The Weaver of Dreams

Chapter 1

Normally I don't dream. Dreaming for my kind is not normal, but now, in my shivering sweat, that's all I do. By the time I'm awake, my mind is flooding with unanswered questions. The dream, that is neither good or bad, still engraved in my mind.

I'm standing in an empty corridor staring, but not seeing anything. Rooted in my position, unable to move. I hear it. A voice in the distance crawling to reach me. Feeling my power radiate through me, I release it, freeing my white blanket of fog. Relaxing into my shield, I hear the voice creeping closer. As the white shield surrounds me, I realize it wouldn't hold this creature away. I desperately reach for more power, not knowing the feeling was already coursing through my veins. By my command I release it. My body enjoying the unexplainable feeling, and even my power I controlled, was swirling into my surroundings. But by the time I was done, my white shining armor was poisoned by a new color. A color of darkness, stealing the light of day, drifts the white with dark, cold energy.

                                                                                         ***
I walk out of my bedroom, wanting to get out of my now prison. And then steadily, reluctantly, I descend the endless stairs. The urge to grab something, to bring me back to reality, has never been this reassuring. As my fingers glide over the bleak rails, I hear a melodious tune an earshot away. I suddenly see her, my loving aunt working her fragile hands to make something wonderful. Aunt Chrissy is the only family I have left. I was only six when my parents got in a car crash. Both of my parents were very exceptional dream weavers, but on their way home the unfortunate event happened. Aunt Chrissy doesn't talk much about it, and I don't force her to. In more ways than one, she reminds me a lot of my mom, or at least what I remember of her
   

"Good morning Serena. Sleep well?" she asked not knowing the recent events of my nightmares. Not noticing this event before, but my hands are trembling, I clench my hands to hide it. A chilling memory started to surface in my subconscious.

 "Elizabeth, you can't just ignore this sign." Aunt Chrissy looks at her in determination.
  

"Chrissy, what would happen if I did something about it? No matter what I do she'll end up the same way." defeat clearly marked on my mother's face.

"Eliza..." but was cut short.

"No. You know as well as I do whenever we dream it will eventually come true." 

"Then what shall I do about Serena?" looking anywhere, but her sister. Slowly I start to fade into the shadows, not wanting to hear any more of the conversation.

                                                                                      ***

"I'm well Chrissy," I flash a fake smile. If I were to tell her of this, who knows what she would do or what would happen to her. Gradually, Aunt Chrissy's delicate hands reached out to give me breakfast; however, something else she carried caught my eye.

"What's that you're holding?" I question her, knowing she would have to tell me. Instead, her short fingers graze across the mail and slowly hands me the envelope.

"I believe this is for you." without any hesitation I rip it open, soon to admire the enchanting writing that's before me. The writing carefully inked spells out the name of the holder, me.

Dear Miss Serena Micheals,