14: Beatrice

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--This chapter's dedicated to @Millayst for reminding me of this story. Wellp I guess I forgott--

Anyways have fun!

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One thing I absolutely came to hate are high pitched voices that people faked. Why would you want to fake your voice? It's fine if your voice is too deep. Or not deep. Or not how you would want it to be. 


No one is perfect.

I turned around, "Yes?"

"I'm to take a sample of your blood or spit-"

"I'm supposed to spit?" Is that how one does.. DNA tests?

"Yes-" she explained.

I nodded on. 

Yay! Who doesn't like spitting right?





I sat down on my bed that night, and thought on life. Such boring days, I swear I'm gonna disappear one of these days. Life's sad. 

So I just went to sleep. Nothing for me to do anyways.




To be honest, I don't like dreaming. Dreams feel... like conversation. They are conversations, but a weird type of conversations. I hate it. 

I clutched my little snowflake pendant. I've been wearing it since the day I had it. It's awesome. However, it is almost always cold - even when it shouldn't be. There even has been times when the pendant feels like it's made of snow - of ice. It feels weird to touch it, as if some unknown energy is trapped in it.


In my dreams, I saw a young girl. 

"Hello, Tricia," Her voice was warm and gentle. 

The other, who is probably Tricia replied with a soft, "I can't."

Can't what?

"You know it's the only way, darling," the girl mused.

"Must be another-"

"Well, there isn't," the girl, "Kill the girl. If you cannot do so, capture her alive. If you cannot do so, go die again. We have no need of you."


And that is when I woke. 

Somehow, it wasn't the middle of the night. Such small dream, it should take about five minutes in real time. 

But it didn't...

Dreams are weird indeed, are they not?

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⏰ Last updated: Aug 12, 2024 ⏰

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