athelind: lnicol1990:goldwerewolf:headspace-hotel:probablyfunrpgideas:neolithicsheep:senkk
athelind: lnicol1990: goldwerewolf: headspace-hotel: probablyfunrpgideas: neolithicsheep: senkkeidraws: the things i would imagine running alongside the car when i was a kid This is gorgeous and I need a pack of them so we could run through the woods together hunting. The Runalongs are rare in worlds without fast transportation. It seems they are brought into being when someone, bored by a journey, looks out to watch the countryside go by. They daydream of a creature that follows their path (guarding? Or hunting?) and suddenly, without fanfare, it appears. Runalongs have little in the way of ecology, but they are known to eat other dreams. Sometimes if the one who called them is particularly lonely or afraid they will get closer and even speak in humming voices without opening their mouths. But the second you stop moving, the creatures turn and vanish behind themselves, disappearing to wherever fantasies come from. A Runalong can also have other forms; a humanoid figure (without distinct features) is common, and these may also ride things that are supposed to be horses. If only we were better at imagining, then they might not look so terrifying. WAIT OTHER PEOPLE DID THIS ???????!!! Mine were large cat-like creatures I forget what mine were but I imagined this too! I like the name Runalongs. Please, I’m nearly 30 and I still have Runalongs join me on long, boring car journeys. They must be able to sense people who are in need of their presence, for company, for entertainment, or are just so used to them being there. It’s funny that the top one looks so much like the Greyhound Bus logo, because that’s when I’ve been most aware of them: travelling across the Southwest on buses. I did a LOT of cross-country road trips with my family when I was younger, and I’ve always been aware that different places have, for lack of a better term, a different ENERGY to them, but when I was in a car or in a motor home with family members, there was always a sense of the familiar, the comfortably ordinary. On Greyhound, or any of the other bus lines, though? Traveling by myself, in a coach full of strangers? That’s when I realized that the Southwest desert is a liminal space. Those great empty stretches aren’t merely between cities; they’re … between. They’re not just land-bound, either. If you find yourself on a flying bridge watch after midnight in the Bering, you’ll know that the sea has them, too – not the dolphins that ride the bow waves or the seabirds that soar in the wake, but between-things, swift, lean non-shapes that across the tops of the waves, just out of sight. They’re always just out of sight, for me. I never see my Runalongs, not full-on, not like some of you have. They live in the between, in the corner of my eye, in the blind spot. But I know they’re out there, loping along, pacing the bus, pacing the ship as it cuts through the waves. I haven’t been on a proper road trip in over a decade, and I haven’t been on a bus trip since the mid-’90s. It’s been even longer since my time at sea. I miss the between. I belong there. And I think the Runalongs miss me too. -- source link
#liminal spaces