Willow Torrance was everything her sister Jackie wasn't. She hated the thought of death and darkness, wanting nothing to do with the evils hidden within Castle Rock. Though, fate had other ideas when a distant dream starts to reoccur again, one she...
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When her hands move over the canvas, it's almost as if her mind was directing her hand without permission, odd perhaps, but that's how it was. She often never knew what she would be drawing until it was completely finished and then memories seem to resurface like the way you fall asleep. Slowly, and then all at once. She sees reflections of her own mind as she paints, but there is also something else. It's as if she isn't the only one painting, like someone else is linked to her as well.
She supposed maybe it was true, or maybe she was just crazy. Probably the latter. When Willow was younger, she was positive she was going insane. Around ten she started to dream about the same thing every night for months. She would find herself in the woods just walking for miles and miles on end. And every single time she would find a metal cage with a man standing inside of it, looking right at her. But she never knew what his face looked like, just having memorized every single detail of the tall and lanky figure.
The last dream she had like that was different, though. She heard a voice and everything she experienced in the dream felt so real. It was as if she was having a lucid dream, and there was no escaping it. She remembers waking up the next morning with blood in her ears and then did she realize maybe it was real. Just maybe. So when she began to paint, she felt a calmness she hasn't felt in a very long time. It was the safe haven in the horrible town she lived in.
Willow groaned in annoyance as her curly locks of fiery red hair once again fell into her face. She blew the strand, but watched as the orange sunset lock came right back to it's annoying position. Willow hated her hair, it was nothing like her personality. She wished she had warm brown locks or sandy blonde hair like her sister Jackie, because people mistake her for being feisty at first glance. She was anything but.
Her sister though, was the complete opposite of Willow. Her parents would sometimes wonder why Jackie hadn't been given the scorching locks instead of Willow to match her hard tempered personality. Willow agreed, most of the time anyways. Jackie surprisingly wasn't always tempered, she was loving and caring when she needed to be.
Another reason Willow despised her hair was because of the freckles scattered across her face, completely covering every pale inch of her features. The freckles made it seem as if her locks were capturing the light in vibrant ruby hues, making her whole face glow. Though, what she hated the most about her hair was whenever she blushed, her cheeks matched her hair, making her look as if her whole head was on fire. She blushed a lot.
Letting down the paint brush, she finally decided to take a break and analyze what she was doing. The canvas was covered in different shades of blue making it look as if it were twilight, before dusk approached. Her hands then ran through her hair, not caring if paint splotches got stuck in the roots, and carefully stood up from the stool.
