The Chronicles of Rune

The dead inhabited Dean's dream . . . as well as most of his other dreams current to that time . . . but not as zombies by a long shot, but vital and quick. It was his Dad, Grandma, and Aunt Laura . . . Alive and well, appearing every night, on the stage in my head.

Dean woke up groggy, remembering the words she had spoken ". . . It's about being dead inside," Kiki Lee said, "about refusal to enjoy life on life's terms . . . "

At some point Dean found himself walking along railroad tracks with a person that strongly inhabits the murky depth of his head. Primarily the sexual fantasy lobe of his brain.

A hazy green smoky smell followed Kiki Lee almost everywhere she went, although the smell of diesel and heavy grease overwhelmed the nose. There was also the metallic heat scent from the friction of iron wheels on rails. They were walking almost ten feet away from a slowly moving freight train. The hugeness of a train that close drowned out the scenery, blindsided by the dirt brown boxcars, splashed with bright graffiti tags and oil vanquished what our eyes could see otherwise. They walked quietly in the intermittent shadows like vampire ninjas. A solid downpour broke from the the clouds, it was a massive thunderstorm, but they had no care, since lightning would probably hit metal because there was an excessively long row of boxcars, and it took three engines to pull that juggernaut. The train seemed to be an endless, repetitive, movable building.

So now Kiki smelled of nothing but wet hair . . . strobe flashes exposed exotic and supernatural creatures in the shadows . . . lightning framed the clouds with an electric lining . . . clouds that seemed to be insulators for the torrent of electricity . . . "Every mushroom cloud has a silver lining" (Owl City) . . . so it became appearant that being soaking wet was a good thing . . . rain helped in lubricating the conversation.

A splash of lightning opened up the pathway to an ancient footbridge that was hung over the railway, it was mostly wrought iron, built to last like most railroad structures; it was built soundly like most constructs along the line, with simplicity and solidity, constructed like a testament to the ages. It was, in fact, a testament to an immeasurable payload it supported, being rolled over or shaking of a nearby behemoth crawling across the land. A basic block structure usually.

That footbridge spanning over the tracks was a little more Gothic than most railroad designs, the main posts were topped with large metal spheres, in between which were spines tapering to points, like a rib-cage made of spears. Underneath, the primary girders holding the legs together were low enough to sit on, that spot was also a good shelter from the pouring rain. Valentine was waiting for us there.

Dean had a lot of questions for Valentine and Kiki Lee, but he listened intently instead. listened and looked, thinking, with just a nudge of desire "Of course. Kiki all fine and hot, and the stuff. . . but unlikely . . ." Kiki Lee is a former porn star whose ghetto booty rivaled those sported by women of color, built like a brick shithouse as it were. Beyond her voluptuous body, Kiki had it all, right down to her slightly less than oval face; she had thick, pouted lips and huge eyes that fluttered when she flirted, which was anytime she spoke.

Valentine is a mysterious, petite Spanish woman, cute to the point that she was almost unbearable to look at; but it could be seen in her brown eyes that that she is an agent of evil when it comes to sex, drugs, and whatsoever else she has her mind set on; Valentine was very down to business when she spoke, she rarely flirted, at least not obviously. She speaks in a precise, Midwestern dialect, and has a surprisingly low voice, she retained only a hint of her native accent. She was generally a neat dresser, and carried the mannerisms of a charm school graduate.

Valentine's hair was jet black, kept excessively neat in a brisk pixie cut, and hazel-eyed Kiki had a blonde, frizzy and unkempt shag plastered with a full can of hairspray and teased to a point that it would make every 80s television actress jealous. Kiki was dressed "to kill", often wearing a short cut and tight classic motorcycle jacket, a low cut V neck shirt (bra straps visible), tight jeans, shorts or miniskirt. Val, on the other hand, was smartly sharp, almost as a Catholic Schoolgirl, minus the plaid. they were so different on the outside, but almost as identical as twins in their mysterious ways. Dean was not unlike most men, the way women thought was both mysterious and mystical to his meager perception.