Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-9041013-20180621195836

Alright, as my last piece was half assed and obviously flailed like a fish out of water. I have decided, following some genuinely good (and challange laying) rviews to give the idea a legit shot and this is what came out of it. For now it is unnamed, and I am thinking about naming it "Tartars Are The Exception" because it's a tongue and cheek kind of sentence about a certain something in my story that make sense but doesn't give out that much ________________________________________________________________________

All I needed was the last thing I wanted, to sit alone in my room and take time to reflect about my life. For the last few years I've been leading a very stressful life. Serving in the military and developing unhealthy habits due to my job requirements. Right now, caffeine is the only thing that keeps me going in my everyday life.

Fortunately, my workaholic tendencies have gotten me sent home on a vacation curtesy of my oh-so generous boss. Which is a good thing of course mostly because I've started feeling as if I was burning out.

I don't really care what people say, taking stress out of one's system takes a while and I am working on it. I actually started horse riding once more during my vacation as a therapy of sorts. Haven't done that since I was a kid. I digress though, my main problem with being stressed isn't feeling tired and kind of sore all the time but rather the fact that it gives me very weird dreams. Dare I call them nightmares? No. Usually my stressed induced dreams aren't really scary, I just end up waking up wondering "What the hell was that". Last night however, that wasn't a usual weird dream.

A few hours ago, I experienced my first true nightmare in years.

Boy was it unpleasant!

It all started yesterday during the evening hours, it wasn't really late but my pent-up exhaustion must've gotten the best of me. Seeing as how when the skies went from orange and red to black splattered with tiny sprinkles of white my enteral clock forced me to drop on my bed as soon as the soothing sounds of Altan Urag's music filled my ears through the headphones. In a matter of moments, I couldn't even keep my eyes open. I was fading into the dream world.

The music was replaced by blissful silence which lasted for what seemed like a few moments before I could hear someone calling out from the distance. "Nicco… Nicco… Niccolo" the calls kept getting louder with each attempt at reaching whom ever they were destined to reach.

I must be dreaming, I mused to myself.

The calls wouldn't stop and eventually I've opened my eyes to a whole new scenery. I was no longer in my apartment bedroom, but rather in some stone building with a rather large room made of stone with a square window built into the wall my body had been facing. A weirdly dressed man was shaking me, his touch felt so real. I could tell apart each one of his fingers on my shoulder. He was dressed as you'd expect a medieval peasant type of person to be dressed, sporting a simple long-sleeved shirt and cloth pants. I came to realize he wasn't a peasant once my senses became clear enough for me to notice the leather armor he was wearing and his head guard.

Internally confused, I heard words come out of my mouth without me speaking them, "Oh thank the Lord it's you, Girolamo! Someone else's would've surely busted me out for falling asleep on guard!"

Definitely a dream, I thought to myself.

Do you ever get these dreams in which you are fully aware of it being a dream but cannot really do much about it other than just passively watch the events unfold? Yeah, that one of those for me.

Anyways, I remember feeling myself rise from the floor as I looked around noticing it was dusk all over in my dream world. The man who I assumed to be a friend of my dream-self was chuckling as he looked at what must've been a panic expression on my face.

"You are blessed, Niccolo!" he proclaimed joyfully.

"As are we all, it seems, the Tartars are quiet today" I responded as I stared through the window looking down at a massive stone wall that stood between me, some Italian city and what seemed to be like a siege encampment. A sea of tents stood below me, each with a few horses around it and most keeping a dog or two around along with a small fire at each tent's base. They weren't fancy in any way, but they were sure as hell efficient. I've also managed to detect a few Trebuchets standing at various points in the camp. These things sure do look impressive.

I am standing between the bloody Mongols and their target, my mind turned hysteric at the sheer sight of what stood some measly meters beneath my feet.

The man that woke me up placed his bow on the window's ledge and spoke, "Seems like we are all blessed, my friend. Their numbers seem to be dwindling! God will deliver us from these devils."

"Oh yeah, is that so? The crafty bastards might be feigning retreat to lure us out" I heard myself respond with a tone of skepticism.

The man turned his head towards me, his tired brown eyes locked with mine. I couldn't detect even a slightest hint of doubt in him when he said, "Rumors are circulating that they've been stricken by a plague".

I stared at him for a moment before turning to watch the sunset, it was so beautiful that I had to bask in every moment of it. As I was looking at the setting sun I heard my dream-self state without breaking my gaze from the scenery, "Rumors say they are also immortal, and yet countless have probably fallen throughout their conquests. I hope that what you speak of is true, for we don't know when will the republic send in reinforcements."

The man let out a chuckle, "Soon enough, we won't have to defend anything… The wealthy are leaving through the sea!"

I felt dream-self chuckle at the remark, "You and I aren't going anywhere any time soon, pal" my body retorted.

I then felt myself turn away from the window and make my way towards the exit of the room. I could hear the man calling out to me, "We aren't wealthy enough to leave! Ha!"

As I made my way down the building, I could feel every inch of stone beneath my feet. I saw myself run my fingers across the stony walls. The touch felt authentic. There was no numbness associated with a dream. As I came down I proceeded to make my way through the inner workings of the town's wall and step into the streets.

Everything seemed so gloomy and gray. A feeling of melancholy had washed all over me and memories which were not my own overcame my mind in which I could clearly see that same dream city as a lively and vibrant place. My dream-self became lost in thought and all of the sudden I heard a muffled whimper, snapping out of in dream pondering I came to realize I am standing on what looked to be a child's arm.

My dream-self moved its foot away and placed a hand on it's face in disappointment. Kneeling down I noticed just how bad was the shape of this kid, he was dying of hunger. I've never seen a child this thin. I could pretty much tell the shape of the child's skeleton. I could see each and every last bone pressed against his dry skin. His eyes, oh god, his eyes they were bulging out with almost no glimmer of life in them. The yellow tint in his eyes also told me that the kid wasn't just starving, he was also ailing, badly.

As I was inspecting the child helplessly, I felt something tug at the leg of my dream-self. Turning around I found a woman crawling on the floor, she was begging for money, for food, for anything.

Assuming it was the child's mother, I could feel a rage slowly boil inside me as she wasn't begging for help for her child but rather begged for her own salvation.

Dire situations make us selfish, that's just human nature and there is nothing we could do about it. I wish I could tell that to my dream-self as I had to helplessly watch him kick the begging woman before storming off to the local inn.

The rage slowly subsided as my dream-self made his way towards the inn and it was mostly gone by the time had reached the facility. As the doors of the inn were opened ajar the beautiful music filled my ears and my dream-self was approached by a young, redheaded woman whom he greeted with obvious joy erupting through my mouth as Sophia.

Sophia was a beautiful girl, possessing the right amount of everything I find attractive in women. Looking at her blue eyes I noticed that same tiredness that was present in Girolamo's eyes earlier. Sophie rushed behind the inn's counter as my dream-self made itself comfortable at its other side and offered me a drink which I gladly accepted.

I felt the alcohol make its way down my throat and the world around me began spinning violently. I felt like I was being shaken uncontrollably all the while the medieval Italian bar music shifted it's sound towards a more familiar oriental one.

The feeling of vertigo had gotten worse for a few moments until I opened my eyes. I was surrounded by complete darkness, and the space around started slowing down and settling in it's place as I could almost clearly hear Altan Urag's music flooding my auditory organs. Turning to the side I felt a knot forming in my stomach, for a single moment I was certain I had seen the emaciated skeletal face staring at me that is until my sight adjusted to the darkness in my room and I saw that I was looking at a pile of clothes on my chair.

Clearly shaken, losing my fucking mind, I said out loud to myself before making my way towards the kitchen for a cup of water. After I was done rehydrating I made my way back to my bedroom and turned the music off before making myself comfortable in bed once more.

I felt the blissful darkness of sleep creep up on me pretty quickly, and honestly it wasn't much of a surprise either. As I've mentioned earlier, I do really get easily bothered my weird dreams at up to this point it is all that it was – a weird dream.

For a while there was nothing but darkness inside my personal kingdom of dreams. The first lifelike thing that came to my attention in my hypnic reality was the smell. An awful smell of something burning.

It was smoke, a whole lot of it.

Slowly, a sense of heaviness overcame me and then I could make out people coughing and moaning in agony. Soon after, my sight came back to me and I found myself laying on the floor of that same inn I was dreaming about before. This time around however it had two holes in it; one in the ceiling and one in a wall.

Fire engulfed everything, literally everything as the dread began to drown my being I came to notice my dream-self get up to his feet drowsily. Once back up I could tell that a couple of large boulders have landed inside the inn, destroying everything in their path.

My dream-self looked around trying to make sense of everything around it. The sights, I must say, weren't pleasant to say the least. Broken wood, fire, smoke, and torn bodies. A bunch of dismembered people. Some dead and some still alive, wishing for death's sweet touch.

The sight of some elderly men laying next to his mostly severed lower half in what seemed like full consciousness clutching at bits of his guts as only a tiny string of his bowels held his body together made me want to throw up. A whirlwind of emotions consisting mostly of disgust, fear, anxiety and intensity coursed through my mind. Grief and pain were added to that list as my dream-self came to notice Sophia impaled through her torso by a large log. He rushed to her and she forced a pained smile as he grabbed her face, falsely reassuring her that everything will be alright. All of knew nothing would be alright for her however as her mostly white and green gown was now covered in her crimson life juice.

I could feel the tears stream down my dream-self's cheeks as he tightened his grip around Sophia's head yanked it sideways, causing a slight yet disgusting pop sound to come out of her neck as it snapped.

She was put out of her misery and that’s when I went emotionally blank.

My dream-self pushed through the heartbreak and made his way out towards the town's walls. As I saw the panicked town's folk being pushed aside by the garrison men I started hearing the overwhelming noise that came from beyond the city. The Mongols were rallying themselves, possibly trying to freak out the town's people into submission. Whistling, shouting and the sounds of hooves crushing against the ground proved to be nothing compared to the sound of a Trebuchet launching a biological weapon strapped to a flaming rock.

As my dream-self was about to reach the walls, I heard a Trebuchet's mechanism pop and noticed myself looking up. A human shaped object was side by side with the flaming boulders into the city.

Everything after that was a blur.

Without noticing I found myself atop the walls nearing a watch tower as another Mongolian death projectile came flying my way.

A loud bang followed it's landing, and once the smoke began clearing I found my dream-self to be unscathed, on the other hand, Girolamo hadn't been so lucky. It seemed like part of the projectile hit him square in the head destroying his cranium.

Hopefully he was dead on the spot, but if he was not then I can only imagine what it feels like having pieces of your shattered skull and bits of your brain matter lay splattered all over the floor next to your wasting body.

Next to Girolamo I saw a prone body of an Asian man, he was dressed in silk that did not cover the grotesque cause of his death. Black blisters covered his body, his frame was thin and fail like that of a Tuberculotic and his digests were coal black.

The sight of his dead friend made my dream-self snap and he loaded his bow, I could feel the full force of his draw. The arrow flew through the sky, gracefully making its way through the sky to hit its mark.

The Mongol shuddered but did not fall from his horse and the sight surprised my dream self who decided to fire another arrow into the same Mongol. The second arrow hit it's mark once more but it did not topple the man. Perhaps the Mongols were truly immortal or supported by some otherworld force in their day. I could clearly see that the Mongol soldier was enjoying himself at the look of disbelief he must've caught my dream-self's face as I noticed him shake with laughter on top of his horse.

My dream-self was about to fire a third arrow as something heavy collided with his body. I could feel a searing pain course through my torso as I felt my neck and back hitting the floor.

So much pain….

Everything went black for a nanosecond and then it all came back, but dull. My sight gradually lost clarity and my hearing became hampered by a terrible buzzing noise. I could feel myself breathing hastily in my dream as each breath became more labored and painful than the previous. Looking down I saw a huge hole gushing with blood and gore in my chest.

I felt my way around the wound and as I did everything faded to black.

When I finally woke up, it was this morning and I was covered in cold sweat with terrible pain radiating from an old scar on my chest, one which I have as a permanent reminder of a wound I sustained during a horse riding accident that effectively made me give up on that hobby until recently. 