Foretold Memories

Chapter Twenty

I find myself standing in the awe-inspiring room I envisioned the last time I was at the abandoned house. I marvel at the glittering decadence of the chandelier.

I sense movement in front of me and find a handsome man gaping at me. In the deep silence that fills the room, all I can do is now marvel at the sculptured man that stands before me. Picture-perfect, pretty boy face, gold eyes, framed by dark lashes and perfectly positioned white-blonde hair. He is a magnificent specimen. He suddenly begins to bend onto one knee, arms sweeping wide, head bowing. Not knowing what to do I decide to follow what the queens would do in my books, "Rise." I command with a surprising amount of regal authority. I am slightly curious though as to why this man feels the need to bow to me.

Before I could ask the man jumps up and strides out, almost as if he was flying out of the room with the pace he was walking at. I decide to follow pretty boy and find myself in a large hall way with the same design of arched ceilings and smooth marble. I continue to try my best at following the beacon of luminescent hair pretty boy sports. The feeling of tiny pinpricks fleetingly piercing my skin alerts me to the eyes following me down the corridor. I begin to notice every single person and cluster of people I dash pass, halts to gape. Some do a similar bow to the boy from earlier, others just stand stunned. After a few minutes of flickering between the boy and the constant throng of bowing people I manage to lose sight of him. Not entirely sure where I am and how many corners I took to get to this spot, I decide to let my feet take me to where ever they choose to go. If it's one thing I have learned in the last month it is that my intuition is a lot more effective than my memory.

After many twists and turns I begin to swear I am walking down the same patch of corridor of shining marble and alabaster ceilings, almost losing faith in my ability to follow intuition I find myself in front of a large wooden door. Reaching towards the looped black metal I begin to open the door, and am instantly assaulted by the loud and boisterous laughs and chatter of people, I close my eyes as a whoosh of warm, sweet smelling air rushes over my face. Opening them again as I push the door open further to discover a seemingly never ending room, filled to the brim with a city of people. I gawk at the large, pearl coloured marble tables lining the walls beside the door, decorated with sweets, cakes and every delicacy a person would dream of. I try to find the end of the sugary display to find a dizzyingly continuation. It's like trying to view the sunset over the sea as a child. Trying to find the end of the world, that drop off of where it all finishes. But it just continues on and on until you stir yourself crazy with the idea. Above me three, incredibly high and wide, layers of balconies flank the boarders of the room in a downwards slope towards the front of the room. On the floor in front of me, men and woman, young and old stand side by side, pushing forward and through the crowds to find a place at the front. Children are sitting on women's backs and on men's shoulders, fighting to see.

I close my eyes again taking in the familiarity of the scene, memories begin to flood in. Memories of standing in this very room speaking to hundreds of people, meeting and greeting, introducing and conversing. Sneaking extra cookies to the children as they raced about our feet, colliding into the odd individual here and there. I remember being happy, I remember being alive. That spectacular sensation, that singular form of life that is harvested through fleeting moments and every day memories. Memories of being surrounded by joy, love and life. Feeling the friendly love of a grateful friend, feeling the familiar joy of seeing a child's pleasure in the humble experience of sighting a butterfly curling through the air.

The sense of life as if it is a palpable current, streaming through the air. As if it thrives on our very existence, on our very essence, on our souls, our breath. As if it lingers on your skin, coating it in a fine sheen of a star-like glow, as if it catches in your eyes, letting your pupils shine, comparable to incandescent diamonds. Feeling your mind glisten and gleam with prospect, pleasure and potential. Feeling it fuzz with a dopamine fuelled high, passing it onto every being you encounter, identical to an infectious disease. A disease carried through the air we breathe, through the pores of your skin. A disease some spend a life time misidentifying, misunderstanding and misinterpreting. A disease I once held and distributed to all of those around me.

Snapping out of my revere I notice the room has arrived at pin drop silence. I peer to the front of the room and try to see why everyone suddenly seems to have momentarily ceased breathing. I find myself peering straight into the deep abyss of a pair of coffee, boarding onyx coloured eyes. He appears the same as I remember him, beautiful, dark, wicked yet in some way, enchanting. His coffee eyes swirl with a haunted appearance, as if he isn't certain whether he can have faith in what he is seeing.

I reach out to him, I begin to tear down the door that held him from me for long. The need to feel his warm embrace, his gentle touch, the temptation to wrap myself in his calming scent and just run away fuels the fire I felt before I ran from the Bright family trio.

I find his light, his golden orb of soul and essence. I run towards it and grip it with all my being, intertwining our minds together once again. Mingling our emotions and thoughts together, creating the perfect mix of him and I. His lips part in pure bliss recognising me.