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Damon

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Damon lifted me off the soft, frost-covered grass. Shivers coursed through my body. My eyes shut tight, only to flutter open again. The moon floated as a glowing orb which appeared to be just a touch away from my reach, only it was no larger than usual. As Damon carried me away from the pale but shining oak tree, the moon seemed to be getting bigger and bigger. Soon it was taking up almost all of the starry, black sky. What was happening? What was the world about to turn into? But Damon silently shushed me, calming my anxiety.

As he carried me away in his arms, I took in his appearance. His hair was short and black, his eyes blue as the ocean, and I could smell a trace of the expensive cologne his father had given him. Damon. He was one of the few people in the world for whom I would take a bullet.


My body jerked awake, moonlight streaming directly in my face. I silently made my way towards it, looking up to find the moon the size it should be. In my dream it had looked ethereal, but in reality the moon hung against the sky like a cheap prop. The stars were dull, the air chilly instead of perfect. Perfect. A word I had not thought of since he had breathed his last breath.

A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. Pitchy, creaking noises hurt my ears, diverting my attention towards the silhouette in the doorway.

“Are you alright?” whispered my mother, her voice barely audible.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I answered. “Go back to bed, Mom. I really am okay.”

My mother weakly grinned as she shut the door behind her, leaving me in the black and silver room. Scattered around the floor were drawings I had sketched from my barely-beating heart. Many of them were of different subjects; a girl screaming, someone walking towards the sun, a fire on the moon, and on and on it went. My very first drawing had been of a girl looking up at the moon, with only a row of oak trees in the background, and a lost look on her face. With wavy, brown hair, dull green eyes, and skin so pale she could blend in snow, it was a representation of me.
The only way for me to deal with the sorrow was by expressing myself in art, but it occurred more than ever with Damon’s death. However, I could still hear in the back of my head my analytical father telling me time and time again, “Oh, this is…good, thought a little confusing.” What did he know? He who only understood what was black-and-white in front of him? Damon had understood my drawings fine. Oh, Damon, how I missed him. His death had shaken my life in a way that made my head spin. We had fit perfectly together, completed each other as soulmates, but now he had left me to face the hardships without him.

Robotically, I made my way back to my bed. Cuddled up under the sheets, I allowed my dream to continue:



The world around me was glowing silver. The soothing wind chilled my bones. Moon had set, and Sun had risen. Sun…it had decided to turn white. Where were the warm yellow rays I was so used to? They seemed to have left with the moon. The shining oak tree shriveled up before disappearing into the swaying grass. The colorless sunlight flooded down to earth from the sky, casting shadows of invisible things. One shadow was of a human figure, and suddenly it began to walk towards me. Out of it came Damon, beautiful as ever and wearing his old gray jeans with his rugged black t-shirt. He held out his hand and his voice echoed all around me.

“You’re crazy, but I still love you. Well, come on now!”

I stared for several seconds before grasping his wrist. We floated up, up, up and into a perfect world where we could be young and in love together.



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