5-pg Assignment: The Dreamers

So I guess since I posted my other stories, I'll put this one up, too. The assignment was simply to write a 5-pg story (double spaced), so about 2 1/2 pgs single spaced. Enjoy, I guess. :)


The Gypsies had arrived. There was no mistaking the clanging and hammering as they parked their wagons and put together the stands and tents. Morgan pulled his blankets up over his head in vain to try and block out the shouting and singing. He hated Gypsy season. Sure, he could buy quality silks and teas for his mother. He could barter for exotic woods to use in his father's carpentry shop. He even let himself enjoy some of the nightly revelry that went on around their great bonfires.

What he did not like was their "Exhibition of the Unnatural." It disgusted him: The white horse with a carved ivory horn strapped to its forehead. The woman with a beard which he could bet was only a beaver pelt. The desert vultures that they insisted were Harpies. The strong men, the contortionists, the fortune tellers, and all the rest.

A sharp knock on the front door forced Morgan up out of bed. "One moment!" He pulled on his pants and grabbed a shirt as he crossed the width of his modest-sized house. He reached the front and opened the door, revealing his best friend, Mari.

"Morgan! You really should have built closer to town." Her blustery auburn hair tickled his nose as she walked in past him.

"You say that every time you come here," he countered. "What brings you here so early?"

"Oh come on, Morgan. Please tell me you haven't been hearing them set up?"

"I couldn't sleep half the night because of all the racket."

"Well, I suppose that's what you get for living so close to the clearing, now isn't it?"

Her playful tone forced a chuckle out of him. It always did, no matter what the situation. "Yes, it's my own fault knowing full well that that is where the Gypsies pitch camp every year."

Her laughter danced around him like wind chimes. "Come on, and maybe we can catch a peek of the new beasts they brought with them."

Morgan groaned. "New? What more could they possibly pass off? You know I don't go in for that stuff."

"I know, but please? For me?" Her feet stepped ever so lightly across the room and she took his hand in hers. It was warm, despite the chill of the morning that had come in behind her when he had opened the door. Morgan could never refuse Mari.

"All right, Mari." Morgan tried to sound reluctant, but Mari's smile left him no room to argue. He got up, put on his boots, and followed her outside.

The two friends made their way through the trees, around the outside edge of the clearing. They could see all the Gypsy men, women, and children, in their brightly dyed clothing, helping to set things up before the townsfolk started arriving.

"This better be quick," he warned Mari, who was a few steps ahead of him.

"Just keep up," she answered. "They always keep the good stuff way in the back until nightfall, don't they? It's only a bit farther." True to her word, at the far side of the clearing were the covered wagons. Some were the homes of the actors, and others were covered cages that held the animals. Larger ones sat at the tree line, and smaller ones extended beyond into the forest. As they crept closer, they could hear whinnying, growling, and clawing from underneath the bright red and yellow canvases.

With every last Gypsy busy with other things, Morgan and Mari had no trouble approaching the closest wagon to them. Morgan hung back, but Mari lifted up the corner of the canvas to peer underneath. "Oh, the unicorn had a foal!" Mari exclaimed as quietly as she could. Morgan rolled his eyes, but bent down to look with her.

"They don't even have their horns on yet," he noticed.

"Well, they'll be unicorns tonight," Mari tried to defend them. "Don't be such a spoil sport."

"I'm not."

"You are. Let's see what's in the next one." Mari stood up and listened at the next wagon before trying to peek. A low grumble issued from inside. "I think this one is the tigers."

"You're not going to look at them?"

"No." Mari shook her head and shot Morgan a lopsided grin. "I don't like teasing animals that could eat me."

"Good point. What's in the next one? It looks kind of small." Although Morgan would never have gone there of his own accord, Mari's enthusiasm was catching. Mari was right behind him as he reached a hand out to pull the curtain aside. The canvas draping it, unlike the other bright colors on the other wagons, was pitch black. He hesitated. Mari gripped his arm.

"What's the matter? Are you scared?" It was that playful tone again. Morgan, in one fluid motion, threw the curtain aside and spun to face Mari, letting out his best monster-growl to give her a bit of a scare. It had the desired effect: Mari jumped back and gave a shriek before dissolving into giggles. She was about to throw a punch at his arm when her focus suddenly shifted to what was inside the cage.

Morgan followed her gaze and stood, as she was, staring in disbelief. A young woman was lying on the floor of the cage, her eyes closed, her arms curled up to cradle her head as she slept. Her skin was pale as ivory, and her scant clothing was a stark white. Her gold-spun hair flowed down over her shoulders and onto the floor. Her most striking features, though, were that her body seemed to be emitting a soft white light, and that sprouting from her back were two large feathered white wings.

"That can't be real," Morgan breathed out. He walked forward and gripped the bars of the cage as his eyes searched the dark corners of the enclosure. "Mari, she's not glowing. It's just some weird trick. And the wings… they can be made up to look like that. Dove feathers, I've seen them in festivals over at Dirkholme. It's all made up."

Mari stood beside him. "I don't know, Morgan. Look closely." Morgan glanced at the woman in the cage, then looked at the woman beside him. He saw Mari's blue eyes twinkling in the pale glow, and he saw her mouth parted open in a smile. Her whole face was awash in true wonder. "She's an angel, Morgan."

Morgan wanted to look back at the alleged angel, but he couldn't look away from Mari. He had always known that he loved her, even since they were kids together playing in the forest behind their parents' houses. He liked to think that she loved him, too, but she was a dreamer. And he was, well, not. She believed in the fantastic, in the unknown, while he was a realist. He didn't waste thoughts on what he couldn't see or touch for himself.

He felt the warmth of her body next to his, and saw in her expression that she would say she believed. She would speak of it as if it were real, just like she spoke of the unicorns as unicorns even without the horns strapped to their heads.

Morgan spoke gently, almost unwilling to break the silence. "Mari, let's go before someone finds us here." Mari looked up at him. Her expression had not changed, though her eyes were full of unfallen tears.

"Have you ever imagined something so beautiful?" she asked him.

"No," he replied simply. It was the truth. He didn't think of things that didn't affect his every day goings-on. She turned from him and began to walk back the way they had come. They went on in silence for a while until Mari stopped and turned to him.

"Do you believe in anything you can't see with your eyes?"

Morgan thought for a moment before he replied. "No, I don't think so. It wouldn't do me any good if I did, would it?"

Mari sighed and looked down. "I suppose it wouldn't."

Morgan could tell that he hadn't produced the answer she wanted, but he wasn't sure how to fix it. He reached out and took her hand in hers. "You've always told me about your fantastic dreams, ever since we were little. Do you dream of angels?"

"Yes," Mari answered without hesitation. "Do you?"

"No."

"Oh…"

"I don't need to dream of angels or other things because every night I dream of you."

They walked back in silence, hand in hand, a smile on each of their faces.