United States


~your local angst-y Christian girl~


soli Deo gloria!

Message to Readers

in a very eerie way, these five pieces work pretty well as a sequence of dreams, one right after the other 0.0

I'm not sure who would want these dreams to be delivered to their mailbox, but whatever :)

Challenge Completed (in which I reveal my dark mind :D)

September 4, 2020

Day One: who are you

You're back in your bed, out of breath.  
What a strange dream.  
Rising from your pillow, you tiptoe down the stairs. Why are you so quiet? Why is your heartbeat the only thing you can hear? 
There is something chasing you. Your adrenaline kicks in. You rush to the door, flinging it wide open and-- 
And then you're in the city.  
Skyscrapers loom over you, bending towards you, like they're bowing, or maybe lowering themselves to swallow you whole. A taxi honks and you realize you're in the middle of the street. But there are no cars.  
There is the noise of the crowds, there is the din of the urban life, but... 
You are alone.  
In your reflection in the windows, your face is blurry, like it's being censored from the world. As you reach out to brush your mirror image, however, it clears up.  
But you can't see anything.  
Who are you. 
Where is everyone.  
There they are.  
The reflection in the windows shows a bustling atmosphere, a multitude of people, but you are stuck on the other side, while your doppelgänger in the mirror stares blankly, with the foggy face.  
Who are you. 
Where do you belong.  
Someone calls your name. 
You turn around. 
There is no one there.  

Day Two: the well

You haven't even realized your fingertips are turning white from gripping the bucket too hard. 
It's chilly.  
Mountains serve as a wall on the horizon and in front of you lies a vast plain, dotted with the occasional dead bush, and of course, the well.  
You're back here again, but you're not sure how you know that.  
With a monotonous rhythm, you make your way to the well, full to the brim with water. This should be easy. 
You've told yourself that before.  
You dip the bucket in the liquid, unusually dark, more like a black hole. Don't fall in, you remind yourself. Not like last time, the thought seems to imply.  
But when you pull your pail out, it is empty. Dry. Not a drop has stuck.  
Confused, you try again.  
And still, there is no reward.  
Frustrated, you try again and again and again, but nothing works.  
No, no, no, you must fill the bucket.  
Out of your peripheral vision, your surroundings change and morph, orbiting around you, like you are the center of the universe, and everyone has shown up to watch you fail. Are there people? How do you know them? Why are they here?  
The waters are swirling and you cry out as your bucket gets lost in the whirlpool. Your breathing quickens as you realize you're doomed.  
No matter how much you tried to fill your bucket, no matter how many times you dipped it in, you were still left unsatisfied.  
In vain, in a panic, you lean over the edge of the well, desperately scooping at the poison-dark water. 
You lose your balance.  
And you fall through nothingness.  

Day Three: fly little birdie

You open your eyes at the bottom of a tree.  
You must've fallen out because your back aches, your head is throbbing, and you have leaves in your hair.  
Rising to your feet, you retake the path, leading to the village. You can smell food cooking over the fire, a recipe your mother used to make.  
Used to. 
Where is she? 
Did something happen to her? 
Why do you have the sinking feeling that you've forgotten something?  
You crouch nearer to the ground, the earth beneath you suddenly losing traction; you're losing equilibrium within yourself, you're losing this war.  
Turn around, a voice says and you think you recognize it. There's a figure on the path, but you can't quite make out the face. Should you know them?  
Come to me, they beckon. Come home.  
Yes. Of course. That must be your mother.  
But as soon as you take a step, another figure appears, this time to your left.  
Come to me, this newcomer calls. I'll protect you. 
And another.  
Come home, they smile. This is where you belong.  
Stay with us, their faceless heads wax and wane. You belong with us.  
This is wrong. They're coming closer, and you realize they are lying through their dagger-sharp teeth. They only mean to imprison you. 
With a scream, you sprout feathery wings and fly, fly far, far away, trying to find home. The wind is your enemy and you eventually grow too tired to search any longer.  
You spiral towards the earth, closing your eyes, shedding a single tear. 
You open your eyes at the bottom of a tree. 

Day Four: the murmuring

You place your hand on the first rung of the ladder and your stomach does flips within you.  
Raising your head to the overcast sky, you squint as you try to see the top, but it disappears into the clouds.  
A murmuring arises from around you and only then you notice the crowd. They're all watching you.  
They won't leave until you've climbed the ladder. 
So you begin.  
And is it just you, or is the murmuring getting louder? 
Hand over hand, foot after foot, you ascend into the heavens. A gust of wind nearly knocks you off, but you hold steady, much to the delight of the mob below.  
Below. So far below. 
Suddenly you're in the eye of the storm, you can't see the ground anymore, pillars of thunderclouds form walls, and still the ladder stretches even higher. The murmuring in your ears increases in volume still, until your own inner voice is crushed by the din of decibels. There is only their chanting, their urging, to climb higher, climb higher, be faster, be smarter, be stronger, be better.  
Your arms ache, your legs tremble, the air thins and the light dims.  
But still you climb on. Somewhere up there is satisfaction. Somewhere up there is perfection.  
You see it. The top, the end to this ordeal.  
But you freeze in horror as wraiths appear above you, and they begin adding more rungs to the ladder, the top becoming farther and farther away.  
You cry out in desperation.  
And still you climb on.  
You notice the wraiths have your face. 
And the murmuring in your ears has become your voice.  
Whispering your death sentence: 
"If you cannot be perfect, you are worthless."

Day Five: stony silence

He walks up to you with that same easy smile, that relaxed gait, that short and sweet "hello", and you haven't felt this happy in a long time.  
...a long time? 
 "How's life without me?" he asks. 
"What do you mean?" you counter. "I just saw you yesterday." 
He smirks, then licks his ice cream cone, something that has mysteriously appeared in your hands as well. It was a tradition, wasn't it? Before he...before he...wait, what? 
"It's easy to forget, isn't it?" he says. You look at him but can't tell what the color of his eyes are.  
"I could never forget you," you retort, indignant and desperate. Desperate
Something crackles beneath your feet and you realize your bare feet are crushing dead grass.  
"You must miss me a lot, then," he says. You notice stone is creeping up the sides of his own feet, encasing them in rock. You start to panic.  
"I do," you say, hands trapped at your sides, stinging nettles poking your feet. "Do you?" 
He stays silent.  
"Do you?" you repeat. 
He doesn't respond. The stone crawls its way up his body and there is nothing you can do.  
He was right. It's easy to forget inside your dreams.  
You want to sob, but you know you've sobbed enough for him already. 
He remains silent by your side. 
It's okay though. 
Dead men don't talk anyways. 



See History
  • September 4, 2020 - 10:04am (Now Viewing)

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  • Zirong

    Awwww I love these so much! The flow is perfect and the Gothic style is amazing. Looking forward to reading more from you!!!

    about 1 year ago
  • happy butterfly

    replying: aww thank you so much,that means alot to me.Also i'm happy you related to it:)<3

    about 1 year ago
  • Huba Huba

    Ah, you interpreted this with poetry. Nice. I like your style.

    about 1 year ago
  • Paisley Blue

    Wow... these took my breath away. You were right—they read as if they are one story, all connected. There is an underlying sense of fear, and confusion, that ties them together. I really love these <3 they're each wonderful, and put together, even better!

    about 1 year ago