by Lanie Dubois
A dream that I once had and changed into a story.
|A woman is standing in the middle of the street. She twirls her hair unconsciously while looking into the sky. Her violet eyes glance with naive curiosity on the world that is opening up to her. She looks as if she lost her identity a few days ago or perhaps even a few years ago. Her loveliness is old-fashioned. She almost looks as if she stepped out of an old movie and into our lives. Follow her path into her future; follow her destiny. She looks in all directions before she decides to walk straight. Her footsteps create the sound of ringing bells on the sidewalks as she sings, “A pocket full of roses…” She increases her speed and the sharp intake of her breath overcomes her singing. She stops. A yellow building is on the left side of her and she follows the green path inside of it. An omelet is being fried inside the house. A woman dressed in an apron and a ripped dress is putting mushrooms on top of the eggs while the swishing sound of the butter fills the room. “You have done well, my dear.” The woman turns thus causing the frying pan to fall and the sweet smelling omelet to drop. “One mistake can change a lifetime.” She cries out. “One mistake can make you fall.” The illusion vanishes into the thin air and the woman remains standing outside the house. On the opposite side of where the yellow house once stood, there’s a black house and a pink path inside of it. She considers her options and decides to enter the chambers of that mysterious house. She follows the pink path which turns darker and darker with each step the woman takes. Finally, she reaches the entrance and opens the door. A small snake jumps on her from inside of the house and circles itself around her neck. It slowly begins to choke her; draining her life out of her. “You are my only rosssssie,” he whispers in her ear as she falls to the floor. Her once violet eyes turn black as blood begins to come out of her ears. Her mouth continues moving, “A pocket full of roses…” Her hair turns white and falls flatly on her lovely face. “I’m dead,” she screams and lifts her hand. Blood begins to trickle from her fingers, forming the word “identity”. The snake slowly unwraps himself from around her neck and crawls away from the rotting corpse. The stench is unbearable at the moment and the snake hisses at someone as it crawls into one of the deepest corners of the house. That someone grins and comes out of his hiding place to look at the woman. He bends down and touches her face with one ivory finger and then licks her blood. “It’s over, you don’t have to choose to become anymore.” He smiles and closes the black screen on her life.