Fanfic: Prisca's Dream

ZOMBIE USER 700 · Post by **ZOMBIE USER 700** » Wed Feb 21, 2001 6:24 am

Prisca's Dream.
By Simon Fowler.--------------------Sam sat down at his table and pulled out his pad. He pondered the blank lines on it for a moment, then looked out the window at the street outside the cafe. He stared into space for a few minutes, then sighed and began writing . . . . Sam paused when his coffee arived, and pondered the street outside again, watching the people walking by and idly dreaming up little stories for them. Here an elderly judge, walking with stately step, leaning only slightly on his cane. There a newly affianced couple, revelling in the joy of their closeness. A pair of middle aged housewives, on their way to do charitable works . . . His eye was caught suddenly by a girl, simple and unpreposessing, yet with an air, and as he expanded his attention to the group she was with, he saw yet another story - a pair of lovers, and a third, all friends yet not alike . . . A determined figure moving between the window and his vision disturbed the dream. He blinked slightly as the blonde head strode into the cafe and demanded strong coffee . . . A hint of thought rose from the murk at the bottom of his mind, and he tried to reach for it, but lost it . . . Shaking his head, he returned to his libretto, sipping his own coffee slowly.He was broken from his absorption by the voice of one of the waitresses, laughingly saying "Four cups not enough for you?" He glanced up, to see the waitress delivering a double espresso to the blonde girl that had broken his train of thought earlier. "Not today. I feel like I can't get enough caffeine into me at the moment . . . You'd think I'd been going cold turkey." the girl replied, giving her coffee a stir before relishing a sip. "Keep 'em coming, please." She smiled up at the waitress and took another sip . . . The smile once again jolted Sam's subconscious, and he tilted his head to one side, staring intently at her shock of hair. Suddenly she turned, presenting her profile to Sam's gaze, and as a single unruly lock fell from her brow, the final piece of the puzzle clicked. Sam smiled, and pondered the wisdom of approaching her . . . Who knows, he thought to himself, she /may/ be the model for Prisca - after all, stranger things have happened . . . A small voice at the back of his mind suggested that this amusing coincidence would be a good conversation starter . . .Looking down at his pages of writing, Sam pondered whether to act now or leave it a little longer . . . Reaching a decision, he packed his papers into his backpack, and stood. Restraining his nerves, he strolled over to the girl's table, and stopped."Umm . . . Excuse me, but do you know someone by the name of Kimberly Scott?" The girl looked up at Sam impatiently. "And what is it to /you/?" Sam blinked, then laughed, thinking "/Very/ like Prisca indeed!""I realise this probably sounds slightly crazy, but Ms. Scott draws a webcomic, and you look very similar to one of the characters in it - a rabid caffeine addict by the name of Prisca. I was just wondering if perhaps you were a model for that character." The girl was staring at Sam strangely. "My name is Prisca . . ." She looked down at her coffee, blinking. Then she looked back at Sam, eyes narrowed in anger. "Rabid caffeine addict?"Sam blinked as well, then reached down quickly and wiped a smudge of foam from one side of Prisca's mouth. "No, I think it was a false alarm - it was just foam from your coffee" He smiled engagingly, then was startled by a giggle from the waitress, and grinned a little embarrasedly, looking around. The cafe was mostly empty, but the people who were there were, without exception, watching his antics.When he looked back to Prisca, he found himself the focus of an enraged glare. "Just who the hell /are/ you? And how come you know me? And who is this Kimberly Scott person?" Sam closed his eyes and rubbed them with the fingers of one hand. Then he looked back down at Prisca, and sighed. "This is really quite wierd, you know." He pulled out the chair opposite Prisca, and sat down in it, waving the waitress over. "Who gave you permission to sit down there, mister?" Prisca was going red with anger now, and Sam sighed again."I thought you might want to sort out this particular strange coincidence. I know /I/ do." He ordered a latte from the waitress, and looked at Prisca. "Can I buy you a coffee?"Prisca glared at Sam. "I can buy my own, thank you very much." She looked daggers at the waitress, who almost backed away. "I'll have a double long black of Java, thank you." The daggers were redirected at Sam. "Now explain yourself, and this had better be good or you're going to /hurt/."Sam waited until the two coffees were brought out before speaking, seemingly absorbed in the task of watching the waitress making the drinks . . . Prisca merely glared at him, finishing off her current coffee and waiting impatiently for the next to arrive. When the two most anticipated caffeine hits of the new millenium finally came through, Sam delayed things even more by adding two sugars to his latte, under the contemptuous gaze of his companion. Finally, he spooned up the layer of froth, and consumed it with apparent relish, smiling with his eyes at Prisca's glare. "Well?" she said, loathing dripping out of her voice.Sam smiled. "They do good coffee here, don't they?" His companion snorted, and took a sip of her own cup. "You know, there's more to good coffee than the caffeine content. You should be able to appreciate the flavour, too. And this is /very/ flavoursome coffee." Another disgusted snort from Prisca, and Sam sighed. "Are you going to explain yourself, or am I going to have to start hurting you?" Prisca sat back and crossed her arms. Then a new thought occurred to her, and she blinked. "Are you trying to chat me up?" She leaned forward, enraged by the idea. Sam leaned back, suddenly feeling rather threatened by the young woman across the table. Attempting to retain his panache in the face of this renewed attack, he almost squeaked out a reply. "No! No . . . the thought handn't even occurred to me . . . Which isn't to say that I wouldn't like to get to know you, but it was just that you reminded me of this cartoon character, and I was curious, and I didn't mean anything by it, and . . . " Sam stopped, realising he was babbling. He heard a snicker disguised as a cough from behind him, and just managed to refrain from turning to glare at the waitress. He almost wished he wasn't a regular in this cafe - he felt sure such liberties wouldn't be taken with his dignity if the staff weren't confident that he'd return. He suddenly became aware that Prisca was tapping her foot. "Umm . . ." He took a deep breath, and released it slowly before going on. "I read a webcomic, drawn by a girl called Kimberly Scott. It's sort of a science fiction fantasy thing, about these two girls, one a temporal physicist, the other a . . . an overachiever with a caffeine addiction and a temper." Sam was looking down at his coffee while saying this, but now he looked up to see Prisca staring at him in shock. He went on. "The temporal physicist calls herself Calliope, and the overachiever is called Prisca. The character Prisca looks very much like you, though - the hair, the build, the face, and the mannerisms and so forth . . . So I was wondering if perhaps you were the model for the character . . ." He trailed off as the look of shock deepened. "Ummm . . . Are you alright? You don't look at all well . . ." Prisca was looking around at the cafe, and at the street outside. Slowly a broad smile grew on her face . . ."Yes! I'm out of that damned POCKET thing! At /last/! Yes!" She looked down at her coffee, and took another gulp from it. "Real coffee! And none of these crazy wierd places like that Toilet thing, or any of that mediaeval stuff! Yes! I'm /BACK/!" This last part was almost shouted, bringing odd looks from the cafe's patrons. Sam was just sitting there watching Prisca, wondering which of them was the more insane . . . "Ummm . . . . ." He looked down at his own coffee, wondering if there were perhaps some blue mushrooms added to it. "Are you trying to say you /are/ the same Prisca as the one in POCKET?" He swallowed another mouthful of coffee. "Ummm . . . One or both of us is obviously hallucinating, you know . . . Because from here it sounds like you're saying you're a character out of a cartoon."Prisca's grin faded back to a glare. "I am /not/ a cartoon character! And how come you know all this stuff about me? Who /are/ you?"Sam took a quick hit of his latte and sat back, folding his arms across his chest. "My name is Sam Cameron. I'm a writer. I'm also a webcomic addict, which is where I got all this from. One of my favourite webcomics is called POCKET, as I said. I'd show it to you, only I don't really want you to know where I live, in case you turn out to be . . . dangerous." The woman across from him glared even more angrily at him for that. "And given that you're sitting across the table from me, I'm fairly confident you're /not/ a cartoon character. But the coincidence is rather . . . interesting."Prisca kept on glaring at Sam for a good minute, sipping her coffee all the while. Then she spoke. "I'm Prisca Neumann. I'm a piano student at the University, only I've spent the last few weeks in some wierd alternate dimension with a bunch of freaky mediaeval people and flying seals and things like that. And this is the first real coffee I've had since then." She glared some more at Sam. "I am /not/ a cartoon character, no matter what you seem to think. And I don't know anything at all about this Kimberly Scott person."Sam blinked. "Ummm . . . . Oh . . . . " He couldn't think of anything to say, then pulled himself together. "So why are you /here/, rather than in that POCKET?"Prisca frowned. "I don't know. I woke up this morning in my bed at home, like I normally do. I only remembered all of this just then, when you started talking to me. I don't know why I forgot it, though." She frowned again. "What is this comic thing you're talking about? I've never heard of it.""It's just an online comic . . . I have no idea how it relates to you, though . . . It's only been going for a few months . . . It's very good, though . . ." Sam was becoming extremely confused by this, and actually beginning to doubt his sanity somewhat. "Ummm . . . You're not playing some kind of joke on me, are you? I mean . . . I've never met you before, and you /do/ look exactly like Prisca, and . . ." He backed away a little from Prisca's furious glare. "I'm sorry! This is just realy /really/ wierd . . ."Prisca glared some more. "It /is/ wierd. No more so for you than for me." She looked around her, seeming almost spooked by the whole thing. "Please God, don't let this be a dream . . ."Sam felt a wave of pity for Prisca . . . Hallucinating or not, she was obviously deeply worried about the idea of returning to her imaginary dimension . . . He reached across the table and took her hand, squeezing it gently. "It's alright, Prisca. Whatever it was, you're here now, and you won't go back . . ."Prisca blinked, looked down at Sam's hand on hers for a moment, and then pulled hers away suddenly, nearly spilling some of her coffee. She glared across the table at Sam. "Get your hands off me! How /dare/ you! What kind of girl do you think I am?" Sam jumped back, spilling some of his coffee on his jeans and spluttering a confused apology and even more confused explanation. Prisca looked daggers at Sam until he spluttered to a halt, and then continued ripping strips out of him. "I am /not/ insane, even though you seem to think I am. And how do I know you're not just making all of this up as some kind of wierd pick up line? Or maybe /you're/ hallucinating!"Sam wiped his jeans with a serviette, and frowned back at Prisca. "I don't know! I'm /not/ trying to pick you up or anything like that! I'm just as confused as you are." Again Sam heard a snicker behind him, and this time he turned around and glared at the waitress before returning to Prisca. "I'd like to /help/ you. And I'd like to understand what's going on." He sighed. "And I somehow doubt that I will . . ."Prisca's gaze softened slightly. Only slightly. "I don't know what's happening either. And I'm not sure I want /you/ to have anything to do with finding out, either." She swallowed another mouthful of coffee. "But I'd like to know what's going on, too. And since you know so much, you seem to be the best bet for finding out. So, what do you know?"Sam blinked. "Ummm . . . I don't know anything other than what I've read in POCKET . . . I suppose I could show you the archives, and see if it really is as similar to what you've gone through . . ." Again, the waitress sniggered a little - it really did not seem to be Sam's day. "Ummm . . . My apartment is just down the street - I could show you there . . ." Prisca glared some more at Sam, then slowly nodded. Sam breathed a quick sigh of relief - surely this would mean a truce of sorts. He quickly finished his coffee, and indicated to Prisca that she do the same, then went to the grinning waitress and payed his bill. Prisca did likewise, and then strode out the door looking like a small thundercloud. Sam followed hurriedly, then pointed her in the right direction and raced to keep up with her . . .--------------------Five minutes later Sam unlocked the door to his aparment, and led Prisca in. He dropped his backpack on the table and went over to his computer, bringing up a browser and hunting through his bookmarks . . ."This is strange . . ." he said, as Prisca watched him, tapping her foot. "I can't find my POCKET bookmark . . ." He typed in the URL by hand, and waited . . . until finally he got a DNS error. After looking at the error for a few moments, he did an nslookup by hand, with the same results . . . Finally, he buried his head in his hands and groaned . . . "Nooo . . . Please, don't tell me I'm going insane . . ." He felt a sudden urge to weep, but held the tears back, fearing that his guest would lose what little respect she had for him."What's happened? Can't you find this webcomic of yours?" Sam shook his head, then looked up at Prisca."I need some more coffee to deal with this. Do you want some?" Prisca blinked, then nodded, and looked at the computer for a while before sitting down to wait for Sam's return with coffee. As he waited for the kettle to boil Sam considered what had happened. Looking at it objectively, it seemed like he was indeed hallucinating, or at least /very/ confused - after all, he must have dreamed up this webcomic that didn't seem to exist. But the rest of Sam's mind rebelled - he /couldn't/ be hallucinating, simply because this was all /real/ . . . He looked over at his mysterious guest . . . She was resting her elbow on the computer table, her head in her hands, idly flicking through his CD collection. In this moment of repose she had lost her threatening demeanour, and looked peaceful . . . She smiled suddenly, at one of the CDs, and Sam's heart skipped a beat. She was beautiful . . . . At that moment Prisca looked back at Sam, still smiling, and saw his eyes on her. Immediately her scowl returned, and she spoke harshly. "What are you looking at? And when is that coffee going to be done?"Sam flushed, and looked down at the mugs he had ready. "Nothing . . . Ummm . . . just a few minutes once the kettle boils . . ." The kettle clicked off and he poured the water into the plunger, carefully avoiding Prisca's eye. He carried the plunger and the mugs out to the table, and plonked them down. "I suppose you don't want milk or sugar, do you?" He didn't wait for an answer, heading back to the kitchen to bring them out for himself. When he came back Prisca was looking at the plunger with a hungry expression, scarcely noticing his arrival. He sighed, and watched the plunger himself, with a slightly dreamy expression on his face. Eventually he reached out and pressed the plunger down slowly, listening morosely to the rasp of the filter on the stainless steel sides . . . He poured a full mug for Prisca, then went through his own coffee making routine - sugar and milk first, then the coffee on top. Then he sat watching the whirlpools from his stirring, pondering the events of the day."I don't suppose you're actually doing this as some kind of joke on me or something?" Sam looked across the table at Prisca, who glared back at him over her mug. "No, I didn't think so . . . and anyway, it wouldn't fit." He sighed. "Maybe I /am/ going insane, then . . ."Prisca scowled at Sam with a distinct lack of sympathy. "Do I look like I care?" She refilled her mug, emptying the plunger in the process. "So you have no idea what's going on?" Sam shook his head. "Which leaves me . . . where?" She looked across the table at Sam, who sighed."One or other of us is hallucinating, I think. Though I have no idea which, or of any way to decide." Prisca raised an eyebrow at that."You can't find that comic of yours, can you? So it's obviously /you/ that's hallucinating." Sam sighed again. "If it comes to that, why am I in here with a lunatic like you?" She drained her second mug, then stood up. "I'm out of here, unless you can come up with a good explanation." Sam looked up at Prisca, blinking rather dazedly. "Ummm . . . Explanation? I haven't got the faintest clue what's going on. So you might as well go off and find another temporal physicist and see if /she/ can help you." Prisca snorted derisively. "No chance of /that/. I'm going home." She headed toward the door, and tried to open it. "Hey! Why doesn't the door open? Come and unlock it!" She glared at Sam yet again, crossing her arms across her chest and tapping her foot. "And if you try anything at all, I'm going to hurt you so badly you'll wish you hadn't been born!"Sam sighed. "The lock plays up every so often - it needs replacing. It's not locked, but there's a knack to getting it to open." He stood up and walked over to the door. Just before reaching it, he tripped up on the phone cord, and fell forward . . . right into Prisca's arms . . ."Why you . . ." Eye's opened wide in shock and anger, Prisca first pushed Sam away from her, and then punched him in the stomach as hard as she could. Sam reeled back, once again tripping on the phone cord, this time falling back and banging his head on the table top . . . Prisca watched him falling with a hint of satisfaction, then turned back to the door and practically wrenched it open. "Hah. You deserved it, too, you sleaze." she said as she headed out, pulling the door shut after her with a slam.--------------------Sam lay on his floor for a few minutes, a trickle of blood running from the side of his mouth where he'd bitten his lip on hitting the table. After a while his eyes opened, and he groaned. After rolling onto his side and sitting up he groaned more and held his head in his hands."Oohh . . . urgh . . ." He stopped groaning for a moment and looked up, far too quickly for his present state. "Oooohhh . . . . Prisca?" He looked at the shut door, and pondered his situation. Then he slowly pulled himself upright, and wandered into the kitchen to take some painkillers. He looked at his computer and considered having another look for the POCKET site, but then a wave of dizziness struck him, and he groaned again, thinking he'd go lie down for a few hours instead . . .--------------------Prisca woke up suddenly with a terrible craving for coffee . . . She opened her eyes and sat up in bed, groaning quietly, and looked around her room . . ."Nooooo . . . It /was/ a dream . . . ."--------------------Sam dragged himself out of his dreams slowly, looking across at his alarm clock. Midday was /such/ a good time to wake up . . .As he rolled out of bed, he vaguely recalled the dream of the night before . . . Something coffee related . . . He looked at his workbook, and tried to see if he could recall what he'd written on that libretto during the dream . . . Nothing came to him.--------------------himi
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teehee! My first fanfic . . .

Towr · Post by **Towr** » Fri Feb 23, 2001 1:07 am

pretty good =)

Averageman · Post by **Averageman** » Thu Apr 05, 2001 7:03 am

Cool.Your twitching friend,
Averageman