This is the start of something that I'm still hammering away at. I know, I'm always stopping and starting different things. But this story. Its got something I might feel like going deeper into. or, it could just be indigestion from tonight's dinner.

I wouldn't say I'm a good writer at all. I'm always learning. Never stop, I do.

Please comment, or leave some advice. Thanks. Even though, this whole thing was made impromptu.

:Smithy of Dreams:

I clawed the sleep from my eyes. My eyes adjusted through the fog of the dreary nightmare that I was entrapped in.

A spinning purple disk hovered near the ceiling, giving off an awfully annoying grinding noise. It glowed and snowed shining flakes from its edges. The snow, or whatever it could have been, had covered a good deal of the floor. Caking it in a purple blanket.

A small, bony man hung his head in a wooden chair. Drawing breathes slowly, mumbling to himself. He had hardly any clothes on, except for a pair of tattered jeans that hung loosely around his frail hips.

I picked myself up and brushed off a thick coating of purple debris from my person. I softly stepped closer to the old man, who hadn't seemed to of noticed me. I gently lent out a kind hearted gesture with my hand to the, old codger.

"Are you all right, sir?" I questioned softly. He lifted his head and faced me blankly. Sagging lines and wrinkles lain his face, deep grey rings of colour bleached the skin under his eyes.
He licked his lips and coughed quietly, trying to fix upon my figure with his drooping eyes.
"Death is an illusion." The old man said. The words had slithered out of his mouth with struggle.

I dropped one eyebrow and sat up, thinking curiously. I craned over the old man' shoulders. Spools of hair covered in purple were coiled up in mountains behind his old chair, growing out of the sides of his polished dome.
"How can it be an illusion?" I began. "It's quite simple, really. We are born; we grow old, and then die. The ends of our existence." But this guy... He'd been like an old stain. Too bloody stubborn to live or die, no matter how hard you scrubbed.

He bent back in his chair and sat a little straighter, causing an avalanche of purple snow to roll down the slopes of his thin shoulders.
"Is that what you think?" He said, pouting his lips at me. "You think it just stops existing then and there. We go poof, then everything is nevermore?" he crumpled his eyebrows and stared at me with hints of anger.

I took a step back and showed a glimpse of worry in my eyes. I tried to think up on a way to defuse the situation. You know how old folk are in their ways. If you say something that wasn't around in their days, they'd complain about how terrible it is and how their methods were crudely more accurate and better in their generation. Nothing came to mind, sadly.

"I'll show you. Oh yes, I'll show you real good." The old spindly little man said, frowning angrily. He struggled to his feet, bracing his hands against the sides of his chair, hoisting himself up in tremors that shook his skinny body. He stood shaking. Sweat beaded down his brow as he concentrated on his balance.
"You wouldn't like to hurt yourself old man. You'd better just si- "Shut up!" The old man quacked, dribbling slightly.

He struggled a fleshy arm up into the air. He pointed shakily to the purple disk, grinding away merrily, spitting chunks of glowing, purple snow.
"Do you know what that is?" He said quickly, glaring at me.
"No. But, it's bloody annoying." I said looking in a puzzled stupor. The old man puffed his cheeks and clenched his fist against his side. He breathed heavily out his hairy nostrils.

"That is Soul Disk." The man said. "Every living thing converges upon this very point. A point where reality is skewed, memories forgotten, and lives begins anew."

My mind was blanked. Even more so than it ever was, which was quite often. My mouth opened slightly and I lifted my eyebrows full stretch.
"So, you're telling me. People don't really die? They just end up being on a, big purple disk, grinding away, like teeth on glass? If you'd ask me, I hope I never die."
"Yes." The old man huffed. He pointed over and swayed a little, setting his sight on the floor. "See this? All of this snow, is nothing but a by-product of the physical mind of the Outer dimension." He said, swallowing hard. Making his eyes water slightly.

I stood firmer, lowering my brows and twisting my lips. Gaining further ground in this new mind blowing situation. It was like smashing two metal hammers together of the same density. Seeing if they would truly shatter in your face.

I looked at him in bewilderment in a moment. Suddenly, my brain sparked into life.
"If this is where the souls of the deceased go. Then why. Why am I here?" I said questioning. The man shrugged uncertainly with a blank look.
"I don't know." He said.
"Ok then..." I said slightly bemused. "Then why are you here then?"
The old coot jerked slightly and smirked. It was either a slight heart attack, or he was chuckling.
"I'm the Smith of Dreams." He grinned with a set of rotten teeth. Or ten, or thirte- Forget it, he had at least three.

End of thy chapter... 1