Eternal on the Inside

Chapter one: The Nights

 They reached across her line of vision, tunneling in spirals and flicking across the now barren landscape. Colors engulfed the scene in front of her, curling around every branch, log, and leaf that happened to be in its path. The heat was excruciating, yet she stayed. Trapped between a flaming battle, the senses were overwhelming. Every strand of thin grass caked with drying mud sludged between her toes, every prickle running up her legs from the twist in temperature swarming around her, every streak of cold wind trickling past the burning flames coming so close to her touch, every pull in which those flames inflict, creating their own gravity. These feelings echoed in her mind, soaking through her every pore but never impeding her thoughts like the sight of the flames could. Her head was swallowed by the scene in front of her; jets of green stretching out of red and orange puddles spilling from the creatures. On the left, there were swirls of blue hidden within the blanket of heat, and the right had white spikes, protruding from the roaring source of this frenzy. However, her focus was on the center. There clashed a monsoon of purple, exchanging slashes and flashing with new refractions of light you would only imagine would belong to swirling planets not yet explored, and she was enchanted. But this was wrong, as there was no sound to the madness. Power boomed through the air, yet she could not hear more than a prolonged shush from the fire, and a whisper from the wind. Each time the fires grasped for the other, an expected roar never came, and this pounded in her head. The sight put her in a trance, because it did not match the sound. It ached, and there was no way out. She wanted to melt into the beauty of what was happening before her. The pain wouldn't let her. Throbbing soon joined her overheated brain, she was so happy, but in so much distress. She needed out. Every sensation that pleased her was now her pain. It was so wrong. It didn't belong.

Swallowed in a mess of blankets and plushies, Nova awoke in a cold sweat. Still slightly trembling, she sat up in the darkness, gaining a sense of reality again. A glance around told her she was in her bedroom, to her right sat her dresser clustered with pictures and stacked miscellaneous papers. Looking to her left, she recognizes leaning on the wall the blow up tiger won at the soccer game the day before. Her eyes follow the length of the wall to her clock hanging near the ceiling, it's ticking distracting her from her heavy breaths. At the same time, the movement of turning her head fills her skull with excruciating pressure, and with clinched eyes Nova throws her bedding off and jumps out of bed. A bit dizzy, she stumbles forward, hands grasping through the air for the hallway light just outside her bedroom door. After flicking it on and a moment's hesitation, holding the front of her forehead, she makes her way to the bathroom, the headache relieving itself with time.

Gazing into the reflection in front of her, Nova skims her features. No signs of physical burns are anywhere, but the glistening sweat and visible reddened circles under her eyes showed her that while her dream was not real, the stress of having it was taking a toll. She sighs and leans forward to turn on the faucet, splashing cold water into her face. By the second face full of water, the temperature had risen slightly, and the now lukewarm water gave her a wave of reassurance. Nova leans on the counter reaching for the hand rag beside the sink and steals a glance of her dripping reflection. Blotting her face dry, she feels the tiring ache that silent 2:30 brings to those remaining awake. Shifting her weight to the palms of her hands, the counter surface cool to her touch, her breathing finally steadies and her thoughts clear up. "Damn I need to get more sleep", she mutters while staring down at the sight in front of her. Fixing dark wavy hair and giving up when the loose curls swing back to her face, she pulls away from the counter and saunters back to her room. "This one better be good" she mentions to no one in particular, as the click of the door says goodnight.

Sunlight poured into the bedroom as Nova swapped an old oversized tee and pajama pants for skinny jeans and a navy crewneck. The smell of bacon drifted into her bedroom, and she turned from the mirror over the dresser, grabbing the yellow Walkman from the stand by the door before walking through the hall and down the stairs.