A Willow's Awakening To Reality

Snowy Dreams

Willow looked around the greyish environment and saw five figurines, all in assorted, bright colors. Three of them were rambling around while the rest two were watching in silence and misery, the vibrant colors covered their true colors while the rest danced around those true colors. He watched and tried to walk towards them, hitting a barrier that sent a hot flame towards them, with the sound of a glass breaking. A white noise represented a scream of a woman, and they burnt with the fire, yet the three figures still danced around the fire, in oblivious care. The rest two figures fought each other with the sound of a television fighting the sound of a glass breaking, representing them while three figurines surrounded them in the fire until they disappeared, and all burnt the more Willow tried to approach them in discomfort and desperation. The fire then started to follow him, and he then stepped back slowly until he reacted and ran from the flames, and never looked back. Until he reached a willow tree and laid down there to rest, without any sensation of discomfort or desperation, or any memory of whatever else was catching onto him. Yet little did he know that the fire had burnt him until he felt nothing. It burnt his memory down and hid it. He was the fire himself, trying to run away from himself, and even though he thought he succeeded, it never went away. He never ran away from himself nor his family that he once had forgotten he had because he ruined it himself. The willow tree looked down at him with its hair flowing, holding its pain. Willow looked up at it with a tiny flow of blood tickled down his nose, rather than a tear. The willow tree hugged Willow's neck tightly as if it were trying to be kind, yet it suffocated Willow and made his nose bleed even more, but he did not care at all, nor tried to fix it. He just waited for something to happen, and it made him sick to wait and wait while the willow tree hugged his neck tighter and tighter, trying to comfort Willow, yet it did not work at all. Willow's body got colder and colder, as if snow started to fall into him, and he was about to force the willow tree to stop, until he heard a voice of a child, that felt as if it came out of his own, but he looked at the willow tree and saw an eye of his own, yet smaller, shedding a tear, and deep in the eye's reflection he saw himself with a lighter skin as if he were being suffocated enough for his blood to exit his head, and so did his hair looked like golden, and noticed he was in a different man.

He jumped out in fear to see the head down on the ground, full of blood flowing down to him, and his hand holding a knife painted with bright blood and looked at it to see the reflection of a little kid. And then he looked at the man again to notice the willow tree was gone. He then felt himself as if he were crying, and started screaming, and burying his face on the grass, that was suddenly colder, and then got his face off the grass to notice bright white snow, and even his hands buried into it. He cried more as the snow froze his hands but cried more cause of the blood that burnt his hands along, and the head being buried too. He looked around, shouting to notice everything was gone but the head, him, and the snow. He screamed louder, in agony until it started raining blood, covering his screams until all he heard was the rain, and all he saw was red, and then black.

He opened his eyes to see the same ceiling again, and to notice he was laying on a couch. "comfortable" he thought to himself, yet he looked around to see it was still dark—but he did not want to go back to sleep. He lit up a candle again to walk to the bedroom, and see "his" reflection, where he saw a man, with dropped, tired blue eyes filled with eyebags, a dry face that showed no light in a world, nor happiness. Above him was the bright white stands of hair that looked like snow, ironically his head always felt cold and light. He looked at his body that was wearing a green jacket, and white baggy pants and then turned to look at himself in the eyes, and at his face until he saw himself raise up his hand to feel his cheek. And then look at his hand for several seconds. He then put it down and started changing his clothes, putting on a few jackets and walking to a calendar to see, "November 20th" He then thought to himself, "two years ago, I met them"