I hear a sigh from the front of the house, a room away. "Valentine, I'm home, Sweetie." A honey covered twinkly voice says. She walks in, the woman who refuses to call me Velvet because Valentine is my "beautiful birth-given name."
A tall, willowy brunette in a blue pant suit walks in, dropping her silver keys on the round glass table in between the flower chair and brown leather coach I'm sitting on. "What are you doing?" She comes over to squeeze my bare shoulder. She looks at me with shocked ocean eyes.
I look down at myself to find...nothing...except my bare breasts staring back at me. "Mom, why am I naked?" I ask, horrified and scared. I didn't do that, did I? All I remember is staring out the window. How did this happen?
"I was going to ask you that," she sighs out, a small smile on her lips.
"Why are you smiling, what if someone came and shot me and this is a dream? Mom, if you can hear me, get home, they might be robbing the house."
My mom laughs heartily as if I just told the funniest joke ever shared. She brushes back my chestnut hair, a small, peaceful smile showing a small amount of white teeth adorns her face.
"Honey, you are fine. Shh," She kisses my forehead gently, "I'm going to get started on dinner, did you do your homework yet?"
"Mom, remember, there's no school during the testing." I say to my beautiful mom, scratching the side of my nose.
"Oh! Right," She says, swaying forward and backwards, her hands in a tight, awkward grasp in front of her. "Well, then how about you take a nap?"
"Alright, love you." I kiss her cheek on my way to the stairs. She brushes her hand across my arm, like she doesn't want to alarm me, but she wants to take my temperature or something.
"Love you, too."
I take the stairs two at a time, not bothering with the railing, I have pretty good balance. The stairs have two hallways, one to my right and one to my left. The hallway to my right has my mom's room and a closet. The hallway to my left has my room and a window and a room that has spiral stairs leading into the attic. I turn down the hallway on my left.
My perfectly painted white door opens when I turn the cold, metal knob. A sweet pumpkin aroma meets my freckle dotted nose, familiar, homey. The light that streams through the window is the light source I usually use, making the room presently look grey in it's quiet peacefulness.
I look around the room that hasn't changed since I was twelve years-old. Posters and taped pictures dominate one wall while charcoal drawings and quotes hold any remaining wall space I have. My closet has four shelves. One for past school note books, shirts, shorts and skirts. The next shelf up has my pajamas, jeans, and leggings. The third shelf up has bins that contain the only bathing suit I own, sweaters, and jackets. The highest and fourth shelf has two sleeping bags and blankets from when I was a kid, there is also another entrance to the attic. The attic is like my personal man cave. It's full of books and an old fashioned T.V. I'd like to think I have a pretty large range of enjoyable reads. My bookshelves are alphabetically organized, just the way I like it.
I hop on my black and red sheets that cover my twin bed. It bounces twice then settles. I sigh, letting the top half of my body fall back on the bed.
My hand-knitted black angel pillow that I made many years ago scratches harshly against my face. The stitches are not tight and they seem to stray from the original design, my amateur work noticeable. I don't like supernaturals but it seemed like a fun idea.
The sheets feel so...soft...and warm...and...
The last thing I hear before the darkness overcame me was "Curse, curse, curse,"
