Dreaming in Short Stories

Pulse

A/N: Hey, all. So, this is just a small collection of original work that I've managed to write in the past few months. Some will be happier than others. I hope you enjoy! =D

It started with a pulse. It was almost imperceivable. Something that Misha would have easily missed, had it not caused ripples to appear in her lukewarm cup of earl grey tea. She fingered the lipstick-stained rim of her lilac teacup with a long pale finger. It was a practiced motion, a silent contemplation at a small table in the early hours of the morning. A small folded note was next to it.

The sun had barely risen, the shadows in the small kitchen casting everything in a half-light. Misha watched the horizon from her creaky bar stool. Clouds of an unnatural indigo aura began to roll in from the east.

Misha sighed and ran a hand through her blue tinted hair. They had finally found her. She stood from her chair, already missing the feeling of safety it brought her. She looked at the half empty cup and note, waved her hand in front of them. The items vanished.

A gust of wind shook the house and a whispered word of "Dreamer" filled the air. A shiver ran down her spine at the title. They were getting closer. Misha moved quickly, grabbing her favorite indigo jacket from the hook at the backdoor and sprinting in the opposite direction of the clouds, which were shrieking in audible delight at seeing their long hunted prey.

Micha needed to escape. If they caught her they'd catch the rest of them. She needed space to create, or in this case to destroy the world around her. Misha squared her shoulders, closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

She imagined the feeling of dissolving, of nothing under her. She could feel the ground beneath her begin to crumble. She opened her eyes and saw the clawed hand reaching for her. It's haunting voice calling to her. "You will be mine, Misha Lincolns."

She felt a long nail drag across her face for the briefest of moments before the ground gave way. Her eyes closed again a victorious smile on her lips. She let the sensation of falling take over her senses. And then, there was nothing.

When Adeline opened her grey eyes it was pitch black in her small apartment bedroom. The smell of old tea filled her senses. She was beginning to hate the smell of earl grey. She didn't even like tea. A nightmare? Her dark hair was splayed around her on the bed. She took inventory of her limbs and counted back from ten to slow her heart rate. It was woman, just a different scenario. Misha, the woman on the run.

Everything had felt so realistic, so vivid. She turned the light on next to her bed with a quick flick of her wrist and looked across the room to her half finished canvas. Misha's bright blue hair and bright violet eyes stared back. At least these dreams would be her muse for her final project.

Adeline forced herself out of bed and padded her way towards the kitchen one-half asleep step at a time. She stopped short when she saw a lipstick stained violet cup of tea sitting on her paint-covered table. Adeline brushed the cup with forefinger and nearly shrieked when she found it was still slightly warm to the touch.

A note was scratched into the wood next to it. In elegant script it read:

Run, Adeline.

And her never endingnightmare continued.    

And there's that. =) I had a lot of fun writing this one. Some of these short stories have the possibility of being continued, which is why I leave them a bit open ended. So, if anyone wants a particular story to be continued further, just review. =)

~Animerocker