Chapter 1 : A Dream
It was strange. It was not too long ago. When I was six, holding onto the hands of my mother. She was talking to some woman, and old woman to my guess of maybe one hundred eight. Her wrinkly prune-ny face always scared me, with the skin moving like a slug every time she spoke. Like a bag of slugs, squishing and moving as her lips moved. I don’t know why mother talked to her daily. She’s not my grandmother, nor is she related to mom or dad. I don’t know who she is, or way mom bothered talking to this fossil everyday. She’s just yapping and yapping on and on as I stared at this lovely pink velvety table cloth. That’s the only thing I’d actually look at. The rest of this room is dull and boring as a corner. Wooden tables set up here and there, holding photos and vases and ugly pink flowers, the walls hang faded out photos and pictures of the sky, stars and all that stuff.
The dark strokes on the wooden floor hypnotize me and draw my little mind to sleep. But no. I promised myself not to sleep at mom’s conversations today, like every other day. But this day was just begging me to sleep again. I have my little penguin plush with me so I can sleep at any time. I can never sleep without the comfort of its black fur snuggled against my warm cheek. Well, maybe I could sleep today, and try to stay awake tomorrow. As the old hag spoke, I began to drift to sleep, my eyelids dragging themselves to close my weary eyes. As the lashes brush the skin, a loud thud was sounded in the room and echoed. My eyes snapped open to see a girl at the door. A girl dressed with the finest lavishness; affordably by only of an aristocrat family.
The girl was of a beauty through my eyes. But alas, I’m only six and by her height, I’m giving a good guess that’s she’s twelve. She had lovely ruby eyes, giving a vibe of snobbish attitude, but maybe I’m being bias. Her nice pale pink dress has several bows of white and ruffles wrapped around her body and frills at her skirt, like any rich girl would wear, along with thin white stocking with oriental designs swoon on and a pair of polished black shoes. Her blond hair was in the strangest fashion that I almost thought she was a bunny.
The cutest smile fell on her face as she asked the old hag for something. My mind was still in the grasp of dream land, even though my eyes are all open. Still, it bothered me to today on why she came into the room that day, why a rich ‘sophisticated’ girl would walk into this middle class room for anything. My eyes went to the old hag as left her black sleeved arms to go about around the table, grasping a silver fork.
The old woman’s elbow knocked on the china ware, knocking the empty china tea cup off its little pallet plate and sending it to its doom. A spit second there, the rich girl took a dive, but didn’t die for it. Her right gloved hand only inches away from it, her knees bent as it to fall to the ground and dive, her pose froze as the fragile cup froze in mid air. The hag was surprised, mom was shock, I was awed. The old raisin skinned woman smiled, mom drew a hand to her mouth and tighten the grasp on my hand, I stared in awe. The girl took a hold of the handle as she got up and placed the rose petal-ed cup in its nice silver home. The hand in my mother constrict as the hands on my penguin grappled.
Was that a dream? Or was it for real? Did that just girl made that china tea cup stop in midair? It was so real, but yet dream-like. I should’ve kept my promise of not sleeping that day, but I didn’t. But no! I had to fall asleep and I had to wake up with half my brain there, but hey. I was only six. The old hag’s lips moved as her wrinkly hand went way and poured tea in the saved cup, and spoke something to the girl. The only words I can grasp was “…not a drop” and pushed the plate hosting the felled cup down to its doom. The girl reacted again, this time stopping not only the silver plate and the flower-shaped cup; she stopped the water in its tracks. Beads of water floated in the air oh so dream like. The only excuse for this is a dream, a strange bizarrely real dream. But, it felt so real. Each clear detail of the girl dancing, making the hot waters dance with her in their beady matter, the china ware dancing with her too, following her every spin, dips, turns.
A minute of her dizzy dance ended as she placed the plate and cup gently on the velvety pink table. I felt a small gust blew as the wares landed, seeing her bunny ears moved as if the wind was speaking. Slowly she waved her arms, to and fro as one by one, the bead of the lovely shining waters dip in. I saw her nod and her voice rang out like a bell.
The bell sounded with mute. Was it a dream? All this nothing but a figment of my imagination? The shoes tapped tapped the dull brown wooden floor, her dress frizzing and sounding out as she walked her ear near the old hag as she gave words to her. I noticed a shiny gem on the floor. It was near her heels, a circular gleaming circle, reflecting the light with its watery attributes. The black heels stood over the gem; hover over for a few seconds, then crushed the gem with darkness.
A small frown came to the girl’s lips. Her pale lips gain little weight as they form a slight crescent. With a nod, the gloved hand snatched the silver ware and went off out the door. I slipped my hand out of my mom’s grasp and went for the girl in pink and bunny ears, hanging on to dear Mr. Pillows. I slipped out of the door to see the back of the girl, standing there with the white bow perched on her back. Her shoulder went up, then back down as she stared at the busied scene of the pink restaurant. The waiters and waitress rush here and their silver plates in hand, stopping from table to table and shuffling in and out the kitchen door. It was a blur, it’s so unclear. A small hand went to the bow, mines, and tug at the pearly silk.
The pale face turned, a smile came as my lips move. Mute came and mute was understood. Her lips moved, nothing came out. A language of silence communicated, my penguin came to her, by her gloved hand pushed it down, give a shake of heads and mute ended. Her voice rang like a bell, forming the words, “Life isn’t that easy. You’ve got to treasure what you have”
A gloved hand went to my chin and warmth came. Maybe not all aristocratic people are so stuck up. Maybe I’m being bias. The background faded to a dull black, her pale face gleaming in contrast of the void. She then too faded. Slowly the bunny ears began fade into nothing and the ruby eyes disappeared. My eyes opened up to see a horrible done sketched skeleton. Pushing my head up, the flat black square ahead of me displayed a forum of some sort, with a small person on the right hand corner of the window.
Was it all a dream? Or was a remembrance of my childhood in a dream state? A false memory perhaps?
View User's Journal
Ahh! No look!
Shooo! D:<
 |
