It'll be fun to see what the Briefers did!
My story, Dallas in Wonderland, continues this week after Dr. Samuel Levi has struck again - kissed and run! What next? Find out here, then be sure to check out the flash fiction offerings of the other Wednesday Briefers!
Dallas in Wonderland #14
Grown men don't just shrink, grown men don't just shrink, grown men…
Dallas looked at himself, down at the ground, then back again. Nothing looked different; he didn’t really feel different. He walked up to one of the easels. Placing his hand on top of his head, he moved it toward the canvas, marking his height against it, then surveyed the result critically. No way. He knew he was taller than that. That was about how tall Oz was.
Apparently, grown men do shrink.
Oddly enough, it had only happened after Samuel kissed him. Or was that some sort of ill-timed coincidence? He was feeling small, in more ways than his suddenly reduced stature. Nothing he’d just been through made any sense. This place made no sense. Where was he and how had he gotten here? Why was Samuel here and where had he gone? Why did he randomly drop in and out of Dallas’ life, without any apparent rhyme or reason? Get him all charged up and then leave him frustrated? And why were the trees orange?
He took a deep breath, willing himself to calm down. What he was thinking was preposterous. Logic told him so. This had more of the quality of a demented… Dallas snapped his fingers. Of course, that was it! Tangerine trees and marmalade skies…” It wasn’t real—it was all a dream; a crazy, albeit surreal dream. Certainly the most realistic dream he’d ever experienced. But in real life, people didn’t suddenly shrink, and neither did artists suddenly puddle into watercolors. Or acrylics. And handsome men didn’t simply appear and disappear without so much as a by your leave.
This was undoubtedly a close encounter of the bizarre kind.
Damn. Why did Samuel have to rev his engine up in that way? He’d never ached for someone so much in his entire life.
Well, if this was a dream, might as well enjoy it, if enjoy was the proper word to use. Maybe experience it?
There seemed little point in waiting about for the artists to re-materialize. He thought he needed something other than this now loose-fitting black coat to wear, although it did satisfy the basic decency requirements. He still felt odd, wearing nothing underneath it, not to mention he was almost swimming in it. Was there a psychological significance to that? Did Samuel make him feel like a child in comparison to his maturity?
Dallas shook his head to clear it. He cinched the belt on the coat, feeling less exposed. He idly eyed the palette at his feet. Bending over, he picked it up, along with the brush, and began to apply random brush strokes against the empty canvas. The lines seemed to come together, resembling a very primitive drawing of a fish. He added an eye for good measure, as well as a smile. No sooner had he finished these touches, then the fish seemed to move. It turned it’s head,regarding him, as if it were a 3-D image, rather than a two dimensional drawing. As Dallas gaped at it, the mouth opened and closed several times. Then, before his startled eyes, the fish popped off the canvas, onto the ground, wriggling through the grass.
But fish can’t do that, his logical mind protested. They need water, they need… Well, damn. He guessed dream fish could do whatever they wanted.
For something without legs, the fish moved rather quickly. He tracked its path, watching it as it beelined toward a river he’d not noticed before, with water the color of ripe strawberries. The fish stood on two fins at the edge, turned back toward Dallas and waved. Did he just hear it say, So long and thanks for… No, he surely didn’t.
Curiously, he turned back to the canvas, almost afraid to paint anything else. He had a very stray, very random thought. If he were to draw Samuel’s picture, would Samuel himself appear? Why not? His dream, his way, right?
He pictured Samuel’s face—so very handsome, so masculine, and so damn kissable. Made him hard just to think about him. He loved his long hair. How badly he wanted to unwind it from its tight plait, splay it across his face, and lose himself behind that auburn veil. He wasn’t sure he had the skills to bring the doctor to life, but he sure as hell was gonna try.
He dipped the brush into the red. Might as well start there. Lips set in concentration, he touched it to the canvas, imagining Samuel in his mind’s eye. But for some reason, what he conceived and what he painted were two different animals entirely. In fact, his painting resembled a pair of red trousers. He scratched his head, looking at it, until it burst out of the canvas, onto the ground at his feet. When he picked it up, he found a small tag attached through one belt loop: Wear me.
Dallas glanced around him. What curious business was this? The material in his hand was soft and warm, as he rubbed it between his fingers. And it looked to be about his size. His new size, that is. What the heck, he could at least try them on, right?
First one leg, then the other. He pulled the pants up, and adjusted the belt, although he didn’t remember drawing one of those, but there it was. It fit as though it were designed for his body. Testing the waters further, he kept painting and soon found himself with a black long-sleeve shirt, matching socks, and black boots. Although fully dressed, he kept the coat, simply because it smelled of Samuel.
Following the path the ersatz fish had taken, Dallas neared the red river. On the surface, lilies floated, resembling a painting by Monet, bobbing about on the gentle waves. Hearing a splash, he turned his head. A strange vessel was making its way in his direction.
At the helm, he saw a hippie…
to be continued
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Sara York m/m