When she can fly

December 24, 2011
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The heels of my shoes click onto the rough pavement, my hair falling into my eyes at the shock of the collision.

There's a little girl -- blonde -- sitting comfortably on the pavement, waiting for me. She's wearing a white sundress and her mermaid hair falls easily down to her waist. She looks like an angel.

Shyly, she stands at the door, holding onto the frame, her bare feet rubbing against her ankles, but she gather's the courage to call out, "Hi!"

I wave back even though I don't know her. "Hello!" my voice sounds happier than I've heard it in a while. She laughs, and suddenly i can totally understand that stupid cliche about someone's laugh sounding like bells.

I've been walking up the front walk and now, just a few steps away from the screen door that's flung opena nd propped that way with a brick. I can smell a spicy, bitter..chocolatey smell as I get closer.

When I peek in the door, hesitant at first, another little girl, this one with brown hair and a pale pink dress, grabs my hand and leads me into the house.

The first room in the house i only see briefly, as I'm flying past it, because the little girl in the pink dress is leading me so fast though it towards that chocolate smell.

Then I'm inside a kitchen. This is clearly where the chocolate smell is coming from. There are stacks and stacks of chocolate cookies. Dark chocolate. Milk chocolate. Sweet chocolate. Even bloody white chocolate. It's illogical, but I don't really care. There are cookies everywhere.

As I'm looking around, awed by the sheer amount of chocolate in this room, I see a woman, with copper colored hair in tight spiraling curls. She's wearing a dress like the two little girls, only hers is red.

"Hello!" he straightens up, pulling another pan of cookies out of the oven, placing it lightly on top of a stack of other pans. "I've een waiting for you!" she laughs, and it's like a child's laugh, that same cliche again.

At the sound, the two little girls appeared in the room, although I don't remember them leaving.



And for lack of a better word ; pow.

Then there's smoke.

And there's blood.

There's singed eyelashes and gasping for air and why am I the only one still standing? It doesn't make sense.

And then I'm lifting and flying and it's absolutely insane.


And then I can feel the ground shaking again.

It shook before, but I hadn't noticed.

But I knew it was about to happen again.

It couldn't happen again. It would take me with it.

Like the anticipation before throwing up -- except instead of a little bit of stomach acid, I knew I was gonna die.

And then my feet were freezing cold.

I blinked.

I couldn't see anything.

Where was I -- a coffin?

My bed.

It had been a dream.


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