Post by ellodia on Sept 4, 2010 2:12:53 GMT -8
Closing her eyes softly, she awaited that feeling. The prickling on her skin, where every atom of your being is shaken; chilled; touched in such a manner that it makes your body vibrate in an inexplicable phenomenon. Something, someone to take her to that place where perfection wasn’t an abnormality. Time was the air and she readily breathed it in, waiting.
At what costs would she allow herself be consumed by this indescribable pleasurable? She opened her eyes slowly, glancing to the sky’s darkness. Glinting, shimmering stars welcomed her as she let herself slip into paralysis. Breathing in quietly, she could hear the furious screams of her brother’s concern, but once the numbness embraced her, his voice was that of a quiet whisper, slowly losing it’s strength. The beauty of the starry atmosphere cradled her to sleep.
“Special?” The girl sneered. “That’s why you’re never here?” The 10-year-old flipped her hair back, and threw her nose in the air. With her eyes glancing down and the shy, cowering child, she snickered. “What’s so special about a stupid, crybaby like you?” Unaware of the tears filling up in the child’s eyes, the girl’s peers joined in laughter. The child sniffled, gripping the edges of her shirt in concentration. She couldn’t cry—she wouldn’t. Her mentor had explained that the other children wouldn’t understand, but she couldn’t help bragging. He had given her much praise for her ability.
“What’s wrong, little girl? You lost?” The bigger children taunted. Their height wasn’t much of a difference, but they definitely had her beat by one inch. Standing on their very-tip toes, their backs lowered so that the loomed over the victim. Their sinister smiles circled around her at an alarming rate. She was the helpless squirrel and they the vicious Bulldogs. Though foam wasn’t present on their mature lips, she knew well the power had grasped their honest intentions and twisted them to a desperate desire for authority.
The circle was shrinking in size, squeezing her into a claustrophobe’s worst nightmare. In sheer panic, the tiny girl squeezed her eyes shut. Her mentor’s warnings shrieked in the back of her mind, overpowered by her survival instincts.
“Think,” she commanded herself in a quiet whisper. She felt the fingers of one of the elder children, shoving her into the welcoming palms of another. “C’mon, mind! Think!” Reality was starting to blur, she could feel the color around her bleeding from its outline like a watercolor picture.
“Stop.” The area around her did exactly so. The dripping paint was now victim to the empty shapes. The colors traveled upward, pouring into their correct frame.
“A forceful, yet gentle voice,” She murmured dazedly, contemplating what went amiss. She knew that voice, and as soon as her head identified it, a secure feeling washed over her terrified, colorless face.
“Excuse me, Ladies. Is there trouble here?” His voice was deep and raspy, as expected from the years of over use. Both the older children and the young girl’s heads slowly uncurled upward. The older children smiled hesitantly at their apprehension. Before they had time to throw about their pompous slander, the authoritative figure’s disgust kicked in. “Leave. Before I find the time to inform your teacher of your misbehaving.” His booming voice seemed to leave the children with feelings of paralyzing anxiety. One of the older child’s peers pulled at her leader’s shoulder, nudging subtly at the welcomed opportunity to depart. Once the others broke from the fear, they pulled at pieces of the commander’s shirt. With a collaborated jerk at her arms, they finally succeeded. Their superior still couldn’t break the terrified gaze until they all ran, hand in hand, dragging her head in the other direction.
“You really gave her a scare, huh?” The tiny child giggled with excitement. She smiled happily, softening the face of her mentor. Forgetting he lacked a strict expression, his face once again tensed in rage. He cleared his throat to capture his student’s attention.
“I thought we agreed not to share this among your peers? Didn’t I warn you they wouldn’t be able to grasp your ability?” Desperate to gain his approval, the child’s expression shifted to one similar of a puppy.
“But-But! I couldn’t help it! They kept on making fun of me and…and…” Unlike her mentor’s first method, he allowed her to defend herself. He only granted her this attempt because he was certain of her failure.
“But?” He questioned, an egocentric smile curving on his lips. The little girl sighed.
“Sorry…” She stared shamefully at the playground gravel. She was going to mention how she had had things under control, but the reality of the matter was she hadn’t. Her mentor was unable to continue his critical gaze. His frustration melted into concern
“You know this,” he moaned gently. “Sure, I believe that your ability is impressive. But when it comes down to it, its uses are limited.” Her mentor bent down, resting on his knees. His eyes stared into her with meaningful intensity. Its gravity pulled at her eyes so that he peeked into her soul. “You’re not a superhero, Auline. People can hurt you. When you use that ability you can hurt yourself. You’re completely vulnerable before and after its use.” Though Auline’s mentor wasn’t skilled at punishing his student, he didn’t have to. Auline knew when she was required to reflect on her behavior.
“I’m sorry.” She sniffled. Her mentor embraced her as an award.
“It’s alright, Auline. I just want you to be safe.”
Auline’s vision seemed to blur slightly, and grow darker like water poured through the picture’s brightness. Oddly, the thought of feeling fear was far from her, as she allowed whatever mighty forces run their course. It was strange to think all those years of practice had kept her so distant from panic. That she was taught to forget the feelings of anxiety and accept situations for who they were, as if they couldn’t change.
Auline lay motionless facing the ceiling. Her pupils fidgeted, careful not to disrupt her numb body. “So he decided to leave the window closed this time,” She noted humorously. It was a signal her brother’s rebellious behavior towards Auline had become nothing more than the fallen leaves which currently decorated the thirsty brown grass; dead.
The window’s curtains had grown musty and ancient, housing the inevitable dust that attics usually harbored. Through the awkward crack where the two pieces of cloth failed to meet, sunshine shoved its way through. It brightened up the room, giving it a certain comforting glow. The wooden walls stood bare around her, two corners whispering their obvious emptiness. The door glinted with white cheer in contrast to the dim wooden bark lining her room. Near the window, her bed hugged the wall, only offering a nightstand on the other side. Across the foot of the bed, the wall dented into a closet.
Auline smiled slightly, feeling the nerves in her face stretch. It was funny how empty this attic appeared to her; despite the amount of time she has wasted, sulking in this absorbable room. Her horrid memories of depression seemed to seep through the walls like a roof leek would. Unnoticed, sometimes, but definitely present.
Disappointment. Auline remembered it well. Disappointment in herself; in powers out of her control; in the universe for letting this unjust punishment take place.
What had she done wrong, Auline wondered to herself, staring at the gloomy celing. What did she do to deserve this? One could think about Gods, of powers, which punished us accordingly to our behavior, or one could look at it as loss of luck. To some extent, Auline found it comforting to look beyond simple facts and assumed realities, and believe that everything happened for a reason, so that the blame would not crush her. It could be lies; she’s thought of it all too many times to record. But to think that whatever unjust fate was unleashed on her wasn’t all to waste, gave her hope.
“He closed the window,” She reminded herself again. Liquid salty discharge poured down her cheeks. She didn’t know why. He was pestering her, she thought. It was annoying; it was irritating; it was disruptive to Auline’s conscious. But He had given up on the one thing he fought so rigorously for. He had given up on her.
Staring deeply at the rough wooden walls, she could recall a time where things were simpler. She didn’t know of reality then. She never knew of pain. Some say the most real thing you feel is pain. If that were true, then Auline would prefer to be fake. If that would bring everything she had lost back to her, she would become the meaning of fake.
It was the beginning of spring then. Not like the ends of autumn here. Those times were so far apart, like they were separate realities. Time seemed to pass quickly here, slowly there. There was no consistency to how the world flew by. Normal, perhaps, by her standards. There were no patterns to note, but that very fact created a thrilling limitless imagination to life, on how her future may swerve or bloom. She cradled this hope so delicately in her arms; almost forgetting it’s existence. Auline took this enthusiasm for granted more than she could ever realize.
Life was never perfect, but Auline learned to get by. Parentless from as far back as she could remember, relied heavily on her older brother. She was so naïve, oh-so naïve, of how things were to travel freely with no regard to her. Self-centered, maybe. Most children were at that age. It took her years to understand what difficulties her young brother must have faced, dealing with a child, when he was hardly an adult himself.
Despite his youth being swindled by fate, he was born to care. Though it would be better to utilize his special ability with the romantic, intimate love, he had settled for something more prizing and important to him. He had always sacrificed for Auline, and she had turned her ignorant head, throwing fits and words of rage as if they were as fragile as sprinkling rain.
Mother and Father; Parents. Auline hadn’t discovered these terms before elementary school. Her earliest memories included her brother’s calming face. Gentle blue eyes, silky auburn hair, soft expressions. Such maturity, she realized, must have been present in that youthful frame. She had never questioned his age, she realized. It wasn’t something normal within their cozy family. Nor did he speak of parental figures.
He allowed Auline to wander through the stocks of overgrown grass. She’d grab hold of fairly extensive tree limb, and thrash it against the dehydrated brown pillars. She’d be Queen Auline, conquering, (defiant to her superior’s orders) the city of bugs. She’d be a hero; all the bugs would applaud her in Auline’s imaginative mind. Her adventures would always lead her to success and happiness among those around her. Deeply rooted in her heart and soul, was the aspiration to rescue and bring her fellow peers ultimate bliss. It was common for everyone to desire to help others, but the feeling was more extreme for Auline. A yearning that immersed her in an abyss of want and need.
Perhaps it was that belief in a perfect place, and that extreme need for a Utopia that everyone could enjoy, that created such an odd ability. Of course, up until Elementary school, she had resided in such an isolated community.
Soon after Auline attended school, a rather large gap began forming between her and her overworked brother. There were subtle, slight cracks when Auline learned about the world around her. Naturally, one would be astonished at the undiscovered community. So much so, that Auline could learn to love this adventurous world more than the comforting, cozy one she had known so well. The allure of an inexperienced world could create some distance between the two, but that wasn’t quite the case.
It wasn’t her obsolete home that provided space between their seemingly inseparable family. It was the artificial honesty her brother had taught her; the little white lies that, at the time, were told for her protection. No matter how intimate their brother-sister bond might have been, Auline despised lies.
She had reached that age of rebellious behavior quite soon, because of his deceit. Auline was quite mature for her age, realizing earlier on that tantrums would get one nowhere. She was usually well behaved. But the slander had left a deep crack in her trust, and also in their bond.
It had brought Auline to realize how disgusting and rare honesty had become in this bright, undiscovered territory. Soon, Auline could spot it quickly, the slander; the lies. It seemed to drift through the air, floating unnoticed, and occasionally slipped into the mouth of an unsuspecting victim. It was that which separated her from the other Kindergarteners. She could read their intentions, and therefore, didn’t fall for their tricks. Though Auline didn’t always recognize the tall tales, it was more than any other kindergartener could brag about.
However, Auline was too young to think ahead to the consequences of rebelling against their new society. Very soon, she became the punch line for many rather poorly composed jokes. Auline had become the scapegoat.
Auline’s days of authority, which in reality never existed, were officially over. The impossibilities that often filled her mind now struggled against logic, against reality. She kept to herself, and remained rather quiet unless commanded differently. She could feel herself easing into the background, loosing all textures and colors. Invisibility. Wouldn’t that be nice? However, Auline’s inability to express herself properly hadn’t given her pleasure like the idea of being somewhere else did. Freedom. She desired to strive for such a goal.
Gazing out the window one day, she visualized the flat cement shifting into weak hills, drizzled in brightly colored wild flowers. Luscious green strands grew from the dull gray, covering the fields in grass. At last, she added the summer breeze, pulling her very soul to the edges of her body.
Strange, that day was, for it wasn’t out of the ordinary for Auline to let her mind drift into fantasy during pointless lessons. It wasn’t her first time visualizing luxurious scenery either. Control; restraint, never had to be introduced in her mind. It was also far beyond human comprehension that daydreaming would pose such a threat. Despite all logic and previous experience, reality blurred, that day.
Auline first noticed the Goosebumps that clung to her skin, rapidly traveling through her body. She paid little mind to the shiver, considering that spring had yet to approach. But what was impossible to ignore, were her muscles going limp, especially around her face. Caught by surprise, Auline started to panic, only to discover a rather poorly-timed burst of comfortable thrill. From then on it was like an instinct. Her body took over, as the sense of the scene seeped through without restraint. Thoughts were forbidden to Auline at this stage, as she felt the darkness compromise her energy.
Before her eyes opened, she could sense the structure of reality around her. Auline felt the field’s existence, felt the color, sampled the obscurity. It was then her sight could grasp the authenticity of this so-called fantasy.
“Real. It is all so real.” Auline noted in disbelief. She filled her lungs with the purity of summer, brushed her fingers along the essence of beauty, bathed in the golden sunlight. Skepticism was far behind Auline. After all, accepting a fantasy, as reality would be entirely pleasurable—Auline wanted to believe it all.
It was all too soon that the paralysis claimed her from that beauty. Auline struggled madly against the ropes of her past, sucking her back into her living hell. She could distinguish tears rolling down her cheeks, though she hadn’t remembered crying. The numbness set in, as her muscles fell weak. But never did Auline utter words or thoughts of goodbye. She knew, from that very moment, that she’d discover how to return… “No matter what…”
“Auline, Auline” a young child burst into tears, the drops of salty water pouring on to Auline’s cheeks. For a split second, Auline considered the calming meadow and how she had managed to cry without acknowledging it. But the plopping of tears that felt similar to rain and sobs above led her to think otherwise. Overwhelmed by light, she squinted upward; recognizing cluster of concerned faces towering upon her. Auline’s memory went blank as she attempted to figure how two separate realities could coincide.
Drawn to no plausible explanations, she lost herself in the barren sky. Her imaginations soothed her warmly with the impossible existence of people of the sky. They would wander in blue like it was a sea, fly through the airy water, never able to touch the elegant land. The people of the sky would dream of the earth as a sanctuary; a place of ultimate bliss. They would desire for our world as we yearned for theirs. As Auline felt her physical strength drain into the cement around her, she dreamt about the unrelated sky people, praying to leave her earthly world of never-ending questions behind.
At what costs would she allow herself be consumed by this indescribable pleasurable? She opened her eyes slowly, glancing to the sky’s darkness. Glinting, shimmering stars welcomed her as she let herself slip into paralysis. Breathing in quietly, she could hear the furious screams of her brother’s concern, but once the numbness embraced her, his voice was that of a quiet whisper, slowly losing it’s strength. The beauty of the starry atmosphere cradled her to sleep.
“Special?” The girl sneered. “That’s why you’re never here?” The 10-year-old flipped her hair back, and threw her nose in the air. With her eyes glancing down and the shy, cowering child, she snickered. “What’s so special about a stupid, crybaby like you?” Unaware of the tears filling up in the child’s eyes, the girl’s peers joined in laughter. The child sniffled, gripping the edges of her shirt in concentration. She couldn’t cry—she wouldn’t. Her mentor had explained that the other children wouldn’t understand, but she couldn’t help bragging. He had given her much praise for her ability.
“What’s wrong, little girl? You lost?” The bigger children taunted. Their height wasn’t much of a difference, but they definitely had her beat by one inch. Standing on their very-tip toes, their backs lowered so that the loomed over the victim. Their sinister smiles circled around her at an alarming rate. She was the helpless squirrel and they the vicious Bulldogs. Though foam wasn’t present on their mature lips, she knew well the power had grasped their honest intentions and twisted them to a desperate desire for authority.
The circle was shrinking in size, squeezing her into a claustrophobe’s worst nightmare. In sheer panic, the tiny girl squeezed her eyes shut. Her mentor’s warnings shrieked in the back of her mind, overpowered by her survival instincts.
“Think,” she commanded herself in a quiet whisper. She felt the fingers of one of the elder children, shoving her into the welcoming palms of another. “C’mon, mind! Think!” Reality was starting to blur, she could feel the color around her bleeding from its outline like a watercolor picture.
“Stop.” The area around her did exactly so. The dripping paint was now victim to the empty shapes. The colors traveled upward, pouring into their correct frame.
“A forceful, yet gentle voice,” She murmured dazedly, contemplating what went amiss. She knew that voice, and as soon as her head identified it, a secure feeling washed over her terrified, colorless face.
“Excuse me, Ladies. Is there trouble here?” His voice was deep and raspy, as expected from the years of over use. Both the older children and the young girl’s heads slowly uncurled upward. The older children smiled hesitantly at their apprehension. Before they had time to throw about their pompous slander, the authoritative figure’s disgust kicked in. “Leave. Before I find the time to inform your teacher of your misbehaving.” His booming voice seemed to leave the children with feelings of paralyzing anxiety. One of the older child’s peers pulled at her leader’s shoulder, nudging subtly at the welcomed opportunity to depart. Once the others broke from the fear, they pulled at pieces of the commander’s shirt. With a collaborated jerk at her arms, they finally succeeded. Their superior still couldn’t break the terrified gaze until they all ran, hand in hand, dragging her head in the other direction.
“You really gave her a scare, huh?” The tiny child giggled with excitement. She smiled happily, softening the face of her mentor. Forgetting he lacked a strict expression, his face once again tensed in rage. He cleared his throat to capture his student’s attention.
“I thought we agreed not to share this among your peers? Didn’t I warn you they wouldn’t be able to grasp your ability?” Desperate to gain his approval, the child’s expression shifted to one similar of a puppy.
“But-But! I couldn’t help it! They kept on making fun of me and…and…” Unlike her mentor’s first method, he allowed her to defend herself. He only granted her this attempt because he was certain of her failure.
“But?” He questioned, an egocentric smile curving on his lips. The little girl sighed.
“Sorry…” She stared shamefully at the playground gravel. She was going to mention how she had had things under control, but the reality of the matter was she hadn’t. Her mentor was unable to continue his critical gaze. His frustration melted into concern
“You know this,” he moaned gently. “Sure, I believe that your ability is impressive. But when it comes down to it, its uses are limited.” Her mentor bent down, resting on his knees. His eyes stared into her with meaningful intensity. Its gravity pulled at her eyes so that he peeked into her soul. “You’re not a superhero, Auline. People can hurt you. When you use that ability you can hurt yourself. You’re completely vulnerable before and after its use.” Though Auline’s mentor wasn’t skilled at punishing his student, he didn’t have to. Auline knew when she was required to reflect on her behavior.
“I’m sorry.” She sniffled. Her mentor embraced her as an award.
“It’s alright, Auline. I just want you to be safe.”
Auline’s vision seemed to blur slightly, and grow darker like water poured through the picture’s brightness. Oddly, the thought of feeling fear was far from her, as she allowed whatever mighty forces run their course. It was strange to think all those years of practice had kept her so distant from panic. That she was taught to forget the feelings of anxiety and accept situations for who they were, as if they couldn’t change.
Auline lay motionless facing the ceiling. Her pupils fidgeted, careful not to disrupt her numb body. “So he decided to leave the window closed this time,” She noted humorously. It was a signal her brother’s rebellious behavior towards Auline had become nothing more than the fallen leaves which currently decorated the thirsty brown grass; dead.
The window’s curtains had grown musty and ancient, housing the inevitable dust that attics usually harbored. Through the awkward crack where the two pieces of cloth failed to meet, sunshine shoved its way through. It brightened up the room, giving it a certain comforting glow. The wooden walls stood bare around her, two corners whispering their obvious emptiness. The door glinted with white cheer in contrast to the dim wooden bark lining her room. Near the window, her bed hugged the wall, only offering a nightstand on the other side. Across the foot of the bed, the wall dented into a closet.
Auline smiled slightly, feeling the nerves in her face stretch. It was funny how empty this attic appeared to her; despite the amount of time she has wasted, sulking in this absorbable room. Her horrid memories of depression seemed to seep through the walls like a roof leek would. Unnoticed, sometimes, but definitely present.
Disappointment. Auline remembered it well. Disappointment in herself; in powers out of her control; in the universe for letting this unjust punishment take place.
What had she done wrong, Auline wondered to herself, staring at the gloomy celing. What did she do to deserve this? One could think about Gods, of powers, which punished us accordingly to our behavior, or one could look at it as loss of luck. To some extent, Auline found it comforting to look beyond simple facts and assumed realities, and believe that everything happened for a reason, so that the blame would not crush her. It could be lies; she’s thought of it all too many times to record. But to think that whatever unjust fate was unleashed on her wasn’t all to waste, gave her hope.
“He closed the window,” She reminded herself again. Liquid salty discharge poured down her cheeks. She didn’t know why. He was pestering her, she thought. It was annoying; it was irritating; it was disruptive to Auline’s conscious. But He had given up on the one thing he fought so rigorously for. He had given up on her.
Staring deeply at the rough wooden walls, she could recall a time where things were simpler. She didn’t know of reality then. She never knew of pain. Some say the most real thing you feel is pain. If that were true, then Auline would prefer to be fake. If that would bring everything she had lost back to her, she would become the meaning of fake.
It was the beginning of spring then. Not like the ends of autumn here. Those times were so far apart, like they were separate realities. Time seemed to pass quickly here, slowly there. There was no consistency to how the world flew by. Normal, perhaps, by her standards. There were no patterns to note, but that very fact created a thrilling limitless imagination to life, on how her future may swerve or bloom. She cradled this hope so delicately in her arms; almost forgetting it’s existence. Auline took this enthusiasm for granted more than she could ever realize.
Life was never perfect, but Auline learned to get by. Parentless from as far back as she could remember, relied heavily on her older brother. She was so naïve, oh-so naïve, of how things were to travel freely with no regard to her. Self-centered, maybe. Most children were at that age. It took her years to understand what difficulties her young brother must have faced, dealing with a child, when he was hardly an adult himself.
Despite his youth being swindled by fate, he was born to care. Though it would be better to utilize his special ability with the romantic, intimate love, he had settled for something more prizing and important to him. He had always sacrificed for Auline, and she had turned her ignorant head, throwing fits and words of rage as if they were as fragile as sprinkling rain.
Mother and Father; Parents. Auline hadn’t discovered these terms before elementary school. Her earliest memories included her brother’s calming face. Gentle blue eyes, silky auburn hair, soft expressions. Such maturity, she realized, must have been present in that youthful frame. She had never questioned his age, she realized. It wasn’t something normal within their cozy family. Nor did he speak of parental figures.
He allowed Auline to wander through the stocks of overgrown grass. She’d grab hold of fairly extensive tree limb, and thrash it against the dehydrated brown pillars. She’d be Queen Auline, conquering, (defiant to her superior’s orders) the city of bugs. She’d be a hero; all the bugs would applaud her in Auline’s imaginative mind. Her adventures would always lead her to success and happiness among those around her. Deeply rooted in her heart and soul, was the aspiration to rescue and bring her fellow peers ultimate bliss. It was common for everyone to desire to help others, but the feeling was more extreme for Auline. A yearning that immersed her in an abyss of want and need.
Perhaps it was that belief in a perfect place, and that extreme need for a Utopia that everyone could enjoy, that created such an odd ability. Of course, up until Elementary school, she had resided in such an isolated community.
Soon after Auline attended school, a rather large gap began forming between her and her overworked brother. There were subtle, slight cracks when Auline learned about the world around her. Naturally, one would be astonished at the undiscovered community. So much so, that Auline could learn to love this adventurous world more than the comforting, cozy one she had known so well. The allure of an inexperienced world could create some distance between the two, but that wasn’t quite the case.
It wasn’t her obsolete home that provided space between their seemingly inseparable family. It was the artificial honesty her brother had taught her; the little white lies that, at the time, were told for her protection. No matter how intimate their brother-sister bond might have been, Auline despised lies.
She had reached that age of rebellious behavior quite soon, because of his deceit. Auline was quite mature for her age, realizing earlier on that tantrums would get one nowhere. She was usually well behaved. But the slander had left a deep crack in her trust, and also in their bond.
It had brought Auline to realize how disgusting and rare honesty had become in this bright, undiscovered territory. Soon, Auline could spot it quickly, the slander; the lies. It seemed to drift through the air, floating unnoticed, and occasionally slipped into the mouth of an unsuspecting victim. It was that which separated her from the other Kindergarteners. She could read their intentions, and therefore, didn’t fall for their tricks. Though Auline didn’t always recognize the tall tales, it was more than any other kindergartener could brag about.
However, Auline was too young to think ahead to the consequences of rebelling against their new society. Very soon, she became the punch line for many rather poorly composed jokes. Auline had become the scapegoat.
Auline’s days of authority, which in reality never existed, were officially over. The impossibilities that often filled her mind now struggled against logic, against reality. She kept to herself, and remained rather quiet unless commanded differently. She could feel herself easing into the background, loosing all textures and colors. Invisibility. Wouldn’t that be nice? However, Auline’s inability to express herself properly hadn’t given her pleasure like the idea of being somewhere else did. Freedom. She desired to strive for such a goal.
Gazing out the window one day, she visualized the flat cement shifting into weak hills, drizzled in brightly colored wild flowers. Luscious green strands grew from the dull gray, covering the fields in grass. At last, she added the summer breeze, pulling her very soul to the edges of her body.
Strange, that day was, for it wasn’t out of the ordinary for Auline to let her mind drift into fantasy during pointless lessons. It wasn’t her first time visualizing luxurious scenery either. Control; restraint, never had to be introduced in her mind. It was also far beyond human comprehension that daydreaming would pose such a threat. Despite all logic and previous experience, reality blurred, that day.
Auline first noticed the Goosebumps that clung to her skin, rapidly traveling through her body. She paid little mind to the shiver, considering that spring had yet to approach. But what was impossible to ignore, were her muscles going limp, especially around her face. Caught by surprise, Auline started to panic, only to discover a rather poorly-timed burst of comfortable thrill. From then on it was like an instinct. Her body took over, as the sense of the scene seeped through without restraint. Thoughts were forbidden to Auline at this stage, as she felt the darkness compromise her energy.
Before her eyes opened, she could sense the structure of reality around her. Auline felt the field’s existence, felt the color, sampled the obscurity. It was then her sight could grasp the authenticity of this so-called fantasy.
“Real. It is all so real.” Auline noted in disbelief. She filled her lungs with the purity of summer, brushed her fingers along the essence of beauty, bathed in the golden sunlight. Skepticism was far behind Auline. After all, accepting a fantasy, as reality would be entirely pleasurable—Auline wanted to believe it all.
It was all too soon that the paralysis claimed her from that beauty. Auline struggled madly against the ropes of her past, sucking her back into her living hell. She could distinguish tears rolling down her cheeks, though she hadn’t remembered crying. The numbness set in, as her muscles fell weak. But never did Auline utter words or thoughts of goodbye. She knew, from that very moment, that she’d discover how to return… “No matter what…”
“Auline, Auline” a young child burst into tears, the drops of salty water pouring on to Auline’s cheeks. For a split second, Auline considered the calming meadow and how she had managed to cry without acknowledging it. But the plopping of tears that felt similar to rain and sobs above led her to think otherwise. Overwhelmed by light, she squinted upward; recognizing cluster of concerned faces towering upon her. Auline’s memory went blank as she attempted to figure how two separate realities could coincide.
Drawn to no plausible explanations, she lost herself in the barren sky. Her imaginations soothed her warmly with the impossible existence of people of the sky. They would wander in blue like it was a sea, fly through the airy water, never able to touch the elegant land. The people of the sky would dream of the earth as a sanctuary; a place of ultimate bliss. They would desire for our world as we yearned for theirs. As Auline felt her physical strength drain into the cement around her, she dreamt about the unrelated sky people, praying to leave her earthly world of never-ending questions behind.