I gently trail my fingertips across the glassy surface of the pitch black water. Ripples elegantly trail in their wake and bright colours erupt from the tiny waves, swirling themselves into incomprehensible shapes. I feel my long hair being lifted off of my twelve year old back back and cool night air daces across my scalp. I glance down to see the world beneath my feet getting smaller as I am suspended in the air, hanging my non-existent threads in the crisp air.
The earth below me begins to twist and turn, writhing as if in agony. The motion stops and I float gently down back to earth. my bare feet tough cold, frosted grass and i examine my surroundings.
London. It's snowing. No please no. i understand the meaning of this. i brace my self and grasp the thin faded cloth of my nightgown. The towers, castles, buildings all tower over me but i refuse to cringe. I am not getting smaller, nor are the architectures growing larger. They are simply Engulfing my cold body. For a fractured second, darkness is all i see.
Darkness is all I feel.
Darkness is all I am.
I wake up gasping and gripping the rough sheets of my bed. I know I am at my house, but i have no idea of my age. I look curiously down at my hands. My wrinkled and cracked flesh answers my question. I must be at least 95, I look in the mirror at my frown creased face. I lay back down and silently pray that my dreams tun to London.
I lay awake and will my dreams to turn to London. That was the one way to skip around in this wretched loop. I close my eyes and entwine my fingers in the bed sheets. I let dreams engulf my body.
Crows
Black silhouettes of feathers, plaguing me, haunting me. They look small and distant. I reach a hand out to try to touch one, even though I knew it was very far away. My fingertips brushed against dusty feathers and I realize that they are not far away, they are simply very small.
Tiny, tiny little bundles of feathers swirling around in the air. I dare not look down, for I know there is no ground, just vast glittering ocean, full of life. I look down and i'm falling faster and faster. I feel my heart leap into my head, the water is getting smaller until it's just a small puddle which I lay broken and shattered in.
The crows, begin pecking small holes into my flesh. I bleed, not blood, but life, beautiful, colourful, life seeping out of me and swirling into the air.
I wake up and feel a surge of electricity surge through my frail body. I hear screaming of the lives of those lost to the time keepers. Screams for the lives of the people who could never deserve what is happening to me. no one knew what was happening to me. All i knew was that I am in waking hell.
All i knew is the i had to dream of London.
