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I'd love to tell you that I'm normal. And I would cherish explaining to you that what you are about to read is just a dream. A simple,foolish, little teenage girl's,silly,little dream. Alas,That would be a lie. The things I will write,The things you shall read,The things...I have dreamt...seen...Are quite...disturbing. So be warned,and be prepared,If you're looking for a beautiful story that ends in that lie...Oh what is it..Ah,yes..."Happily Ever After" Then look elsewhere. For this,is a horror,my dear.
At first...I am just in a large, empty, wooden room. Sitting cross legged, in the center of the cold hard-wood floor.
I am in thin clothing; jeans, a white t-shirt, socks, and no shoes. It's freezing,I cannot determine if it is the room's temperature or
I'm just getting chills from the frightening feeling I get of someone watching me. No, not watching...Glaring.
They seem intent to know every move I make. How creepy.
A glance at the wood shows scratches and wear. In the corner, there is a stain on the floor, I can not identify
it as anything more than a darker spot in the wood. But it's large, and maybe it's my scared, Murder adrenaline genes
kicking in, but I'm guessing it's blood. Hey, who knows, could be coffee?
I'm not quite scared yet because I'm still very curious. As i glance around i notice the lack of doors or windows. The only
thing other than me, is a metal bed frame pushed against the far wall. Just a metal frame with no bed, railings, or anything.
The only reason I know it's a bed is because it has some wear of a human's form on the ground in the middle of it.
As if someone's slumber and weight had worn it down after many painful nights. It's as I'm wondering what the difference
in sleep would be when I realize the sharp pain in my palm.
I look down to my left hand to see the knuckles a far-too-pale
white. I notice I'm squeezing something incredibly tight. As if even a slight loosening will make it fly away on the wind.
Through my clenched hand I can feel the shape of the object as a square type thing. It's small and fits just right in my
worn-down hands. With a gulp, I attempt at opening my hand to view the strange thing. As I struggle to unfold my fingers,
I let out a small cry as the full extent of my grip hits me. I'd been holding so tight it was like my hand was stuck that way. With more effort, and much more pain, I finally
relax my hand open and stare at the item laying on my scarred palm. It is a square,clear box. It's more of a rectangle but
that doesn't really matter. The edges are defined and have no welding lines. The only flaw in it is a tiny hole in the bottom
right corner. It proves the box to be hollow and empty. I cannot place the material, it's most definitely not plastic or
there would be some lines from melting it shut. And it can't be glass, It would have broke from such pressure.
I'm still staring at the box with my head at a confused tilt when my eyes dart to the floor on my right. There
on the torn wood panel, is a small black wire. I don't think to look where it's connected, but i gingerly pluck it from the
floor and stare at it. Out of a strange twinge of curiosity, I stick the end I hold into the small hole.
The second the wire and the box connect, an image sputters to life in the no-longer empty box. It's a little fuzzy
like trying to get into focus. The shock of something being made of this random object strikes me and I drop the wire out
of possible fright. As the image's appearance clicked in my brain,I carefully pick the wire back up.
With a deep breath,I close my eyes and put it securely into the hole again.
The image comes into focus after the now-expected spark. But it seems unbelievable, even more far-fetched than the
predicament I myself am in. The scene I see seems so improbable. There is a mound of green. The green shifts and then
turns and the green falls slightly showing a gorgeous face. Snow-white hair. Chiseled cheeks as if the Gods themselves
had spent amazing amounts of time to get such an intricate face.His nose is at such an angle that it seemed perfection was
an understatement. He has such long black eyelashes that I imagine hid beautiful pools of color. His lips, oh gosh his lips,
they were so perfect like everything else about him. An absolute replica of Cupid's bow. Why,Eros himself would have begged
to pluck it off this boy's face to use as his own. Anyway, this boy was unimaginably,purely,impossibly,beautifully, perfect.
No, better than perfect.
This boy's flawless face and out-of-this-world features have me captured. I suddenly realize I'm not breathing.
I'd been holding my breath in fear of a single noise making him disappear. Apparently it was just the opposite. For
as I gulp in a huge breath to catch up with myself his eyelids burst open,revealing something even better than I'd
imagined. Striking blue eyes. So pale on the inside with a dark blue on the outter rim. They seem to dim as they went
inward toward his wide pupil. Searching for the cause of the sound,the blue darts around everywhere.It takes much effort
to keep my own pathetic-in-compare,green eyes locked on his fairytale-like pools's. I hold my breath for
the second time,praying he will not find me when-of course,wouldn't ya know it-his remarkable eyes catch me. As if
I was a target,his eyes lock on me with determination,confusion,curiosity and a slight trace of...fear?
A small gasp escapes his lovely mouth and he sits bolt up-right. When he does so,the green- which I now find is
a blanket- falls to display even more chiseled features. His skin is so much more than simple stomach and chest.
He has- wouldn't ya guess it- abs. Six of 'em,count 'em,SIX. But he isn't one of those over-achieved muscle men.
They are simple,like he was born with them-if that is possible. My eyes have been obviously drawn to them and I imagine
my mouth gaping open with drool or something because he looks down and lets out a small "oh". The boy reaches down and
plucks a tan t-shirt off the ground. He slips it over his head and without the distraction,my eyes slowly slide their
way back up to his.
He's staring at me with millions of questions on his pale lips. But all he can muster is a stuttering "Who are...What a...
Where...." There is a long pause before I even think about responding. He must know I can't think of words and lets out one
more ".....How...." I swallow my saliva to moisten my throat and blink my wide eyes once. He is so beautiful i couldn't even
place an explanation if I had one. I just slowly shake my head and hope he accepts that as an answer.
~Unfinished~
 emily1elf · Mon Nov 29, 2010 @ 11:15pm · 0 Comments |
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