Birthmarks

Within

Heather, a late teen within her years, lies awake; staring off into the ceiling dead at night, contemplating whether what she saw was a dream or not. Her mind ached and swelled as the night boiled around her on a summer night, hearing the chirps of constructing crickets outside her palladian-style balcony.

She could feel the moon's breath swaying from her balcony, intertwining the drapery before swooshing into her room. The freshening breeze nipping underneath her thick sheer nightdress as it filled the room by the moon's blessing after the sun's prayer. The room's quality, still warm with a speck of lingering moisture from the rainfall before, mimics the atmosphere lingering outside.

Her eyes. eroding with fatigue while she continuously stared at the ceiling. With hands resting gently on her midi nightdress, feeling the rough fabric of thick sheer underneath them while displaying a silent fold.

Her eyebrows gently squeezed together as she tried to make sense of it all. was it something she ate while she was having one of her adventures through the woods? Maybe it was her imagination going too far, or maybe she brushed up against something that causes hallucinations. That must be it, right? - there was no possible way on what she saw could've been real.

Heather tosses and turns, feeling the coolness as she brings herself over, maintaining an appeal of a wrinkled nose and puckered lips gently complementing her squeezed eyebrows. The more her mind refuses to let the occurrence go, the more her mind aches. It was a perpetual scene in her head, worsening the ache by the seconds.

Heather gently lifted herself up. She felt frustrated, she felt as if punching her pillow with a solid thud, would make her sleep, but at last, she realized it's a perpetual emotion. Heather flumps her head onto its velvety comportment. A burst of cold air split from both sides, fluttering Heather's hair in a mini paroxysm.

"What was it!?" Heather tries to whisper her irritation, throwing her arms out in aggravation. But her words reverberate around the room as another breeze gently flows in. What she saw wasn't normal. It was like a scene in a fantasy movie, some magical abracadabra shit. A scene so fictional that even when one wishing for it couldn't make it real. Yet, her mind had solidified with the idea that it was.

She felt the sensations, she witnessed her arm illuminating in the origins of her birthmark, and she heard what sounded like a rustle of wind, signs for her mind to paint the picture of it being real.

Her pointer figure flies upward at the ceiling. Maybe that's it - she just has to reanimate what she did this afternoon. Her butler and the guards were already watching over her like a hawk in the skies. Heather would need to slip out when the time was right, and the time was surely now.

"That's it!" Her whisper nearly fainted as she flung herself up from her bed, looking off into the direction of her balcony.

Heather's feet ruffles, feeling a gentle roughness as they slide off the cotton sheets, softly placing them upon the marbled floor, its complexion a numbing cold. The moon is high and the stars are bright. Maybe the sound of the choiring crickets can escape her melody.

The silky curtains sway from a breezy disturbance, creating a whooshing disobedience as the fabric wave glistened from the moonlight, waiting for her.

The air wraps around her with a delicate chill, soothing her hair with a quiet push, slightly making her skin prick as she coasts herself out and into the opening. The crickets choir dialed louder than a calming talks-men. Hearing a faint bass of frogs joining the orchestra off in the distance.

As she stands on her balcony, a breeze greets her with the moon's welcoming smile. The orchestra below her creates a tranquil blessing from mother nature.