Dreamhunter

By Noah Litle

Dr. Jacob Martin stood on the prow of the Cloudscuttler, leaning on the rigging and watching the thick stratocumulus clouds pass under the ship’s hull. The fog rolled away in every direction like folded sails, broken only by the occasional towering formation.

Yes. This is where he was meant to be. Ten thousand feet above ground, feeling the wind in his hair, and listening to the sailors shout things like “Secure the jib line!” or “Hard to larboard!” or “Hoist the mainsail!” There was something very manly about shouting such things at the top of one’s lungs. Not that it meant anything to Jacob. He was just the Dreamhunter—the landlubber of the crew.

Turning his attention back to the horizon, he could make out the fist-sized dream orbs swimming through the mist. They glowed in every hue of the rainbow, each color representing a different kind of dream, which, in turn, temporarily granted the sleeper a specific ability.

He was looking for a green which gifted extraordinary powers of creativity. His client wanted a yellowish-green, though, not a bluish-green. Jacob scoffed as he wiped spray off his glasses. Experience had taught him that the difference was negligible. Still, he had to do what the client demanded, so yellowish-green, it was.

A flock of orange orbs stirred up a bit of fog off to the left. Blues dipped and breached next to the boat. A few reds zipped around the masts, being a general nuisance to the crew. No greens in sight, but they were generally the hardest to find. They were loners, unlike the more social oranges and purples.

Jacob patted his fanny pack. When it did show up, he’d be ready.

As if in response, a yellowish-green suddenly twisted and twirled just under the surface ahead.

Jacob turned. Where was Captain Quinn when he needed her?

“Secure the mainsail! Hoist the rigging! Bring her about!” He ran down the length of the ship, passing crew members, who rolled their eyes. He grinned back at them.

Standing next to the ship steering thing, Quinn scowled down at him. “What is it, Dr. Martin?”

He didn’t bother climbing the stairs, looking up at her instead—she was pretty from any angle. “I’ve found the dream we’re looking for. It’s in…” He pointed straight ahead, and a little to the right of the boat. “…that direction.”

She grunted acknowledgment, turning to the guy steering. “Adjust our course. East-northeast.”

Jacob put a hand out to the stairs, casually steadying himself as the boat leaned into the turn. He glanced over his shoulder, picking out the green now directly in their path.

“Thank you, Captain. But we’ll have to hurry, if…”

Jacob trailed off as a shadow grew in the cumulus formation behind them. A shadow at least twice as tall as the Cloudscuttler. A shadow with masts and rigging.

“Uh…” he said, struck speechless by the image.

“Well, Doctor? What is it? Spit it out.” Quinn looked down on him—probably in more ways than one.

“Look.” He pointed to the huge ship just as it cleared the mist, revealing its entire crimson, triple masted majesty.

Quinn obliged, glancing behind her. “Thunder and lightning. It’s Cerberus’ Nightmare.” She turned and ran down the stairs.

“That’s… a very specific way to describe it,” Jacob said.

“It’s the name of the ship, idiot.” She whacked him on the back of the head as she passed.

Ow. “Oh. Of course.”

“All hands on deck!” She shouted, then proceeded to spout sailor gibberish, the crew moving in double time to her every word.

Jacob pushed his glasses up his nose, watching in silence and trying in vain not to be in the way.

Quinn soon turned to Jacob. “We’re going to lose the orb if this gets ugly. We could have outrun her if we had seen her sooner. But now? They have the weather gauge. We can’t run this time. Not fast enough.”

“Thundering typhoons.” Jacob folded his arms, scowling. “I’m nearly out of food at home. I need this.”

Quinn raised an eyebrow. “Well, I wouldn’t worry about it. You’ll probably die out here. Then your pantry won’t matter.”

He snapped his fingers. “Wait!”

Her annoyance barely hid behind her sigh.

“Do you have a jolly boat I could borrow?”

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Lifeboats? Yes. Of course we have lifeboats.”

“You lead the Nightmare on a merry chase across the clouds. Meanwhile, I’ll take a lifeboat, finish the mission and parachute out for a convenient getaway. We’ll meet land-side for remuneration.”

Besides, he thought, sky-diving out would be fun.

Her skeptical expression morphed into a smile as beautiful as the dreams in the night sky. She grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him quickly.

Jacob stared at her. Then he grinned. It seemed the only appropriate response.

“Get your parachute. I’ll get your ‘jolly boat’ ready.” She started shouting her gibberish again, all signs of her affection gone.

Jacob ran below to grab his net and parachute. Back on deck, he climbed into the lifeboat. Captain Quinn watched, smiling as they lowered him into the rolling clouds.

He saluted. “See you on the ground, Captain.”

She saluted back. “See you land-side, Doctor.”

He grabbed his oars and pulled toward the green bobbing orb in the distance.

The Cloudscuttler turned sideways, sailing away at a good clip.

Cerberus’ Nightmare turned as well. By the time they were back on track, however, the Cloudscuttler had turned again, zig-zagging and gaining hand over fist.

Jacob smiled. “’Atta girl.”

He glanced over his shoulder at the dream. It was circling back toward him.

“Thank God!”

He snatched his net and scooped up the glowing ball. He stood and buttoned the orb in his fanny pack. Finally. He could deliver his prize—and fill his pantry again.

He gave the retreating ships one last glance before closing his eyes, spreading his arms, and falling backward into the mist.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Noah Litle, as a writer, is best described as a reluctant wordsmith. His real passion is for stories and story analysis. He likes rainy days, hanging out with his friends and family, and analyzing his favorite movies. His dream is to glorify his Creator through glorious art, and practices doing so through arranging music, creating with Legos, designing the occasional origami model, and of course, writing stories.

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