A story based on a photo prompt of a clash of swords
The last piece of the jigsaw
This time I win the battle, but at what cost?
I can not escape the dream, it is an unwanted visitor.
I watch two figures battle it out. I know I am one of them, but which one is never clear, not until the end of the dream.
Every dream is the same except for my opponent.
I meet my fight partner as soon as I drift off to sleep. This week it has been my ex wife, my boss, the guy who runs the corner shop, the doctor and the dog walker, whose dog cocks its leg on my gate post each evening, but tonight I do not know my opponent. This makes the dream more terrifying.
I am fighting the unknown.
The heat of battle is almost unbearable.
It is exhausting, moving around, darting in and out, yet in bed I am thrashing about without restraint.
I try to cry out, but the words die on my lips.
The figures clash, my opponent falls then reveals his face.
‘You win.’ said death. ‘You have a choice. Come with me now, painlessly in your sleep; or wait until your waking hours, when you will be in so much pain, you will be begging me to come back.’