Never mind

Marks on the wall (I)

Last night I dreamed I was a little girl again. 

I mean, not exactly. I was lying in my bed with sleeplessness. I turned my cellphone off a few hours before, 'cause I thought maybe I could need a moment to think without any distractions; sometimes it's healthy doing that. So, I was there, with nothing to do but looking at the ceiling. 

The wood was not smooth. At simple view you could see some imperfections or irregularities on it. Stains. That's what they look like, stains.

I kept looking them for a while. Then, when I focused on one of them, I noticed they look like faces. Like faces, like hands trying to get out, like monsters... Definitely, like a lot of stories waiting to be created.

By and by, I remembered actually I've lived that situation before, back then I was a child.

Author's note

Hey, guys! I decided to divide the original chapter in two. As I said before, things are a little strange from now on. What do you think about the new course of the narrative line?

I wanted to say thank you for reading my story, and to those persons who encourage me.

-A.