Black Sheep

I'll slap you so hard that even Google won't be able to find you

Buddha said that if you want to fly, you have to get rid of everything that holds you down. When you fly, you feel free. It's like all your worries, problems, anxiety all dissipate.

That's exactly how I feel right now.

I'm not worried about my holiday homework that's due in four days, I'm not stressed about my entrance exams, I'm not even scared of my cousin's Barbie dolls anymore, not even after she named one Annabelle and gave her a makeover so that she resembled the demonic vessel.

I get to fly everyday, in my dreams duh. Since I have no company, it can get a little lonely up here with the evening sky as my backdrop. Unfortunately there is no prince charming who'll make his grand entrance on a Pegasus and if one did appear he better have eyes that aren't icy blue in colour.

Why, you might inquire?

Well, after ten minutes of silence -yes scientist estimate dreams to be around ten to fifteen minutes long, blah, blah, blah- I fall from grace.

The wind hitting my face as I fall uncontrollably fast, my pretentious wings lay immobile and I pathetically thrash my limb around desperately looking for something to reach out to, to break my fall. This happens practically every night, talk about Deja Vu and there's nothing I can do, to break my fall or the chain of the all too familiar events. It happens, again and again. Like in Happy Death Day, where our heroin dies but wakes up again.

No matter how many times I practice what to say or how to roll like a sophisticated person, it never works. Its like the order of the events cannot be tampered with and that sucks.

Ouch!

And I've successfully landed face first on the rocky floor, my lips connecting in an accidental kiss with the most gorgeous guy I've ever seen. At this point, I'm practically deemed a pedophile as this boy is none another than a fourteen year old guy I must have seen at the Subway before my freak accident.

Our brains have the ability to remember people we've seen like once in a decade and transfer them to our dreams. Yet suffer from the inability to remember Biology notes we crammed last minute for a very important exam.

Now I'm rolling over and I hit my head against the edge of a sharp rock. It hurts like hell, but that isn't my main concern. I'm worried about the blond boy with the most gorgeous icy blue eyes that torment me every night.

The red bike that makes it's appearance out of nowhere, literally ends up mangling him. I desperately reach out, to try and entangle my fingers in his bloody locks in hopes of pulling him away.

Its a daily occurrence, the fading azure is my witness. Hundreds of shades of indigo and pink are sprawled across the evening sky, but its beauty is long forgotten for a heartbreaking tragedy never fails to take place. Here we both lay surrounded in a pool of blood, my vision getting blurry as I pathetically reach out to prevent the boy from falling into an eternal slumber; death.

~*~

"Mavis Kinsley get your freaking half- Australian butt here", I yell, prancing around the two story mansion in nothing but my unicorn underwear and a tank top.

Where is the devil's daughter. Remember the cousin I formerly mentioned, the one who has a creepy obsession with Annabelle. She is the devil incarnate. Sure she isn't like Lucifer, from Lucifer but she's a hundred times worse. The seven year old decided that it would be funny to empty out my lingerie drawer and sell all its contents at some bizarre yard sale. The worst part is, she made more money than I do waiting tables every Sunday for three months.