The Roar In Her Voice

A Dream Is A Dream Until It Came True

Dedicated to Nutty!

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Sometimes, we are not ourselves. During bad moods, horrible days, and just rotten luck. We get that uncontrollable urge to rip a cat's head off.

But as Hannah said, "If you're feeling blue, try painting yourself a different color."

The colors has been stolen from my life, the paintbrush in my hands snapped into two, and the term "not yourself" is taken to a whole new level.

Where you might never be who you are ever again.

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Water hammered against my body as I ran towards a cave. My legs were unusually powerful, my eyesight too sharp, but all I was aware of at the moment was the rain that seemed intent on seeping through my bones.

I finally reached the cave, and the roof above me caused me so much relief that I was able to breathe properly again. The smell of rain was everywhere, a smell so delicate yet so strong I could almost taste the droplets of water on my tongue.

I was so busy trying to escape the rain's clutches that I barely spared a glance at the angry sky. Now, I felt determined to look at it. And I regretted looking at such an angry sight. The heavens were raging with fury. Rain poured down, hitting the ground with a heavy thunk, as if they were the sleeping stars' tears. What I didn't know was why they were crying.

It was all so deafening, but there was nothing to listen to. Nothing to listen to, too much to hear. The heavy drops of water splattering was as deafening as the overpowering smell of air and water. I was surrounded by fog, rendering my wide eyes useless, except for staring at the gray. I could almost hear the desperate cry of the plants outside as the green leached out of their bodies, the trees trying hard to stay upright, the other shrubs already uprooted.

The tree, I thought. It's all because of the tree.

It's over there, a tiny yet angry voice in my head spoke. The tree that caused all these madness.

My head moved on its own, turning towards the left. My eyes zoomed in on a faraway tree. It was like any other tree, but it's fruit glinted gold, despite the fact that there was no light to shine on it.

The tree, the voice spoke again, not as quiet nor tiny anymore. The voice was getting angrier. It wasn't that loud, but the strength and power behind it remained unconcealed. It was fiercer than the storm, and didn't any thunder to show anger. The tree that started it all.

The tree.... the voice started fading. The tree... laws of motion. Cleo, Cleo... Ms. DeLeon!

I was dragged back to reality by the sharp call. My eyes flew open, and I faced my angry Physics teacher.

"Ms. DeLeon! Were you sleeping in class again?" she snapped, giving me a death glare. If looks could kill, I would already be dead.

"Of course not, ma'am," I said, with a sweet smile and a respectful tone of voice.

"Can you tell me what the three laws of motion are, then?" she asked, not believing me nor dropping the glare.

I could barely control my jaw from dropping down. What was this, fourth grade? This was seventh grade, for the love of all things holy.

"The law of inertia, law of acceleration, and law of action-reaction," I answered with humility glowing from my lying face.

"And who invented those laws?" she demanded with a different kind of ferocity. I knew why she was furious; because she didn't want to be humiliated.