Green Sky Blues

A green light tore through the ceiling as the group moved through the vast, stone complex. The key was hidden inside one of the stone pillars, and they were desperate to reach it before the moon was full. "Jackson, you ready?" Anya called out, the leader of the group. She was tall, black, a long ponytail over a black combat uniform accentuating her commanding yet alluring appearance.

"Yeah, just give me a few." Jackson was talking over an earpiece she wore as the group saw lights emerging through a doorway ahead of them. "Gonna need some cover soon, and fast," Anya sounded disgruntled, gritting her teeth and gripping her semi-automatic as the rest of the team members, who looked like Greek warriors of old, and similarly armed, faded in and out of existence. One looked at her knowingly, and they both nodded in acknowledgment.

"Yeah, well, some things can't be rushed," Jackson almost sounded humorous in his tone as she gritted her teeth and pushed on, the lights getting brighter as the room began to shake.

"Shit!" she called out, "better get it now or else we're dead, just like last time." "Alright, just hang on a…." Just at that moment, a chunk of the ceiling was ripped off, green light turning to blue light as Anya aimed for the giant hand that now reached in.

The place was a mess of bullets as they ricochet off the hand, and Anya dived for cover, the door opening as round, white cells emerged, absorbing each bullet as they merged with the hand, which then reached around each of the pillars, searching.

"Goddammit," she cursed as she heard static in her ear. "Jackson, you copy? Jackson!" Only silence as she heard the wind from the hand now reaching around each pillar as reloaded her gun. "Fat chance that'll do anything but still…."

She suddenly saw the outline of a key in one of the pillars, and her eyes widened. She dove for it, just as the hand seemed to react in an instant, and went for her. The key seemed to jump out of the pillar as she grabbed for it, the hand barely missing her as she rolled on the floor and inserted it into an emerging keyhole in the ground.

The floor at that moment seemed to divide in two; the walls now disappeared into the distance as white light poured up from within. "Well, here goes nothing," she sighed and dove on in, the hand now being caught in an enveloping white light from above.

She dived on down until she disappeared into nothingness, and Carter Thompson woke up from the fading dream. Blue lightning streaked across his face as thunder boomed nearby. He felt under his pillow and found it: the key from the dream. He smiled and opened the window to see the dark green clouds outside.

"Showtime," he said, and put on his coat, still in his pajamas as he snuck outside onto the rooftop. The storm was now growing more intense as he made himself comfortable on the sloped roof. He had dark hair on fair skin, hazel eyes almost disappearing into the darkness as he took out his pocketbook and watched as shapes began to form in the clouds.

Every night, around this time of year, if he retrieved the key from the dream, he would wake up to find it, and the storms outside would oblige. Several other friends of his could do the same, but they'd disappeared, and Carter was sure he was next but didn't care.

His grandfather had told tales of the storm gods, entities that visited when the dream was gifted to those who could receive it, and the key unlocked. They delivered messages sometimes, their thunderbolts like inspiration to those who saw them. They had been passed down from generation to generation, only a select few seeing them, but he didn't know why.

His grandfather had told him of a book on the legend, but he didn't know where, only that it was hidden in a library, somewhere in the world, where a clock told the zodiac signs. He yearned to go there someday but, for now, contented himself by visiting with the gods as they unfurled their spectacle.

He looked at his notebook, filled with sketches. He liked to draw and mostly in charcoal. A pitched battle between the Greek gods of old. A quiet, beautiful scene of a blissful family in front of a fire; a chariot race, and, his favorite, an older man who stood cross-legged in the crowds and conversed with Carter.

He could not remember the words, but he somehow heard them in his head, like a sweet song that only a dream memory can tell once deciphered. It spoke of the deeper worlds and realms as yet uncharted, which only dreams could unlock, given the right key.

He hoped the gods would show up again to tell him these tales, and the lightning grew suddenly more intense as if responding. He waited with bated breath as the figure of a giant made itself known in the cloud above, its giant heard forming subtly but discernibly as tiny pinpricks of starlight could be seen for its eyes.

He smiled as the head suddenly smiled, too, lightning streaking across its face as thunder boomed around him. He heard voices in his head, a great rasping like an older man's labored breathing before the face began to fall apart. He looked on curiously as chariots in wisps of cloud began emerging from the sides of the great face, now torn asunder by further lightning streaks.

They appeared to meet in the middle before merging, men now emerging from the sides as the lightning grew more intense. He'd never seen this kind of show before and sat mesmerized as a pitched battle began taking place. Men with spears were throwing them at each other, and each impact sent a lightning bolt hurtling down to the ground below.

Several were too close for comfort, and he almost recoiled for safety before explosions were seen as cloud wisps fanned out like waves in the ocean. He felt rain falling, but heavier, almost like small stones, but they didn't hurt. He wondered what on earth was going on as the ground now shook with thunder.

Two gigantic figures now appeared from either side, resembling ancient athletes as they seemed to merge, arms entwining then disappearing as lightning followed each entwinement. He stared in aww, as the battle now becomes more chaotic, bizarre forms appearing, tentacled, many-legged, as he suddenly grew worried.

Never before had he seen the spectacle of this variety and magnitude, and he wondered whether he should go inside, but something told him to stay as winged figures in the cloud now appeared out of nowhere. He could only make out their wings, black and like butterflies, as they emerged like patterns in a light show, weaving in and out of the clouds themselves.

Were they real, he wondered? Or a figment of his imagination now stimulated by some unknown force now controlling this event? Had the whole thing been imaginary? He began to question as the shapes seemed to move closer, gliding down until he could see them: giant, half-human, half-quadruped creatures, centaur-like as gleaming blue eyes blinkered out of the darkness, occasionally magnified by the lightening until they disappeared one by one.

He felt rain now, only it had an odd, soothing feeling, like gentle bubbles in a warm bath. The figures were now melting in the clouds above, the lightning growing less intense, but as he noticed one of the strikes, he could see a figure, kneeling at the end of it; tall, dark, with bulging features which walked off into the distance.

He gazed, eyes-wide, as more of these figures now appeared. He suddenly grew nervous and felt the immediate need to go inside. He was paralyzed, though, and could only stare at one of the figures moving towards the house. It was huge, easily eight feet tall, with marble-like skin, almost like a walking statue, with glazed eyes and an animated light which seemed to pulsate through it, going from complete darkness to bright whiteness in an instant.

He was transfixed as it seemed to walk through his fence and stared at him, the pulsating now growing more pronounced but less bright. He saw nothing in his face apart from vaguely human eyes and a mouth that remained completely still.

He heard the whispering again in his head, a few odd cries here and there, before seeing two of his friends suddenly. They seemed happy, with glimpses of them as they were much older flashing in and out of view. The figure now seemed to smile and reached out its hand, beckoning.

"Come with me," he heard a whisper as the lips did not move. "Come with me and find a better place, one away from the trappings of your mortal world." He wanted to respond but could not as the figure seemed to grow larger in stature, now approaching the height of the roof.

He felt for his notebook, but it was gone as the figure stretched out its hand some more. "It's okay, don't be afraid," it whispered in its head, "I am no more a danger to you than you are to yourself. You were chosen for something special, and I can't wait for you to discover the rest of your journey."

The figure almost seemed to smile as Carter now felt a pull in its direction. "Take my hand," it whispered again, "and discover the light and your true purpose." Then, to his surprise, he suddenly raised himself and floated, the figure now smiling wider as Carter floated towards it. The figure took him in the palm of his hand, and Carter now levitated in its center as both he and the figure slowly receded into the distance, Carter's vision now fading as he saw himself from behind.

A few months later, a young boy, two streets away, looked up at the night sky one evening. He saw storm clouds in the distance and felt an urge to look at them. His mother had told him to sleep, but he couldn't, and he was transfixed as he saw what appeared to be the face of a young man who looked familiar.

He'd seen him on the news, the boy who'd vanished, just like several of his friends had. The boy's face formed in the clouds, lighting streaking across it as the boy looked at him more intently. Behind him, what looked like figures on horses were galloping towards him, the storm now radiating electricity.

The boy stared intently, hearing what sounded like voices whispering to him. He could barely make out the words, but the face in the cloud seemed to smile, a hand now reaching out, the boy almost feeling like he could touch it. Normally he'd be afraid, but he felt calm as the eyes in the face above seemed to grow brighter.

"Don't be afraid," said a distinct voice in his head, "our journey has yet begun, we are the chosen, and our time is yet at hand."

The boy smiled and felt the urge to sleep, suddenly, as he lay back in bed, drawing the curtains and dreaming of a long labyrinth with a green light above it, shining through the roof in intervals. The voice called out again. "All you need is the key, and the work can begin."

He saw himself as a Greek warrior of old and saw a woman approaching him at a distance. Anya, Anya was her name, and she smiled as she saw him.