You thought this was a chemist but the walls display inks, all different, all glowing. The proprietor waits, pen poised above blank sheet. Dreams to order. Yes?
Some progress at last! A shipment of blues, violets, sheening reds with a touch of gold dust.
These mix up to so many dreamscapes: oceans, ateliers, operas, phantoms, secret clubs in smoke-filled basements, nights spent walking along the Seine.
Could anyone use a dream tonight?
Apologies for the silence. The ink supply has (ahaha) dried up. Speculation as to the cause is rife.
BUT as luck would have it, a stray parcel of reds did find its way to me - almandine red, aril scarlet, crimson sanguine.
Could anyone use a dream the colour of blood and roses?
You want to be careful working with inks left forgotten too long.
Its dusty and dark at the back of the cupboard, not even the briefest flashes of light reach into the glass and sometimes those inks are best left dreaming.
The first time I used the slate grey was the last.
1/?
Perhaps a few drops of liquid to turn this mostly-residue back into workable ink. Watered down dreams are strange, unpredictable, but sometimes a little floatyness is no bad thing.
I shall continue to recount the story of the dustbowl carnival & the lion tamer soon. It is a tale worth hearing for all that it does not paint me in the best light. I have, I hope, learned much since then.
Perhaps I should also offer you the tale of how I came to own this shop?
Apologies for the silence. The ink supply has (ahaha) dried up. Speculation as to the cause is rife.
BUT as luck would have it, a stray parcel of reds did find its way to me - almandine red, aril scarlet, crimson sanguine.
Could anyone use a dream the colour of blood and roses?
@nachimir Slow rolling fog and, lumbering ankle-deep through it, a herd of brontosaurs.
Iโd been writing with carbon ink - the rumble and shake of the train notwithstanding - and the radiocarbon must have hailed from the jurassic to have me daydreaming these maybe-fictional creatures.
@TheRealDoctorT Yes. You hope they are happy with their choices. That you were worth it. Even though they tell you this often, you still hope it's true.
Shrugging off his coat, he wandered into the cool of the fairground. Nights like this suited the carnival best, all bustle and chatter and the worker's cheerful shouts, the warm tungsten glow holding back the darkness.
It was the only place that had ever felt like home.
15/?
You want to be careful working with inks left forgotten too long.
Its dusty and dark at the back of the cupboard, not even the briefest flashes of light reach into the glass and sometimes those inks are best left dreaming.
The first time I used the slate grey was the last.
1/?
And after, when his act had ended, and before hers began, one of the flyers - a trapeze artist glittering in silver and red - kissing him fiercely for luck. Promising to see him later in the trailer that they shared. Promising, laughing (as she always did) not to fall.
14/?