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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1673297
Rated: E · Fiction · Fantasy · #1673297
The beginning of a story of another world.
              Horses fly through the sky.  Dancing trees litter orange grass.  A gleaming purple sun shines overhead.  Laughter blows through the valley like wind.  I open my arms and tilt my head up towards the sky.  The laughter moves through my hair, leaving a sparkling tint to its raven color. 

         My little house sits in the distance, looking so unusually normal in my crazy world.  I don’t want to embrace the normal.  I turn to run far away.  I chance a look back; my house is there behind me, closer.  The colors of my world all fade to black.  The horses become monsters.  I close my eyes and scream as my house descends upon me.



         My scream erupts in a pit of silence.  Thirty heads turn to stare in my direction.  I look up to see Mr. Reynolds, my science teacher, staring at me in alarm.  My face flushes three shades of red.  My eyes search for some sort of escape.  I hear choruses of giggles and whispers all around me.  Why did it have to happen now?  I look down at my paper and notice the world from my dreams, if they even are dreams.  I think they might be too real to be dreams.

         “Lily, are you alright?” Mr. Reynolds asks, bringing me away from my desire to hide. 

         “Yes, I apologize.” I murmur.  My face starts to feel as if it’s being roasted in an oven.

         “Perhaps you should go to the nurse?  Rest a bit?” I nod my head and grab my things.  I slide out of the room, feeling pairs of taunting eyes burning into my back. 

         I run to the nurse’s office, make a lame excuse for sickness, and head home.  As soon as I round the street corner I break into tears.  “Why is this happening to me?” I wonder aloud, burying my face in my hands.  To anyone else, it would have just seemed that I fell into a rough daydream, but I know that it was real.

         I begin to feel a rush of wind.  My eyes roll into the back of my head.  My chest begins to burn as if I swallowed fire and it is consuming my body.  “Please!” I beg.  “Please no!”  Suddenly, I’m back in the orange grass, an instant calm feeling envelopes me.  I forget everything that has happened before.  I know only what is occurring at the present.

         Butterflies walk upon the ground to greet me.  They whisper my name over and over.  “Lily…Lily…”   

         I let myself fall into the grass, smiling and experiencing complete ecstasy.  I see a dark shadow begin to encircle me.  I quickly look up to find a boy, rustic yet angelic looking.  If I could construct a dream guy, this would be him.  He motions for me to follow him, so I do, ignoring all instincts.  I run behind him, not wanting to lose him.  As I run, I pass through plains, woods, and rose bushes.  A thorn scratches my arm, causing a stream of warm blood to glide down it.

         I begin to lose sight of the boy.  The colors around me all fade to grey.  The butterflies grow fangs and crouch upon me.



         I’m back on the road by my school, only this time I’m laying instead of standing.  My face presses against the cool cement.  I feel something on my arm.  I pull myself to a sitting position and examine it.  A trickle of red blood is adorning my arm, a rose thorn’s pathway.  I stare in disbelief.  Could it be possible?

         “Excuse me young lady, are you alright?” I hear above me.  Startled, I look up and see a shabby looking old man.  He is wearing a faded multicolor, floor-length coat.  Must be a hobo.  His grey hair can hardly blow in the wind, there isn’t much of it.  I realize that he is still staring at me expectantly. 

         “Oh, sorry.  I’m fine.  I just fell.” I smile, hoping to get this man, however nice, as far away from me as possible.  I see him notice the cut on my arm. 

         “How did you get that cut?” he asks curiously.

         “A rosebush.” I blurt before thinking.  He looks around him, not seeing any rosebushes.

         “I think you might want to come with me.” He says calmly.  His request is ridiculous, but something about the old man makes me trust him.  Something tells me he knows what is going on, what’s happening to me.  He helps me up off the ground and I follow him.     

© Copyright 2010 Valerie Michaels (asmith393 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1673297