Lizzie slowly sat up and rubbed her head. She felt dizzy, almost as if she had been on a rollercoaster for over an hour straight. She hobbled over to some weird stump-like-thing, finding it difficult with each step. She sat down, and after taking a minute to fully wake up, she looked at her surroundings in the moonlight. There was trees that lined the little grove, each one waving at her in the wind. But to her surprise, they were made of metal. Curious she muttered, and felt the grass under her bare feet. It had the texture of grass, but somehow felt fake, almost plastic-like. The moon eerily lit the dark voliet sky. Where am I? All she could remember was being at home, sitting in her bed, reading a novel, when the lights turned out. Maybe I fell asleep…she pondered.

She laid down on the stump-thing, it was astonishingly cold, and she tried to relax. However, the forest wouldn’t let her. It was cold and harsh, it had none of the feelings of home, of safety, love, warmth. Maybe this IS a dream…yes, that’s it. She slowly fell back asleep, but she didn’t sleep peacefully. Lizzie had bizarre dreams. She tossed and turned.

Suddenly, she awoke with a start, like from a nightmare. Thank goodness, it was a dream. The thick blue curtains hung limply in the window, no light shown through the panes. The room, painted blue, was dark. Her desk that was barley seen, stood near her bed. She reached her hand over to the little side table, grabbed the glass of water and took a sip. Everything was were it belonged. Lizzie curled back into the soft down covers, and fell back asleep. This time, she rested more soundly.

Beep. Beep. Beep. The alarm on the radio/clock went off. Lizzie lazily lifted her hand and pushed the off button, she then proceeded to get out of bed. She stumbled to the door, grabbed the cold brass knob and turned. Thump. The door did not budge. She tried again. Thump. No luck this time either. Panic began to rise inside her. Okay, my door doesn’t have a lock…she thought. She nervously paced back to her bed. It was still dark outside, she ripped the curtains open, only to find, to her surprise, Iron Bars.

The dim early morning light scarcely illuminated her panicked expression. She peered outside, the same metal hands of the trees, intertwining, rustling in the wind. The light of two moons casts long, malicious shadows.

She was in a cage. And even though it looked like it, it was not home. And this was not a dream.