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Like A Dream: a short story

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Old October 22nd, 2011, 2:31 am
HurrahforHermy  Female.gif HurrahforHermy is offline
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Like A Dream: a short story

She walks down the woods, breathing in the scent of the fresh pine trees. She always likes walking down this path, although at the same time, she gets a sense of fright. She doesn’t know why; maybe it’s the way the trees grow so tall that they block out the light, or perhaps it’s the way it’s so, so silent, that no sound can be heard but the sound of her footsteps crunching through the fallen leaves. Either way, there’s something strange, mysterious, spooky even, about walking through the big, tall trees. The silence is peaceful, but at the same time it scares her, for it makes her remember things she does not want to remember, and forget things she does not want to forget. It makes her think, it makes her reflect, it makes her look inside her very soul. With every step she takes, she feels as though she’s getting closer to something, although she doesn’t know what.

Before she knows it, she reaches a black gate. She hesitates slightly before pushing it open, although again, she doesn’t know why. She feels as though she’s forgetting something, but doesn’t know what. She doesn’t dwell on it for long, for she’s in a hurry, although she doesn’t know why; she just knows she needs to get to where she’s going as quickly as possible. She doesn’t even know where she’s going, exactly; It’s rather like trying to recall a dream: you think you’re about to remember it and just at the moment you’re about to grasp it back it suddenly slips away.

She’s about to go through the gates when she hears a noise behind her; she turns around and comes face-to-face with a girl. A little girl; an angel child, dressed in white, with big blue eyes that express more than could be possibly said with words, although they are not clear in what exactly they are expressing. It’s like a warning. The angel child turns away, and without being exactly sure why, she follows her away from the gates, away from the place she is in such a hurry to get to. The angel child leads her to a house, or rather, the remains of a house. Those big blue eyes look at her with sadness, and she feels a pang of grief for the child. This had obviously been her home, and it had evidently been burnt down.

“I’m sorry” she says, not knowing what else to say. The child does not speak; merely looks at her pleadingly, as though begging her for help.

“I can’t do anything. I’m sorry.”
What does the child expect her to do? It isn’t as though it’s fixable; the only remains are pieces of wood. The angel child looks frustrated now, like a child does when it tries to explain something and nobody understands.

The angel child looks at her again, and for a split moment, she’s about to remember, about to understand, why she’s here, were she’s going, what the child wants her to do.
Then it slips away.
She opens her eyes.
She’s at the bus stop.
She sighs, almost disappointed. She had just been about to…
About to what? She’s forgotten.
She shakes her head. It was just a dream, she reminds herself.
But those blue eyes…
It had seemed so real.
The bus arrives. She hesitates. There is something she is forgetting, but she can’t remember what. It’s like a dream, she thinks; you think you’re about to remember, and just as you’re about to grasp it, it slips away.
She ignores the nagging feeling and hurriedly gets on the bus; she’s late enough as it is. As she sits down, she looks out of the window and thinks she sees a flash of blue eyes in the crowd, frustrated child’s eyes; on a second glance, however, they’re gone.
As she thinks of the day of work ahead of her, she sighs. She can’t wait for it to be over so she can go home.
Only the home won’t be there anymore, as she will find later on.
It will be burnt down.
The only remains will be pieces of wood.
And she will remember, just for a split second, why she was there, were she was going. What the angel child had wanted her to do.
She hadn’t understood.
She will understand, just for a split second, the look of frustration on the angel child’s face.
And then it will all slip away.
Just like a dream.

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