2634: Dalmore

Chapter 3

I must have been two or three when the woman said, "Adria! You clever girl!" She is in her thirties and points down. She has flowing dark hair that cascades to her shoulders. There are small dark circles around her eyes and she wears bright red lipstick. I look down at what she points at, it is a small puzzle of Ixora flowers connected by racemes that I have assembled sits at my feet. The beige carpet appears to be newly cleaned and emits the aroma of candle. To match the scent of candles, the log wood walls give off a warm ambience and a sense of security. I look back at the woman who picks me up, and hands me to a man who too, is in his thirties. Paying attention to his clean shaven face and jet black hair, the man smiles down at me. He leans his head forward and kisses my forehead and I respond in a giggle.

The dream changes, like before, I am sitting on the floor. The woman smiles at me, but this time her smile seems off, maybe it is her smeared lipstick. Her hair is matted and dirty. Almost as if she hasn't had a shower in weeks. What had been small dark ringlets now grew into massive circles, like a black eye. The woman gives no praise to the completed Ixora puzzle. Paying attention to the puzzle, it too, seemed off. The puzzle looks battered and old, like a second hand toy. The carpet too, is not clean, it looks ragged and multiple stains discolour the soft beige it once was. The once warmly log wood walls now look like a shack, with some parts being replaced by wooden planks. Like before, the woman picks me up and brings me to the man. This time his face is growing a small beard, his hair disheveled and matted like the woman's. He does not smile but instead looks at me gravely. I hear yelling and banging at the door. Scared, I wail, flinging my arms and legs around whilst the woman desperately tries to calm me down.

"Come on, we have to run!" He whispers harshly in a horse tone. The two adults run to a door on the other side of the room. Opening it and rushing out, we are greeted by collapsed stone structures and heavy dust. I cough, trying to get the dust out of my lungs. The two run and duck behind one of the collapsed structures. My crying settles down, the only sound is my parents' heavy breaths and heavy sobs of my now-ceased crying. Seconds later, I hear an explosion, not far away from us. Our heads turn to the sound and my crying resumes. A roar resonates above us. Our heads move to the noise. Aerial vehicles fly around in circles around us. They are firing bullets towards us. In vain, the two bodies cover my small one. Those were my parents.

Groaning and twisting to the side, I wake up. That dream's been haunting my mind for days on end. Cleo says it's my past coming back to haunt me, but I think otherwise. Getting up from bed, I walk to the wardrobe across from me. It is not a big nor fancy one but it's designed to keep our watches, hair brushes, sneakers and our week's worth of jumpsuits. Picking up my watch from the pool of four watches, I check the time, 4:17. All the other girls are asleep. If I get dressed now, I might be early to breakfast and I can wander the halls, so I can avoid the morning hustle. Classes start at 6'O'clock sharp, so everyone rushes at around 5:30.

Slipping on my jumpsuit, which is incredibly drab. It's like a uniform that everyone has to wear, and they only come in grey, making Acres Valley appear the more dreary. Zion complains about the jumpsuits constantly, although she makes adjustments to them. Often tearing pieces, sewing bits and pieces on it and tying rope pendulously. She, after all is a bit of a fashionista.

Once I get dressed, I walk out of the Sleeping Compartment. Where to go now? Apart from the thoughts of my dead parents, the mystery of what will happen to us on Friday seems the bigger priority. Perhaps looking at Angrove's office might give me some ideas. Walking the quiet hallways, the only sound I hear is the echoes of my footsteps. The walls are a soft white colour, rarely a splotch of faint yellow shows up from the remaining marks of erased vandalism. During my walk, I rarely see any doors, but the ones I do see are the ones of bathrooms and mentor offices.