Valentine's Teaser
I don't have any kissing scenes for Dreamwalker, but I do have something that feels Valentine's Day worthy--at least to me. Please ignore the fact that this is most definitely an unedited first draft. : ) Hope you enjoy it! (This is in Rachel's POV)
“I had an idea this morning. A way to prove whether or not I am traveling through time.”
A wave of emotion rolled through me, difficult to define. A mix of nerves, excitement, hope. I set aside my sketch and leaned forward. “What?” I whispered.
“I painted the wall,” he said.
“What?”
“I remembered the paintings-no, that’s not the right word-”
“Photographs?”
“Yes. I remembered the photographs you showed me of the...”
“Petroglyphs.”
“Yes, of the petroglyphs. I thought if the rock paintings you showed me could last through the ages, why couldn’t mine?”
My skin tingled in anticipation as I realized where he was going with this. “So you made a cave painting yourself, in your cave, to see if it shows up in mine?”
“Yes.”
“And if I can see it, that means you’re time traveling. If not...” I was too afraid to finish that thought. Too afraid to hope that we were only separated by dimensions rather than time.
“Yes,” he said with poorly concealed excitement. “I had just dreamwalked here to see if you could see my paintings when you arrived.”
I jumped to my feet. The desire to know the answer pulsed so strongly inside me I thought I’d explode. “What are we waiting for? Where are they?”
“Behind you.”
I turned but saw nothing more than shadows. The lantern wasn’t powerful enough to light up the entire chamber. My heart thudded in my ears as I lifted the lantern. Rider crept closer, so close the hairs on my arms rose.
The wall was blank.
Relief and disappointment flooded through me at once. Waves of emotion that originated from each half of me crashed together in the middle, drenching me and leaving behind a confused mess.
“It’s not there,” Rider said, sounding every bit as conflicted as I felt.
“That means...” we whispered in unison. “It might be possible...” again, in unison. To really, truly meet... I didn’t know about Rider, but I was afraid to say those words. Afraid to jinx it and erase any hope we had of finding a way to unseal the passageways between our dimensions. It’s funny, but as much as I didn’t believe he existed at first, as afraid as I was that I’d gone crazy, I needed him even more. Craved his company like Kim craved chocolate. That’s why I’d been so angry last night when he never showed. Because the need to see him had become an ache I couldn’t soothe. And now, with the possibility of seeing him as flesh and blood created a new ache inside me. A need greater than I thought I could ever feel.
“I wish I could have seen it. You’re painting, I mean,” I said instead.
“I wish so as well.” There was an odd quality to his voice and I wondered if he ached inside like I did.
“Maybe you can still show me.” I flipped to a new page in my sketchbook and picked up the charcoal again. “What if you traced the wall, pretending to paint it again? I could copy your movements here.”
Rider stepped closer to the wall and lifted his hand. I kept my eyes on his fingers, my own hands mirroring his. When he finally lowered his hand and I looked down to see what we’d drawn, my breath caught.
Two trapezoidal figures, similar to the Fremont’s style. Each had two eyes and a mouth, each had a series of dots above their heads-whether hair or headdresses, I couldn’t tell. One had a necklace, the other had a thick band around the waist. Their arms joined between them, like they were holding hands.
“It’s beautiful,” I whispered, tears pricking my eyes.
“It’s us,” he said. “That is, it’s how I wish we could be.”
“I had an idea this morning. A way to prove whether or not I am traveling through time.”
A wave of emotion rolled through me, difficult to define. A mix of nerves, excitement, hope. I set aside my sketch and leaned forward. “What?” I whispered.
“I painted the wall,” he said.
“What?”
“I remembered the paintings-no, that’s not the right word-”
“Photographs?”
“Yes. I remembered the photographs you showed me of the...”
“Petroglyphs.”
“Yes, of the petroglyphs. I thought if the rock paintings you showed me could last through the ages, why couldn’t mine?”
My skin tingled in anticipation as I realized where he was going with this. “So you made a cave painting yourself, in your cave, to see if it shows up in mine?”
“Yes.”
“And if I can see it, that means you’re time traveling. If not...” I was too afraid to finish that thought. Too afraid to hope that we were only separated by dimensions rather than time.
“Yes,” he said with poorly concealed excitement. “I had just dreamwalked here to see if you could see my paintings when you arrived.”
I jumped to my feet. The desire to know the answer pulsed so strongly inside me I thought I’d explode. “What are we waiting for? Where are they?”
“Behind you.”
I turned but saw nothing more than shadows. The lantern wasn’t powerful enough to light up the entire chamber. My heart thudded in my ears as I lifted the lantern. Rider crept closer, so close the hairs on my arms rose.
The wall was blank.
Relief and disappointment flooded through me at once. Waves of emotion that originated from each half of me crashed together in the middle, drenching me and leaving behind a confused mess.
“It’s not there,” Rider said, sounding every bit as conflicted as I felt.
“That means...” we whispered in unison. “It might be possible...” again, in unison. To really, truly meet... I didn’t know about Rider, but I was afraid to say those words. Afraid to jinx it and erase any hope we had of finding a way to unseal the passageways between our dimensions. It’s funny, but as much as I didn’t believe he existed at first, as afraid as I was that I’d gone crazy, I needed him even more. Craved his company like Kim craved chocolate. That’s why I’d been so angry last night when he never showed. Because the need to see him had become an ache I couldn’t soothe. And now, with the possibility of seeing him as flesh and blood created a new ache inside me. A need greater than I thought I could ever feel.
“I wish I could have seen it. You’re painting, I mean,” I said instead.
“I wish so as well.” There was an odd quality to his voice and I wondered if he ached inside like I did.
“Maybe you can still show me.” I flipped to a new page in my sketchbook and picked up the charcoal again. “What if you traced the wall, pretending to paint it again? I could copy your movements here.”
Rider stepped closer to the wall and lifted his hand. I kept my eyes on his fingers, my own hands mirroring his. When he finally lowered his hand and I looked down to see what we’d drawn, my breath caught.
Two trapezoidal figures, similar to the Fremont’s style. Each had two eyes and a mouth, each had a series of dots above their heads-whether hair or headdresses, I couldn’t tell. One had a necklace, the other had a thick band around the waist. Their arms joined between them, like they were holding hands.
“It’s beautiful,” I whispered, tears pricking my eyes.
“It’s us,” he said. “That is, it’s how I wish we could be.”