• This is the beggining of a book I am writing. read in the dark for more... thrills i really need to fix it up. i know. i know.

    ... no title yet...

    The midnight sky loomed above; watching, waiting. The silence slowly crept in- one by one, the dreary forest creatures grew still and quiet. But I did not see the sky, nor did I hear the silence. I did not smell the fresh pine scent, I did not feel the earth crumbling beneath my feet. Even the delightful bitter taste of the air did not reach me. I was alone, all alone!
    I sat up with a start. My cheeks were wet, my eyes moist. Slowly, I lay back down, realizing that it was just a dream. More like the dream. These nightmares were part of a cycle, I suppose. Sunday- the dreams were happy. Every single one was delightful. But it would change. During the happiest part, it would all... melt. The pictures faded to black and white, smiles turned to screams, and it would stretch and wobble until it was like this one. Not the same surroundings- just the aloneness.
    On Monday the dream would continue, but then I would find a stranger who shared this feeling, this dream. But we would not talk to each other. We would not communicate at all. There was nothing to communicate. We would just know that we were not alone, and that this will end. Creepy, huh?
    Tuesday was even worse. Every time, we would get separated, and every time it was sad. These usually ended up in some deserted meadow, sometimes with black or blood-stained grass, and I would be screaming, crying, sobbing. Trying to get everything right. But it would not work, never.
    The next day was the dream was most painful, literally speaking. One of my worst ones had my friend, at the end of a hall. By instinct, I ran towards them, ran towards my only hope. After a few minutes of endless running, my chest burning, I realized that it was hopeless. With every step, my friend would be farther and farther away. But I kept running. Suddenly, a head-bursting pain shot through my wrist. I looked at it, screaming, and saw it dripping with crimson blood. Again, I screamed, and I heard another scream. My friend! She was also hurt, but it was on her foot. She fell on the ground, flailing helplessly. I called to her, and I ran faster. Now I was hurting even worse. My lungs did not get enough air, my legs had not enough strength, my voice could not get enough energy to call out again. Then my leg suddenly shot with pain- so much pain that one would realize that it was too much pain for my leg to be broken off. It was much, much worse.
    Thursdays would be nothing. I would be in blackness, I would see nothing, feel nothing, smell nothing, hear nothing, see nothing, taste... that is an exception. I would taste something. I would taste blood. The bold, sweet, metallic taste was too much to bear. But how could I stop it? I had no control.
    Friday. There are not enough words to put into the Friday dreams. Sum it all up, suffering. Not from pain, from loss. From sadness. From worry.
    Saturdays were the best. I had no dream at the beginning, then it would turn into the happy dream. I would forget that the next day, It would change. It has always changed... for as long as I could remember.
    I went downstairs to the kitchen, so I would not fall asleep again.the raven-black sky seemed to shine out of the windows. Look over here, Chelsey. As I heard this, I whipped my head to both sides. Where hd the voice come from? Who said it? Why? I was getting scared. This had not happened before. You know you hear me, Chels. My old family nickname! Chelsy, you have made a mistake. I am here to correct you. What did I do? Fix it before you are punished like you should be, Chels. Now! Oh, so now I am hearing things that are telling me what to do? Great. Thats all I need! A violent, determined consionsness. Suddenly, a thrashing pain, like a whip, struck me left angle. I yelped, and ran down the hall to the right, away from the pain. As I passed the stairs, the whip struck from the front, both my ancles were hit, and my hip. Now I hissed in pain and frustration. I wobbled backwords a few staps. Again, as I passed the stairs, the whip came. I went to the staires and raced up them, understanding. I went to my bedroom. Phew, no whip. The voice came.
    Chelsey, my dear. These dreams are meant for you... you cannot escape them. We will talk tomorrow, OK? We will get everything right. Now sleep, sleep. You cannot escape.. sleep.relax. Sleep, drift...And I was instantly snapped into the world of dreams, angels, and screams. I realized what this meant. My friend was an angel, the one who shared my pain. She was not my “consionsness” no. But she was an angel. Somehow.

    I had to talk to her. I needed answers. Maybe tomorow my painful guardian will eplain everything.