Dead Man contemplated as he walked down the road. Having lost his shadow soon after he woke up in this world, the creatures of the eternal night didn't bother to attack him, giving him nothing to worry about as he strolled down the Black Road.
The only problem was time.
Without any light or sun rise, there is no way to accurately measure time in the Shadow lands. After every sixty steps DM would have to take a swig from his drink. Around the tenth drink he would have to change out the bottle where his stomach used to be and start drinking from that bottle. After having done this for so many years of his 'life', he did this without much though.
His thoughts dealt with a single image. A face and body. Something from a far dream...
Minutes pass, and then hours. How many passed are unknown since DM didn't count.
The thought had to be kept.
After canyons and petrified trees, DM finally reach the doors to his large mansion made from rock and brick. He pushed through and walked by his paintings, shelves of bottles, and continued down towards forge. The fire in the forge still had some heat from days ago and he threw in some logs to start it up again. After pumping the bellows to where he wanted the heat to be, he grabbed a cupful of broken glass he kept nearby in a pot and dropped them in a metal pot.
Time passed. Only the image was within his grasp. Just heat the glass more in this area...
Then it was done.
The glass cooled and figure was finished. Once again it was a female figure dancing. The face was smoothed out just like the rest, but the pose was different than the others he had done. He placed it to the side and looked at it for a bit.
Why did he do these glass sculptures? Maybe a hobby at first, but was there a reason? He didn't understand either. Just dreams within the darkness of...
How long did he take a drink? Where was his bottle!?
He started rushed to the other side where he placed the figure but he started to slow down. He looked at the tools he was using for the familiar shape of the glass bottle and found it next to the corner. As he grabbed the bottle, he could feel parts of him slowing to a stop. He lifted the bottle to his teeth...
And the cold took him again.
Time isn't real. What passes in death? And where does the dream begin or end?
DM woke up again with an empty bottle. Something was different. Dust covered him and his surroundings. Noises outside the forge were sounding threatening. And there was the girl in front of him. The girl looking at him with horror. The girl with a familiar face...
“What are you doing in my house?”
To be continued in part 3.
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