The familiar feeling of my baby's luscious brown hair, hanging messily against my chest. Her chest rises slowly up and down, while her lips are slightly parted, allowing the air to flow through her plump lips. Moments like this help me remember the little things in life make one whole big picture.
Trying not to wake Sacha, I pull her long hair out of her freckled face. The cool air runs through the room, hitting the bed directly. Sacha's skin grows goosebumps, so I pull the covers over her.
The white sheets draped almost touching the cloud floor, and the room with this yellow tint from the sun. Everything seems so peaceful, until the silence is interrupted like a rock thrown into a pond. A small little snore comes out of the sleeping angle on top of me.
As I try not to chuckle, my body slips Sacha's off onto the king sized bed. My feet hit the ground with little sound of movement, stressing the fact to be quiet.
I exit the room, closing the rustic door behind me gently. My pale bare chest and black boxers are opposite in image but suit me well. As my pale skin walks through the wooden floored halls, I feel the picture framed walls close in on me. Just as Sacha told me, it's just in my head. I pull myself to a stop when I get the impression that something is watching me; my heart starts to beat faster. Turning my head, I see a picture of Sacha and I kissing, but Sacha is looking straight at me through the picture.
Her mouth starts to move as she talks, "Baby, stop." I blink in confusion; I feel the sweat on my body build, soon feeling the world getting hotter. "Baby get up."
"Keep walking. No turning back," I say as I look away from the picture and start to walk fast enough to hear the wind hit my ears. Anxiety kicks in when I blink and open my eyes to see all the pictures in the hallway gone. My head starts to spin as the walls go from their perfect white to this pale yellow.
"It's the sun," I whisper to myself. Covering my eyes with the palms of my clammy hands and reopening them, the room looks different. I'm back in my cold room.
Sacha is holding a cold rag to my heated forehead. I look up to see my beautiful baby panicking.
"What's wrong?" I start to question. My voice is low and heavy with breathing; she is startled, not expecting me to awake.
Sacha clears her throat, enabling me to listen to the feathery words that trickle out her pursed lips, "Baby, I can't begin to explain. You were dreaming again." I hear her voice going gentle and soft. Tears run out her light brown eyes, slowly down her freckled painted cheeks, leaving a trail on her face, but also a trail of guilt in my heart.
"I'm sorry," I say as my mouth goes dry.
(unedited)
YOU ARE READING
Feather
Paranormal"I don't feel safe," I whisper to myself. "You shouldn't," a voice echoes in my empty room. (trigger warning)
