Capturing Ella

Chapter 36 - Eleanor

Forewarning: This chapter gets graphic and contains ideas that may upset readers. If you are of a sensitive disposition and wish not to read, please don't feel obliged. I'd rather you be safe than read something that may upset or trigger you. Most of this is extracts from another chapter in another one of the books before this so I will edit it later on but the subjects in the chapter are very personal and sensitive as the events in this chapter are based on real events to people close to me.

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I was aware that I was cold. Freezing, in fact. I hugged myself and was surprised to feel one of my jumpers covering my shoulders and arms. Looking down I noticed I was in my large black jumper, the one I would only ever wear to school when I had dance or performance practise. It was a winter's morning and for some reason I was standing in the woods in just the jumper and a pair of jeans. I could see my blonde hair on my shoulder stopping mid-boob. As weird as it sounds – I can actually tell the difference between the Colorado winters and the English winters based on the wood and the way the snow falls. Obviously when I was at home, on the side of a mountain the snowfall was heavy and consistent for long periods of time, with the snowflakes of a larger mass. If we view the snowflake at a higher resolution you could see the individual molecules of water frozen. The temperature of the snow was also a lot colder, which meant it would stick for longer. I only knew this because of my icy gift meant that I could focus on the minuscule difference in the build up of snow. And because I could do that, I could tell I was in England.

I rolled my eyes, sighing as I knew how this would play out; It's been a while since my last night terror. I thought this would happen, giving the events of today. Every time something big happened, I was forced to witness the events of my childhood. Grumbling slightly about the fact I had to endure another night terror when I had hoped for miracles, I walked down the slight hill of the woods. What I saw was absolutely stunning and picturesque – like an image that could be googled or found of Shutterstock. A mixture of oak trees and other various trees reached from the frozen ground to the sky, their leaves with their own dose of snow. The lower levels of bark had also some snow where there were high winds during the blizzard. In the distance through the tree's I could see cars going the national speed limit on the motorway heading up the M4 towards London, and more important to the three main London airports; London Heathrow, Gatwick and Stanstead. Christmas day was two days ago, meaning today was the 27th December. One of the days that people travel meaning the roads were quite busy. However, due to the snow storm that had hit, and it being stupidly early in the morning the roads only had a trickle of people on them.

I let my dream projection skid down the snowy slope, jumping to a stop on the hard shoulder. Looking up the road, I couldn't see my parents two cards and knew I must have been early for the occasion. Early for mental torture caused by my own brain! I jogged across the road, amazed at how much ice still remained on the road. It should have been gritted by now – unfortunately luck and good timing wasn't on our side when the crash happened when I was five. The road grit machine that was meant to grit this part of the motorway was in the service station just up the road, the driver grabbing a fast food breakfast meal.

A few minutes later I saw my Dad's blue family driving down the road. My eldest brother, Christopher, was sitting in the front of Dad's car looking at the map trying to find what junction we would have to get off. We were due to visit our Uncle and Aunt and cousins, the Benedict's in Colorado for the New Year. Little did we all know, we wouldn't make the airport.

In a really roundabout way, I was the only one who went to Colorado after the crash.

And then all the sounds hit me at once. Normally there was a delay in my gift when in a dream with the different senses coming at different times. First sight, then sound, then smell and touch. However, they all came together after the sight. The wind that was whipping around in the trees and my fragile frame started to freeze me to the core. I could hear the crunching on the snow where tyres ran over them. There was a strong smell here – manure, petrol fumes and bonfires. There was also that weird quality snow brought. Whenever it snows the world became quiet. The birds refused to tweet, and the light illuminating the street only just about buzzed.