The Parallel Paths

Hatred

ALICE POV

I was back here—

again.

This same gloomy meadow.

The wind as soft as ever, a faint whisper against my skin, gently pushing my hair back with tender care.

The grey skies pattered with gentle rain, each drop shifting my awareness more within this realm.

The grass still soft and damp beneath my glowing palms, leaving my hands damp from the mist that hovered above me.

It all felt so real,

Yet—

I was well aware of this dream.

Everything was the same yet that figure in the distance. That wasn't the same from when I had left.

I pushed myself up above the fog, a faint ruffle formed around my shoulders. Immediately, I locked onto that familiar figure..

The darkness of the meadow, I thought about calling her... him? I felt a strange connection, yet the thought of approaching.. made me eerie.

Standing upward now, the wind whispered soft air against my skin. The grass fluttered more rapidly and the rain shifted within the wind. I had always dreamed of this, well I was technically now but—

I had always dreamed of being in such a peaceful remote place, such as this exact meadow. I realize I didn't acknowledge it at first, but now—it gave me a sense of comfort.

I felt an odd connection to it, as if I were drawn to its mysterious black fog and luring void color.

Suddenly, it began stepping closer, its trail of black fog fading into the wind,

a curse of mist.

I flinched yet only watched, my fear growing more uncontrollable leaving me stuck in place. It couldn't hurt me right? Nothing ever happens to me, so why would it hurt me?

Face to face.

Black and white.

Pure and dark.

What could it want?

Why was it terrorizing me in this specific world? The most peaceful of all and it lingered like a burden.

The tension was tingling between us, as if I could actually feel the weight of it, ashes through my fingertips.  

...

"Who are you?"

The wind replied instead with a loud gust between us, my eyes now catching a glimpse of my glowing white hair.

I shifted my vision downward. My hands, my body, was that pure white once more, except a singular streak down my finger. It painted a devious flowing black streak, like a paintbrush dipped in water.

I saw in the blurred background, it reaching out. My vision focusing back to it. I flinched, yet didn't pull away.. for that odd connection began to grow strong, too strong for me to pull away.

I braced myself for what would occur. What if I obliterated? Immense pain shot through me? Surely whatever it was doing couldn't have felt pleasing.