10-21-2009, 10:18 PM
So here's a little something a wrote not too long ago. My writing style keeps changing, but I kind of like this style so far. This is a spin-off/what if piece that's based on a novel I have yet to write. xD;
Any feedback is appreciated, because I hate it when I show my friends stuff and they go "it's good!" Yeah, that's nice. Tell me what I can do better please.
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He awoke with a start.
Images of a woman danced in his head. He could see her running around him, hear her laugh, smell the lingering scent of vanilla as she leaned in closer and... and...
No. Stop. He had to stop.
He opened his eyes that he couldn’t remember closing in the first place and gazed up at the plain ceiling. The ceiling wasn’t clearly visible, but that didn’t bother him. He’d memorized every crack and hole in the white ceiling a long time ago. Every time he woke up from a dream like this, he would just stare up until the remaining wisps of his dream vanished. It worked… most of the time.
This night was one of the few nights that it didn’t work. Even as he mentally traced every disfiguration in the ceiling with his minds’ eye, he couldn’t stop the array of fractured memories that invaded his mind. A faint marking on the ceiling caught his attention. He squinted, trying to see whether or not he had overlooked that particular smudge earlier. When he focused onto the smudge, he realised the smudge wasn’t a smudge at all. It was a star. His eyebrows furrowed together in thought. A star? There better not be a hole in his roof, he paid quite a large sum of money to get his house renovated after all.
A sudden streak of light shot across his ceiling and he quickly turned to look at it only to see it vanish before he could really look at it.
“Isn’t it beautiful?”
The sudden familiar voice made his heart clench painfully.
This was a dream. It had to be a dream. He couldn’t possibly be here right now. He was lying in his bed not even a minute ago. He probably fell back asleep. This was a dream. It had to be. After all, there was no possible way that he could be laying underneath the stars with her at his side. Maybe once there was a possibility, but not anymore.
He could feel the grass tickling him as it swayed carefree in the slight breeze. The breeze ruffled his hair, and tugged gently at his clothes much like the way a mother would do the same for her son. The smell of moist earth and fresh grass assaulted his senses. It was the unmistaken smell of spring.
If this was a dream, why did it seem so real then?
“Lucien?” the soft voice called again.
He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and preparing himself for the worst. After giving himself a brief moment he turned his head to the side.
A pair of startling hazel eyes clashed with his own brown ones, leaving him utterly breathless.
“Oh! You’re awake after all. I thought you fell asleep on me.”
The voice laughed, and Lucien found himself unable to breathe.
This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real.
“Hey,” she nudged him with her elbow. “You never answered my question.”
Lucien only realised then how close he was to her. Her head was turned towards his and she was looking at him questionably. His leg was touching hers and she seemed to be using his arm as a pillow.
“What question?” he finally managed to say. He was relieved when his voice came out as normal sounding even when his stomach was doing back flips.
Her lips quirked up slightly even when she frowned a millisecond later. He couldn’t help but find the movement endearing.
“I was asking if you thought it was beautiful.”
He gazed down at her, his heart thudding painfully in his chest. The moonlight wasn’t enough to make out all of her, but it was enough. He memorized the way she twirled her fingers together when she was impatient and the way she subconsciously rubbed her leg against his for warmth. He memorized the way she leaned into his touch, the way her chestnut hair framed her face and the rise and fall of her chest. He engraved her face into his memory and relished the feeling of her breathe on his face.
“It’s beautiful.”
As soon as the words left his mouth he found himself falling away from the scene. He sat up hurriedly and reached up for the silent figure that was left behind, but to no avail. The scene was falling apart in front of his eyes. The stars and moon blew apart and vanished, followed by the grass and sky. As this went on, he found himself drifting further and further away. Even though there was no light to see by, he saw her standing and looking sadly down at him. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out. He desperately tried to say those three words, but found that he couldn’t.
The figure vanished and he felt his heart shatter.
He woke up again.
He sat up, ignoring the fact that the lingering scent of vanilla left him disoriented. He didn’t bother looking up at the ceiling because he knew it wouldn’t work this night. He pulled himself over to the edge of the bed and just sat there. He didn’t say a word or moved a muscle. The anguished look on his face said enough.
He knew it was a dream. It always was just a dream. He just couldn’t find the strength to let go of the hope that one day he would wake up with his angel by his side and this all would be one bad dream.
This never was a bad dream. It never would be.
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