You know that dream where someone’s chasing you? You don’t see them, you always round the corner before they do — keeping them just out of sight. But you know they’re gaining on you. There’s a fear that’s stronger than anything you’ve felt in real life, an urgency that steals your breath, and the endlessness of running.
From the time I turned eight, I’ve had that dream every night. It’s always the woods; I’m running between trees in the darkness, not even sure how I know the way since there’s never more than starlight to guide me.
When I was about thirteen, I learned a trick. One night I found myself in the dream, and knew it was a dream. I still couldn’t wake up, but I could manipulate my circumstances. I could speed up, leaving my pursuer far behind. I could leap up into the trees and hide myself where he would never find me.
My dad said it was a sign I was strong-willed. He thought it meant I would always control my destiny — like somehow manipulating my fantasies was a sign that reality would be putty in my hands. It was a nice thought.
Tonight something is wrong with the dream. There’s undergrowth tripping me up. A full moon lends the sky eerie brightness, but my vision is blurry, and I realize I’ve lost my glasses. Fog hangs in the cold air, leaving slippery dew on every surface. There’s a feeling in my lungs from crying and then running: it’s like a pair of scissors have been shoved through my chest. And no matter how much I will it, I can’t make my feet move faster.
Oh yes. And I’m awake.
My wrenching gasps can’t drown the sounds of my pursuer’s breath as he plunges relentlessly after me. In a moment I will fall, or an impassable obstacle will block my path, and there’s nothing I can do to change that. He is going to catch me tonight. Reality is as solid as the name running through my head.
Aaron Rhodes.
That’s his name. I know now. I endured years of miserable nights, never realizing that those dreams had nothing and everything to do with my future. Too late for your little girl, Dad.
I run face-first into a spider’s web, and I can’t help my reflexive jerk. It’s all the delay he needs. A corpse-cold hand grasps my shoulder, jerking me back and around, and Aaron's hoarse voice is in my ear.
“Ava! Go to sleep!”
3 comments:
Is this a story you wrote?
In a manner of speaking -- it's a little bit of clutter from the writing side of my brain. Sometimes I get really vivid ideas for a scene or a plot, and they bounce around in my head distracting me until I write them. Usually they just go into a folder on my computer, but on a whim I posted this one. If it keeps bouncing, maybe I'll write more. Most likely this is its one moment in the sun. Any thoughts on what it's about...? (I genuinely don't know, so I'm curious) *grins*
Er, no, I was hoping maybe you could tell me what it was about! lol :D
I like it though...and I'd like to read more if there ever is more.
I know what you mean though...I get ideas for just portions of stories sometimes, but unfortunately I can never come up with the rest of it to make it complete.
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