Here’s the first story in my series based on The Mysteries of Harris Burdick. For an explanation of my rules for these stories and some background on who Harris Burdick was (is?), see my original post!
Archie had been asleep for almost five hours.
His stepmother Karen sent him to his room that evening without supper, citing his “outburst” before dinner when he categorically refused to even consider eating his brussel sprouts. When he was sent to his room for the rest of the night, and it happened not infrequently, his only method of passing the time was going to bed early.
On this particular Monday evening, he’d missed his TV program, Gunsmoke, (the only thing he looked forward to during the school week besides baseball practice) and he was cross about it because Karen knew that the show was his favorite. Archie was sure that she’d made it her goal in life to make his life a living hell.
Luckily, Archie was an excellent dreamweaver. He could dream about anything he wanted, controlling his dreams from within, and given that he’d been sent to bed early and forbidden from watching his show, he’d decided before falling asleep to make his own cowboy-western episode.
Dorinda and Davy hovered over Archie, the electricity generated by their beating wings causing them to glow, and combed through his past and future dreams, ignoring the cowboys and Indians for the moment; they were looking for something that would tell them their next step.
“Are you sure, Davy?”
“He’s the one. We’ll find it. We just have to keep looking.”
Hannah Ruth Wellons 
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