Friday, June 2, 2017

#FlashFictionFriday Upon Awakening by Claire Davon #Flash #FFF

Upon Awakening

by Claire Davon

He was in the distance an indistinct, fuzzy figure as if she saw him through sheets of plastic. Osanna tried to call to the man, but when she opened her mouth no sound came. Then he was gone again, like he had vanished around a bend.

Frustrated, Osanna gave chase although her feet were bare and she was clad only in a diaphanous gown that for all its sheerness could not be seen through. He was around the corner, she was sure of it. Why it was so important to find the man she couldn’t have said, but it was all she could think about.


She saw him again, a figure retreating into the mist that lay around them. Osanna ran as fast as she could, but made little headway against the man she kept glimpsing. No matter how quickly she dashed to the space he last stood, her legs flashing with every leap forward, she came no closer to the man. He held the answer to something, although she couldn’t have said what it was. Distant half-remembered images of him, a hazy recollection that she couldn’t quite decipher kept urging her forward.

The landscape, if that was what it was, couldn’t be seen through the heavy air except as the barest suggestion of shapes. Was that a mountain on the horizon? Did a sun burn overhead? She felt as if both things were true and yet not true, as if they would be real if she needed them to be. Osanna had the fleeting impression of a city in the distance, one that she would see if the mist cleared, but the cover stayed. That was what mist did in dreams—it cloaked the man, and the rest wasn’t important. He was the only thing that mattered.

He was always two steps out of reach no matter how fast or how far she ran. Yet she never tired. The mist surrounded her like a cloak, the ground beneath her running feet as indistinct as the horizon. It was neither warm nor cold. There were shapes in the cloudy air but she never hit them. Her gown—made of material like the clouds—moved with her, never impeding her. It could never have kept her warm in the real world, but here it was all she required. She had the sensation of another world, one that she was not meant to see. She was here for him.

Wait for me, she cried, once again the words soundless, but it seemed as if the man hesitated. Clenching her fists in determination, Osanna ran faster, her strides eating up the earth she couldn’t see. He kept wavering, vanishing and reappearing like the Aurora Borealis she had only read about.
As she ducked her head and pushed

 forward, Osanna collided with something solid and unyielding. She yelped, except as before she made no sound, and her heart sped up in panic. She backed up, horrified at the thought she had finally run into something in this vague misty nowhere land. The man she’d been chasing stood tall in front of her as if coalesced from shadow, Startled, she put a hand out and encountered solid flesh, so warm his heat went through her like a hot water bottle.

Or a promise.

She met his eyes and everything else fell away. They were blue and piercing, and somehow familiar. Fire burned in his eyes. He had a look of the Mediterranean in his slightly hooked nose, high cheekbones and olive complexion. He looked to be no older than she was. A hint of an uncertain smile tilted his lips up. He studied her with a puzzled air, as if he had not known she’d been chasing him. His hands came up to cup her face, his thumbs stroking her cheekbones. His mouth formed a word. She narrowed her gaze, trying to pick it out. Was it…hello?
* * * *
“Did you sleep well?”

Osanna nodded, shooting her bustling mother a lopsided grin. Despite what seemed like endless hours of running while she slept, she felt refreshed. The memory of the man’s clear blue eyes and chiseled features lingered in a way unlike most dreams. Usually her visions fell away the moment she opened her eyes, her mind already racing with the demands of the day, but this was different. This had the power of remembrance rather than slumber.

She shuffled into the kitchen and reached into the refrigerator for orange juice when the sound of male voices and clattering silverware stopped her.

“Mother?” she asked, her hand arrested in the act of getting the container. Her mother continued to focus on a pan full of scrambled eggs which Osanna realized was much larger than it would have been for the two of them. Bacon sizzled on the stove, its scent filling the air and making her mouth water. Her solid, unflappable mother had pink staining her cheeks.

“Oh, yes,” her mother replied, her gaze going to the dining room. “We have guests. Ezra from next door showed up with his nephew in tow this morning, here for the summer, like us. They arrived late last night and have no food. He wanted to know if he could borrow a cup of sugar. I told them to stay for breakfast. We have plenty.” Her eyes sparkled as if the meal was not her true reason for asking Ezra to eat with them.

The memories of the tousled brown-haired dream man dried Osanna’s throat. It could be nothing more than coincidence, though. Looking down at her feet she realized they were bare, as they had been in the dream. If her attire wasn’t the same, well, that was the nature of dreams. 

She shook her head at her silliness. With a glance at her mother and a tightening of her bulky robe around her form, Osanna strode into the dining room.

He was no dream.

She blinked, swallowed, and with shaking hands tightened her robe again, needing something to do as she stared at the man who she had already met in that shadow world.

“Hello, Osanna,” her uncle said. The other man rose to his feet, a figure still filling out into his final masculine form. If his dream image had been handsome, the reality of him was a balm to her senses. At 6’2” he was as tall as his spirit self, He had a runner’s build, hard muscles playing under the loose fitting jeans and college sweatshirt.

He held out his hand, his blue eyes bright against his shock of dark brown hair. His gaze glided over her body with a quick appreciation as pleased to see the form he could not discern in her dream gown. His gaze settled back on her face as if trying to show courtesy. 

Sensation began low in her core, spreading a similar warmth as she’d felt the night before through her limbs, making her lightheaded with the feeling. She wondered if he’d dreamed about her as well but there was no way to ask. 

“Hello,” he said and the word echoed through the room with twice the force it should have, as if making up for the lack of sound in that other place. “I’m Tomer.”

Heat blazing on her cheeks, Osanna shook his hand. It held the same warmth she had felt in slumber. “Hi,” she replied. “I’m Osanna.”

His lips curved up in the faintest hint of a smile as his eyes searched hers. He looked down at their joined palms and then leaned down and spoke into her ear.

“Is it really you? Is it possible?”

Heart skipping a beat, Osanna nodded. Tomar relaxed, letting his breath out in a rush. His fingers lingered on hers when he squeezed her palm and then slid his hand away.

“Pleasure to meet you, Osanna. I look forward to getting to know you.” The promise in his words was matched by the sparkle in his eyes when he drew back.

Her mother bustled in with eggs and bacon, the scent of breakfast filling the room. Daring another look at Tomer, the same feeling of promise washed over Osanna as it had in her dreamscape. There was no way to predict the future, but she was certain of one thing.

This was going to be good.


Claire Davon is, among other things, a contemporary and paranormal romance author. She does not believe in genre boundaries and will write whatever story calls to her, whether horror, scifi and of course romance in all its forms. Claire has had several short stories and novels published in the last few years and looks forward to many more to come. Claire may be contacted at where she loves to hear from people!