The mist of condensation seeped through the wall, leaving an unimaginable puddle only the mind could view. It was a chilly winter. The windows transparent and cornered with green mould which clung onto the window sill for dear life.Their beds stood unslept upon ready and waiting for their arrival. Each drop of rain ran simultaneously, joined forces and intended to make the shape of the puddle bigger. The young adolescent was home. Nevertheless, she still held onto the adamant feeling as if she was being watched...
Her mind attuned to its manipulating properties of what we all like to call sleep. She fought it. She lay awake, deprived from sleep thinking about what the next day had in store for her. It wasn't until the early hours of the morning, that her lungs became caked in smoke, as she found it difficult to distribute oxygen to her blood stream. Her eyes stung, clawing back at her eyelids screaming for them to close once again. She did as instructed and forced her way through the smoked stricken room as her lungs continued to fill with thick, black, smoke causing her to envelope herself into a violent coughing fit.
She soon awoke from her previous slumber. It seemed as if her sleep deprivation had worn off and she was no longer perplexed. Her room was its usual sea green colour and her dream catcher hung above her bed, swiftly blowing in the midnight breeze just as she left it. It was all a dream, but for all its dreadful connotations it reminded her of nothing more threatening than the repetitive nightmares she had on a regular basis. A boy walked in. He was in his early teens, about 14 she would say. His face was a catalogue of disappointment as he came to make an attempt to rationalise her odd behaviour. They continued their frantic conversations, the girls eagerness to end it became evident in her expression. Suddenly, the controlled franticness cleared away and they sat there in a mere, peaceful silence. Not awkward, but mere.
