Things to Run Away From Really Fast

★★☆☆☆

Samael Presents:

(your daily)

SOLO SENTENCE ESPRESSO

(the contents of which you should still)

FLEETLY FLEE FROM

(with all due haste.)


On a deserted stretch of Saskatchewan highway, after I wake up in the back of an empty car surrounded by empty cars, I watch a figure approach from the distance (I don't expect him to attack me until the door is opening and I can't wrench it shut and I barely remember to break the dream into a thousand million jagged pieces of glass).

The Road. Scare Factor: 7.

Samael's SOLO SENTENCE ESPRESSO is not at all similar to Mzzkc's ¡Single Sentence Sizzler!® and disclaims all semblance of copyright infringement thereof. That would be stealing.

★★★☆☆

01/14/10

She pours cream in her coffee, and I know she's the spy.

The woman sips at the drink as she turns and pushes into the crowd of people in the mall. I pull away from a conversation, follow at a distance. I can make out her long black coat, her long curtain of blonde hair. She breaks into a run, and I'm speeding after her. I'm falling behind, reaching out and (force pull) she's flying back into my arms. Hair falls away from her face - the wrong face. A body double. (I'm letting go of the woman, blending into the crowd.) Good.

She's going to make it fun.

I Spy. Scare Factor: 2.

Blondes and coffee seem to be a recurring trope.

★☆☆☆☆

01/01/11

"I'd like a triple Venti half-sweet white mocha, please," says the woman. Her curly brown hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and she digs through her purse for change.

I nod absently, pick up my sharpie and mark the drink, putting it on the bar next to the other three drinks that have already been ordered. My hand scrapes against the white fabric and I pause, glancing at the alarm clock on my nightstand. Two AM. Wait...

"What the fuck are you people doing in my house?" I mutter, shaking off the last fragments of the dream. Still half-asleep, I imagine that the customers are waiting impatiently in my living room. Irritated and disoriented, I curl up and try to go back to sleep.

Coffee. Scare Factor: 4.

And working New Years Day... what a nightmare.

★★★☆☆

...because burning them just isn't dramatic enough.

11/18/10



A sleek metal bridge extends over the choppy sea. I stand near the center, unable to see the shores on either side, obscured as they are by mist. Rain lashes out in sheets and the wind impedes my movement - block, parry, slash - as I slice through an imperial guard with my lightsaber.

Something is speeding towards me, about to impact. I catch the missile with Force Grip, send it spinning into an enemy tank. There's a bridge running parallel to this one, and stormtroopers are setting up missile launchers on the edge. They fire -

A wave of my hand sends them careening back into the shooters.

A spider-like droid, twice my height, uses the distraction to scuttle towards me, using its legs as blades. I dodge, jump over the droid and land a glancing blow to its head. Its head swivels towards me as it prepares for another run.

A purge trooper takes a swipe at me. It misses, barely, and I go on the offensive with a flurry of lightsaber strikes. Seconds later, it collapses to the ground, spent.

I keep a wary eye on the spider droid, but it's smarter to take out the smaller enemies first.

...and I'm skating down a barely frozen river. I'm on skis, I'm on a toboggan, I'm holding on to some sort of ski lift as it takes me up, no, down the river.

And I'm stealing some sort of precious coffee grounds. Or beans. One big pile, holding together only because it doesn't occur to me that they shouldn't.

And I'm running through a house, up stairs and through hallways and secret passages.

This room, says a voice, my voice, Was created by my father as a haven for me. No one else can enter it. And I'm laying down behind the couch so that no one can see me through the window in the door.

And then I'm me, for just a moment. I look at the door and I smirk, knowing that the family that's following me will find me, only because that's what I'm expecting. I don't care. It's a dream, and not a particularly awful one. I just want to rest and not think and play through whatever game my subconscious is dreaming up...

I wake up to the family pounding on the door, yelling. I pick myself up from the ugly, floral brown couch and pad across the room. I open a closet door methodically, pull a gun from the rack.

I'm standing in front of the door, holding a crossbow at the ready, pointing through the window. The banging has stopped, and the father asks me if I'm really going to shoot his son.

Everything's all right. The gun's not even loaded.

Exploding Bridges. Scare Factor: 2/10

As an interesting aside, I have not played the game that the picture is from. Before today, I have not seen any pictures or previews, so you can imagine my surprise when I come across an actual spider-like droid from Force Unleashed II, which the dream was based on.

Granted, mine had more legs.