sakon76

Treasure
by K. Stonham
first released 17th August 2012

Flynn dreams of gold.

There's a whole river of it, glimmering in the sunlight, twisting and looping lazily across the land.

It's all his.

He hops down from the boulder he'd been perched on, and crosses the meadow, going toward his fortune. Insects spring into the air, glimmering wings catching the sun. Lizards dart away, green as the grass, avoiding his boots.

He reaches the stream and kneels down by it. He dips a hand into that liquid gold.

It's not hot. It's just warm to the touch. He lifts his hand up and the gold spills between his fingers, smooth and soft as silk.

It's so beautiful.

At first he thinks he's hearing birdsong, but then he realizes it's a woman's voice, high and clear. He can't make out the words, but as he listens, looking, he can figure out which direction her voice is coming from.

He stands, and follows the river upstream.

Rounding a bend a few minutes later, he finds another clearing, and in it, a tower.

The river comes from the tower. It falls down its side in a shimmering, splashing, silent golden waterfall. The only sound is the woman's singing.

He can see her now, leaning out the window that the river springs from. She has a hairbrush in hand and is brushing her hair into the river as she leans against the sill, looking up at the sky.

Mouth dry, he steps forward and his foot knocks against some loose stones, scattering them in a scree. He flails for a moment, then regains his balance.

The singing has stopped.

He looks up at the tower, and the girl is looking at him, her mouth an "o". Their eyes meet, and across the distance he can see hers are as green as the meadow grass.

Then she turns, whirls really, stepping back and away. The river snakes across the meadow, disappearing up the side of the tower, and, as she closes the curtains, vanishes.

* * *

Eugene wakes with a soft gasp.

The room is dark. Under him, the mattress is soft. The bed's curtains have been drawn closed for the night. In the distance he can hear the peals of a bell, marking the hour, and after that the indistinct voice of a watchman, calling the time. After the voice falls away, quiet returns to the night.

His wife is nestled against his side, half burrowed. Her pert nose digs a little into his bicep. He can feel the rise and fall of her breathing.

Only a dream, then, he thinks. No meadow, no tower, no river of gold.

But on his hand, and on hers, are golden rings. And as he closes his eyes again, relaxing, forcing his body back into sleep, Eugene's hand brushes through his wife's short brown hair, so much like her true mother's.

It still feels like silk.

*~*~*

A/N: The title comes from one of the assertations of Captain Jack Sparrow: "Not all treasure is silver and gold, mate."