Skin Deep The Dance Chapter 7
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Skin Deep: The Dance - Chapter 0 free porn video
Chapter 0
Introduction - The Roadies Set Up
William was not one for remembering his dreams. They came and went
with the passage of sleep, ghosts of some half-remembered somewhere
that no longer existed shortly after the cobwebs were cleared from the
corners of his mind.
The last few weeks had been a nasty exception. An observer watching him
sleep would clearly have been able to delineate the span of time when the
dreams began and ended. They would start, and William would begin to
sweat in his sleep. His eyes would dance beneath his lids and he would
pitch and roll fitfully, moaning and talking in his sleep. Upon waking, they
threatened to follow him into the waking world.
In is mind, he found himself deep in a forest primeval, dark and full of
unfamiliar sounds. He would stumble and run from the hungry growls of
unseen beasts he was sure were waiting to tear the flesh from his body as
nourishment for their own. He would allow himself only a moment to
pause from time to time when the path split in two or more directions to
decide the best course and then blindly blunder along the undergrowth,
banging shins on branches, and scraping calves on briars he could not see
in the dark. The pain from the wounds on his legs was excruciating. He
could feel the blood coursing down his legs in rivulets, making the pads of
his feet slimy and slippery. Now and then he would fall face first bashing
a cheek on the protruding root of a tree or scratch his arms and face on the
same briars that attacked his legs.
"HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME!" He would scream. At least that's what
he meant to say anyway. What came out, what his ears heard was more
along the lines of... "ASSISTANCE! WON'T THOU LEND
ASSISTANCE TO THIS WRECHED SOUL?"
Too confused to reckon the issue he blundered on, racing from the sound
of animals larger, stronger and more numerous than he. He ran until his
side ached with the pain of a stitch.
He ran until he finally broke into a beautiful golden sun-lit clearing. Here
cherry blossoms fell in rays of white and golden sunshine. The smell was
fresh, air so clean he could scarcely believe that this was air he was
breathing. The clearing was long and only half as wide. Tall thick hard
wood trees, Oak, Maple, Cherry and Dogwoods mixed around the pasture
in a happy blend. They swayed softly in a cool breeze. The touch of this
wind was as the kiss of a true love might be, gentle and soft, seeing that he
was in distress and wanting only to comfort and nurse him back to health.
William collapsed on the soft and sweet grass. He could feel himself
drifting off in his dream, a layer of sleep contained within another.
The pounding on the ground was what always woke him up. He knew
what to expect. It would be him, the Knight, the man whose face he could
not see behind the steel. He would be ordered up. "Up! Will thou permit
the destruction of thine own family with an act of cowardice?"
He would be armored and mounted upon a horse and handed a lance. The
pasture would be gone and in its place would be a grandstand full of
cheering medieval spectators.
"I can't joust!" he thought he said. "This lance finds a hand with no
experience Sire!" was what fell out of his mouth. Why can't you just say
the damn words?
"Then lad, the family of this Prince will be sacrificed for the unhealthy
deeds of fate. For there is no other than you who may undo the Wizards
curse. This is the day of your judgment! Hold fast to the teaching of your
parents and understand that thou are the last hope of the house of
Shipley!"
The Knight pointed across the courtyard and there would be his mother,
chained and in rags but as beautiful as he remembered her in his modern
life. A guard raked a spear tip over her cheek and laughed as she tried to
flinch away from it but too late. A fine scrape, a minor gash on her cheek
oozed blood. William could see the blood collect at the lowest point of the
abrasion and splash on to the floor of the caged wagon his mother was
held prisoner in. On the staff of the spear was carved the word
"Loneliness".
"MOTHER!" he would cry. She always looked to him with mournful eyes
that said to his heart, I will understand if you choose not to fight for us!
Save yourself child, we are through.
Anger and bile would rise up in him, burning his throat and bringing
stinging tears just below the surface where they threatened to erupt. He
would fight them back each night and steady the lance under his arm.
Where was his father? He should he here to defend the family, to break
this curse! Why did this fall upon the youngest son of the Kingdom? That
was it! His father must be the King. If that were true then he could not be
his wife's champion in matters where he must be her judge. But his father
was around here someplace; he just could never remember just where he
was. It seemed such a simple thing. He had been here just last night, the
Knight, the guard and his mother, everything the same. He could not
remember where his father was.
There was a commotion at the other end of the gallery. The challenging
Knight was there; the enemy that condemned her. His steed was stomping
and pounding on the ground angrily, eager to start the match. Fear froze
William's poor teenage heart. This man seemed so much bigger than life;
it was impossible for him to reconcile this man's in his mind in his mind.
William figured that he must be somewhere near eight or nine feet tall out
of the saddle.
"Wait!" he screamed "That Knight, he must stand twenty hands or greater!
What evil has descended upon me? What great trick of Satan has been
thrust upon my family?"
He would get no answer, the crowd would chant as beads of sweat rolled
down inside his helmet and into his eyes, blinding him. His horse would
lurch forward to engage the sinister Knight as he tried to clear his eyes.
There was a blow felt rather than heard, down the length of William's
lance then a cheer from the crowd. William could only clear his vision
enough to see the Knight's shield inches from his face, impaled to the hilt
of his lance, the word "Mortality" engraved in a steel valance on the top of
the shield. The Knight who's shield this was had fallen to the ground, the
tip of William's lance buried in his chest plate.
He had won! William always wanted to cheer and celebrate at this point in
the dream. He was alive and well and he had WON! The massive lance
from his would-be attacker was felled and lay unclaimed in the trodden
path on the challengers' side of the wooden jousting fence. The monogram
"GAS" shone brightly under the coat of arms on the hilt.
'GAS...' William would think, 'that's funny we always teased Dad that his
food gave us all gas, just like his initials predic....' The memory of where
his father was always hit him with such strength as to knock him from his
mount. He would claw and rip at his own helmet, flinging it finally to the
ground. In his haste to get out of his armor he fell off the horse and landed
with a metallic clank on his back next to his mount. He stumbled to his
feet and tripped from the weight of the armor until he was at the Knight's
side, kneeling, bending to slowly remove this noble Knight's faceplate.
Inside was the pale and dead visage of his father. 'No! This can't be. How
was this going to save his family?' "Father?" he would always ask, were
the man to awake suddenly from a dream. But no, he was dead with his
son's lance run through him.
"Father, please." He would look about the gallery at the disapproving
faces of his peers.
"William!" came the cry from the other side of the arena. He would look
only to see the pained and tortured face of his mother, still in irons but
dressed as a Queen. A sign that hung over her cage read 'Eternity'.
"William, why would thou condemn your own mother to a life alone? Did
you know not how so I adored your father? Did my eyes not display to
thou the depth of my need for my King?"
The guards were moving the cage, which was on a wagon. They were
moving her away from the arena. His mother would search his eyes for an
answer and then slump in the corner of the small cage, trapped and alone
with no champion to save her. Her King dead, brought down by the
Prince.
Tonight however, it was different. The scene had played out just as before
but now in the Royal box was another... another... 'Another what, Princess,
some unknown member of the Royal Court perhaps? He didn't recognize
her, so who was she?' He thought and a voice answered back like the
thunderous voice of God.
'I am Another! That is all you need know for now!' This voice was female
and all in the gallery stands cringed at the volume, many took shelter from
it. Several women wearing tall hats with many veils waived golden, jewel
encrusted crucifixes about in the air and prayed.
This voice did not come from heaven however; it came from the girl
standing at the Royal Pulpit at the edge of the staging area. She was
looking at William.
'You can save them still, the King and Queen.'
William on his Knees next to his dead King was eager. "Save them?
How?" He shouted at the young and powerful girl who must be a Wizard,
perhaps THE Wizard spoken of by the Knight that finds him sleeping in
the grass at the edge of the arena each day before battle.
'You must choose a road, a course of action to be taken to save them, for
once upon it you will travel that road for the whole of your life.'
It was a trap! He knew it as sure as he knew his own name. Now,
however, he had a chance to reverse what he had done and save his
parents. He had his chance to save the King and Queen.
"A road? I see no road to choose? I wish to save my King and Queen but
you speak in riddles. This is an arena. The King's highway is yet two
leagues east."
King and Queen? Come on now, it's all a dream. In the morning your
mother and father will be just fine. Logic broke his rationalization. If this
is a dream smart boy, how come you smell and feel? He felt confident that
if he defied this Wizard Girl all would be well with the world in a few
hours or minutes or seconds or however long he had left to sleep this one
off.
'If it's a dream then how do you explain the pain from your briar wounds?'
Wizard-Girl spoke without moving her lips, yet all could hear the
thundering voice. 'The road you choose is to do or not do. I will place your
feet upon it once the time has arrived. Heed this well, once chosen, you
will not be allowed to withdraw. Your worth will be measured by the
honor of your intent. Say as much your intention to save the King and
Queen and you will be honor bound to do so.
"Shut up Wench!" William cried. He could stand no more of her demonic
taunts.
You're falling for your own dream asshole. This is not real!
'CHOOSE!' Cried the God-like voice. The villagers looked as if they
wanted to scatter but were too tightly drawn into the web of intrigue.
Many of the women as well as the men, priests and holy men from the
look, fainted.
William dared the dream! "I choose the honor of my family and to save
the life of the King and Queen.
There was a ripple in time... not much more than a blink really, but he was
back on the horse. He felt different. He was sitting on the horse sidesaddle.
Now why the hell had he gotten up here like that?
"I can't joust!" he thought he said. "This lance finds a hand with no
experience Sire!" was what fell out of his mouth. Why can't you just say
the damn words?
"Then lass, the family of this Princess will be sacrificed for the unhealthy
deeds of fate. For there is no other than you who may undo the Wizards
curse. This is the day of their judgment! Hold fast to the teaching of your
parents and understand that thou are the last hope of the house of
Shipley!"
The dream was replaying itself. He thought he knew all the words by now,
but something was out of order. Princess? Lass? What was this Knight
talking about? He caught a glimpse of himself in the polished steel of his
scabbard as he maneuvered it over his horse.
Blonde hair? He steadied the scabbard and looked harder, his eyes
widened at the sight and he let the scabbard fall to the ground.
"What evil is upon me?" he cried in a voice he did not recognize. He
tumbled backward and off the horse landing on the dusty ground in a
puddle of medieval gown. He lifted the dress that covered his legs not
really knowing what to make of it at first. It didn't take long for him to
realize that it was all attached to his waist and then to a corset laced there.
"No! What hath thou done to me Witch!" he cried standing allowing the
gown to fall to the ground around his feet.
'Saved your family... for all you seem to care you selfish child!'
The King, in his armor was at the other end of the paddock again. "I can
not fight this woman."
WOMAN?
"This child is my daughter and the Princess of all the land."
"No." William whispered.
"The curse is lifted, surely happiness will seek us all out for the rest of our
days."
"NO!" William said defiantly.
'You chose girl. The future is coming for you. You can not turn back down
the road from whence you came.'
William turned to see, to run back into the woods where he had emerged
from and escape this fate. When he did he ran smack in to a stone cliff that
reached to the clouds. He fell on the ground facing the sky; his dress
billowed about him for a moment, and then the air left it and he was left
alone staring up at the cliff. Carved in the living rock was the word
"Sacrifice".
-*-
William woke in his bedroom bathed in sweat, a scream caught in his
throat. His hands flew over his chest and head searching for... what? The
dream was fading. He knew it had been the dream he had been having for
so many nights now. There was something he felt he should remember
about this one... something...
It was gone. Whatever had terrified him so was now forever part of that
shadow land that vanished with the sunrise of consciousness. William lay
back down, not caring about the damp on his pillow. He was simply
grateful that the dream was over. He could sleep now, peacefully. But
sleep would elude him this night. He would finally get up around 4:00 am
and make a pot of fresh coffee for himself, in the process he would wake
his mother, Michelle Shipley and they would spend a little while together
trying to extract what from his dream what had frightened him so. Then,
they would spend the rest of the early morning giggling about absolutely
nothing and trying not to wake the entire household. It was time the likes
of which they had not spent with one another in a very long time. Both
would spend the rest of the day tired but unexplainably satisfied and
happy.
William would never dream the dream again. Next time it would be no
dream. A path had been chosen; his feet were on the road. It would be
nearly eight months before William would be called to try to save the
King and Queen from his dreams.
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