The Sea of Dreams spat me out with no memories, no idea of who I was or what my purpose might be. When Captain Bo, dream killer extraordinaire, arrived, I took a chance to explore. On the road of discovery, I tripped upon dreamplanes floating dead in a graveyard, scared children attempting to survive their dreams turned nightmare, strange guardians, rogue Dreamlanders, and ships with hearts of silver. I learned more about Dreamland than I ever thought possible. But people are dying. They’re disappearing. Dreamland is twisting, shifting, ripping. I don’t know how best to help, how to save those I’ve met, who have wormed their way into my heart. If only I knew who I was, what I’d been born to do. Then I found out. I know who I am. I wish I didn’t.
Dream Killers is geared for fans of Once Upon a Time. The first season (Spring 2014) consists of 3 novellas called episodes. It follows River as he discovers who he is and his role in Dreamland. Dream Killers is to Dreamland Stories what Agents of Shield is to the Marvel movies. Dreamland is an intense, rich, fascinating world with lots going on. If you like fairy tales, are looking for something new,try this one.
Dream Killers Excerpt
A plume of white smoke rose in the air. A river boat sat at the mouth of a wide river, steam billowing from its wide, red chimney. The large, white wheel at the back was still.
“What ho, Captain Bo,” a man shouted from the dead boat.
Bo waved. “I received your distress signal, Cable. Didn’t I just save you not too long ago?”
The two boats settled close to one another, the river boat much lower and dwarfed. A man in a black suit stood on the red, flat roof gripping the lapels of his jacket. A black Stetson rode his head, creating a shadow on his face. “Over a year ago, Bo. I’m not wasting power.”
A boat was lowered by ropes near us.
Mr. Levee waited beside it, the net in his arms. He handed it to the captain like it was any other day.
Don’t let them kill me! The male dreamer screamed.
I jerked, every hair on the back of my arms raised. Hadn’t anyone else heard that?
By their carefree smiles, the obvious answer was no.
Bo leapt into the boat with a small crew and tucked the net under the floorboards beside him. “Are you coming, Riv?”
Bile laced the back of my throat. I clambered onto the rail and launched myself at the boat. My right foot caught the edge of a bench seat, sending me to the bottom. My left foot landed on someone else’s foot as the boat swayed on the ropes. I fell forward, one hand catching the edge of the dinghy while the other landed on air. My cheekbone connected with hard wood.
The sailors laughed.
Bo shook his head, the corner of his lips raising. “You’ll get your sea legs yet.”
I pushed myself into a seated position, my face flaming with embarrassment.
We were lowered into the water and the men rowed us toward the riverboat.
The same man that had been on the roof moments before was at the landing area at the front. He offered the captain a hand. “You know where the engine is.”
“As long as it hasn’t moved.” Bo turned and took the net from one of the men in the boat. “Are you coming, Riv?” He headed below decks.
This ship was made of metal. It smelled and sounded different.
“Bo, what are we doing here?”
He ignored my question and stepped into a room filled with equipment whose names came to me sluggishly. Engine. Compressor. Boiler.
Bo took the net to the engine and untied the knot. With one hand on the silent motor, he reached into the net. “I’ve never had a haul like this before, Riv. Look at all of them. We could eat for a year from this haul.”
Ghost hands reached up, clawing their way out of the net.
Bo grasped one of them and pulled.
It screamed.
My throat closed, my shoulders tensed. The bottom of my stomach fell. I ran toward the net.
Bo touched the dream to the motor.
Light exploded around me, shattering my reality.
A man walked through a broken neighborhood. A boy bounced a basketball. A car rumbled by. A dance studio. The man danced, pouring his heart into his body as he moved to the music in a way I never knew was possible.
Everything shifted. Something became lost. He danced, leapt and pounded backwards. The car rumbled in reverse. The basketball jumped to the boy’s hand. The man retracted his steps.
Fast forward.
The man sat at a computer, took notes, and punched numbers on a calculator. Paper piled around him like trash. Numbers, dollar signs, and decimal points littered the air like the bars of a cage.
My chest tightened. I couldn’t breathe. I had to get out. Get out.
And do what? Accounting was the only thing I was good at. No wife to call my own. No kids. Not even a cat. I belonged to no one. I was a nothing. I existed for numbers.
These damn numbers. These damn dollar signs. These damn decimal points. On and on. Never meaning anything. Where was the heart? Where was the purpose? Where had hope gone? Where had life disappeared to?
Paper scattered. The dollar signs and decimal points floated from the air, falling to the floor with dull thuds.
The man hung from a rope, his chair kicked out, his neck bent at an odd angle. He gasped for breath, but his fingers remained listless at his side.
My life became a jail. I would rather die than live it.
The motor roared to life, filling the room with overwhelming noise.
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Meet the Author:
SM “Frankie” Blooding lives in Colorado with her pet rock, Rockie, and Jack the Bird. Jack has refused to let her to take up the piano again, but is warming to the guitar. It might help that Frankie has learned more than two strings. She’s added a few more Arabic words to her vocabulary, but don’t invite her into conversation yet—unless, of course, you’re willing to have a very . . . slow . . . conversation. She’s dated vampires, werewolves, sorcerers, weapons smugglers and US Government assassins. Yes. She has stories. She’s also an investigator with a local paranormal investigation group, Colorado Paranormal Rescue! 
