers’ for our glorious ark
Drifting now to land
grey, tense and uninspired,
gazing listless at the dark . . .
~
Through ‘Screens’
to Central
All in order
‘On you go . . .’
And out to the hordes
’same in every sector
relentless motion
& search for survival
A soft smile to one another
The same old game
played once again.
‘It’s too easy’ Bored.
‘Don’t worry. ‘Over soon.
We’ll drink their best tonight.’
Liquid pulse thought electric
faster than starlight flicker
A group of five
drift easy, close behind
Tagged now in instant melding
‘One-Two-Three and A-B-C . . .’
And so home free.
‘Leavers’
Positive okay. Good. Goodbye
Starfire. Flick up.
Away.
~
Smiles all round.
Relax. Feet up.
A cathedral of stars light Forward One.
Halo on halo we sit
in shadows of silver.
‘. . . sweet stuff . . .’
‘Mmm . . . Nice design . . .’
‘Blackberries and lime marmalade . . .’
‘Yeah, and pumpkins fresh from the field . . .’
Silence falls.
The ship hums softly.
Smiling,
incisors palely flicker.
ghostly stars
dance slowly on each one.
II. GREEN FINGERS
She didn’t think they were human.
I said “Don’t be silly”, and laughed.
This annoyed her as she had hoped for some reassurance.
“There’s something about them . . .”
“It takes all sorts”, I said.
The people who lived down the hall were a bit weird, I’d have to admit. They’d moved in a couple of weeks before. I’m sure the terrific storm which had been thundering all day that day was purely co-incidental. They’d just picked a helluva day to move.
Since then they’d kept themselves very much to themselves. I’d caught a fleeting glimpse of him on a couple of occasions. He reminded me of the guy in that painting, you know the one, of the two old sticks standing in front
of their church, he with his pitchfork and both with those sternly malevolent stares? His head was long and narrow and he was pretty well bald. I suppose you would call him bullet-headed. His wife I’d seen just once as she scurried in from the lashing rain of the storm, hair slicked down, for all the world looking like a frightened fieldmouse.
What really freaked my wife out was the green glow. She had taken me protesting down the hall one night to show me. It came from under their door, a lime green kind of light with just a trace of a pulse in it. I’d said maybe they had some newfangled kind of TV.
“With a green screen?”, she asked, skeptically and with notes of both sarcasm and annoyance in her voice.
I shrugged and went back to watch the game.
The days passed without any further incident. So it seemed to me anyway. It was only after a week or so that I noticed the change in her. Her face had become noticeably thinner and sallow and I hadn’t been aware of seeing those dark circles below her eyes before. It worried me.
She died a peaceful death. Her pallor just went from bad to worse until she just faded right away and died. It had all been so quick. She took to her bed silently, with no complaint and stayed there. I looked in on her from time to time to hear her whispered instructions on meals and so forth. I assumed she knew best what to do and that whatever bug she’d caught would work its way through her system and she’d recover. But it didn’t and she didn’t.