❥ zero

Aug 15, 2011 20:47

The narrow streets she walks through are completely empty. There’s no one around, no noise beside the sound of her steps. The sun rises projecting long, dark shadows all around her. She clutches a paper bag to her chest and runs.

From the darkening alleys, several people start marching out towards her-- she can tell they’re all male from what she can see of their clothes and hair. And they’re scary. Some are wearing colourful masks, some have guns and try to shoot at her while she rushes by-- the sounds of bullets hitting the ground just inches short of her feet echoes in the otherwise silent street. Some try to tackle her down and one even reaches her and bites her cheek, drawing blood. She screams as she elbows him in the stomach. She’s terrified but doesn’t give up and keeps going, wiping blood off her face with her sleeve while still holding on tightly to her bag.

(And is that music playing in the background? Violins, maybe? Where could it come from? And how comes it’s so perfectly timed with her movements?)

When she sees a shadow right behind her she tries to go even faster, but her body, instead, steadily slows down to a halt. No matter how much she tries, her limbs seem to be completely stuck. The shadow stalks closer, puts a hand on her shoulder. She’s not even breathing, eyes closed, shaking. That’s when she hears a weird noise and finally notices she’s had a spring right between her shoulder blades all this time, just like a wind-up toy. The mysterious person behind her turns it a few times, then just says, “Go.”

It’s a man. She starts running again, but when she turns around to see who this mysterious boy who saved her is, he’s gone.

As the sun rises, the monsters around her begin to disappear. When she finally finds herself alone, she drops to her knees, trying to catch her breath, willing her heart not to explode. A group of faceless girls walks by, they help her stand up, one of them pats her on the head, another hugs her. She’s safe. She starts walking with them, right in the centre of the group, and when none of them is looking she opens the paper bag.

There is nothing inside, safe for a little hairpin with a red heart on it. She closes her fingers around it, running her thumb along the edge of the little heart.

dream

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