Rooms' Dreams (roomsdreams) wrote in rooms, @ 2015-05-30 10:32:00 |
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Entry tags: | *narrative, plot: dreams |
Reveal
The tale begins like this:
Two wolves are fighting. One is evil, the embodiment of anger, envy, sorrow and all the emotions that bring one low. One is good, full of love, hope, peace, and all the things that lift one to the clouds.
Which one wins?
The one that is fed.
Her heart was feasted on. A mass of muscle and blood and life sustaining activity and hers was eaten by rows of miniscule sharks teeth belonging to one howling, baying wolf.
She screamed until the world went bloated corpse gray around the edges of her vision. Until her throat hurt and something shifted inside her, like a child that was much too large, hands not beating on her organs but her bones. A steady throb against her ribs. Knock, knock, is anyone there?
There was no thought about where to go, just a mindless stumble, her hands outstretched and washing over her vanity, crack went the mirror. Tumble, tumble, went bottles of perfume, her hair brush, her lotion. Smack went her handheld mirror, all down to the planks of hardwood flooring. Down, down, her knees went crack, slice, the scent of copper. She had to - She had to -
The walls shifted, expanded, algae and moss covered glass, clear turned green, then gray as it began to die. She screamed, hands jerking to her mouth, a puddle of hot pennies under her knees.
Shh, shh.
Her room was changing, there was red, then Stygian black, black like coal smokestacks and the garb of undertakers. Black and black and black and meanwhile that thing under her ribs was cooing.
Shh, shh, you're fine.
She wasn't, she wasn't, she rolled over to side and saw withered vines snaking across the greenhouse roof. There was no sunlight here, no life, nothing but death and the wolves. She was going to die here too, her heart was already eaten, this was the last synapses in her brain firing. Her son, her sons -
Shhh, Wanda. That's right. They're going to be fine.
Were they? Could they be? They had to be. She cried, little gurgle of tears soaking into the hair at her temples. She should just stay here. She was so tired, she was dying (wasn't she?), yes, yes, there was the smell of blood. There was pain in her chest and her knees and her stomach where - where her boys had come out. Yes. She was so tired, so very tired, her heart had been a delicacy. Her boys were going to be fine. Her boys were - her boys were going to be fine without her. Weren't they already? Yes, yes, Billy was getting married, he was moving on, he didn't have time for her anymore. She hiccuped.
The wolf was fed.
Shh, Wanda. Go to sleep.