I COULD BARELY move. Every joint and bone thrummed. I was no longer quite asleep, but a spell of eternal slumber froze my limbs. I could not open my eyes.
Once I did, I felt that they burned. My arm grasped out, fingers splayed like claws; it was the first sight I saw. A spasm in my leg made my body twist and then I jerked to the other side of the worn mattress. I had lain there so long I could feel the coils through the bedding.
Sitting up, I rubbed my eyes and blinked furiously. They sting terribly. And that’s when I saw the stranger.
He stood beside my bed, red splotches over his pale cheeks bright as roses. His skin and silk shirt were tattered. Slender red scratches decorated what was visible. A sword inlay with gold and carnelian burned from where it lay on the cracked cobwebbed stone beside glistening golden armor. He had dragged the sun with him.
I flinched at the sight, but he – this hero, this prince, this warrior – who had invaded and broken my sleep, stepped forward. He was covered in a light sweat; I saw it gleam on his flushed skin, a second shiny sheen. I hated him.
Written: 12 Nov 2015
Inspired: lack of sleep (4 hours, to be precise) due to a continual habit of browsing the Internet when I’m tired and want to go to bed for the physical sensations and “Sleeping Beauty” (“Talia, Sun, and Moon” in particular) for the plot.