Post by SKYE MILLIGAN on Nov 27, 2011 20:52:33 GMT -5
There was something chasing her. Nightmare, memory, enemy or friend, it was big and it was after her. All around her there were trees but their leaves weren't leaves: razor-blades sprouted from the trunks, blood oozing from beneath. Instead of earth, bare skin lifted and fell under her bare feet, and every step brought explosions of purple and red. The screams of pain were drowned out by the howls of the beast. She didn't turn around but she knew it was there, she could hear it, the rumble of its every stride and the gnash of its tusk-like teeth. She felt it gaining. The skin lifted and fell, the ribs beneath tripping her and then the breath was hot on the back of her neck. Its fangs snapped closed through her chest.
It wasn't as if this nightmare was anything new. In the dim state between conciousness and dreaming, Skye stiffened and fought against waking. It was not a concious battle; just the same one she'd been fighting for approximately seven years without noticing. The dream was less ingrained, but still held in its iron grip every part of her that fought to return to sleep. Those monsters were her alarm clock, and it was time for the land of the living. Or dead, depending on your perspective.
A slow groan escaped the girl's throat. There was something digging into every part of her; every inch of her skin had been sandpapered down to the bone. Not to mention it was bright. Too bright. All she could do was roll onto her front (reopening a few cuts and filling them with sand) and press her face into the rock. Then the nightmare began to resurface-- the real nightmare this time.
Where was her mother?
Skye's eyes snapped open. Oh no, this couldn't be happening. Her gut told her, tying itself in knots, that her mother wasn't here. She was lost. Which was ridiculous. How could she be lost, how, if her mother had been with her? There was something else. How she'd gotten to lie on this beach was clearly something to do with this disappearance, this hole, this loss that was opening in her chest. 'I'm alone. Oh god, I'm alone.' Her mother would've washed her mouth out with soap for that. Her eyes were stinging. Must be the sand. She just needed perspective, surely. Mother wouldn't have left her, would she? No. They loved each other, mother and daughter: she felt that, too, in the twist of her stomach. There was some other reason, a logical one. Maybe if she just stayed here, kept her eyes closed, then Mother would find her. Staying where she was... that was an excellent proposition. Her muscles ached like she'd been swimming for hours. There was the taste of salt and seaweed in her mouth. She needed water. Maybe her mother would bring some, when she found her? No, no, that was ridiculous: Mother would want her to be upstanding. "Take the initiative, Skye", or maybe "how often have I told you that helplessness is unattractive?" And if she was to make her mother come, she had to be very attractive indeed. Attractive like a magnet, something that would draw her back. So. Clearly, lying on the beach was no longer an option: she needed to clean up and be fit for her mother's inevitable return.
'And if she doesn't return, hmm?' Well, then Skye would have to go look for her. It was that simple, surely. Until then...
Sitting up was the first battle. She noticed the small puddle of vomit and seawater that was evaporating beside her and her gag reflex kicked her in the gut. Her limbs were so shaky, for all the heat of the day, and she could feel the salt all over her skin. This was not safety. This was not home. But she had to get clean now, get this salt off her skin. She needed water-- that was the most important thing. Water that wasn't contaminated with blo-- Blood? Where had that thought come from? Stupid. It was more imporant to focus on the things she was pretty sure she could still do, for example crawling. Her arms were so shaky, though. Like jellyfish, like jelly, jellybeans, juice... she giggled, on her hands and knees. Silly Skye, didn't you know that jellyfish and jellybeans make an awful dessert? More appropriate to deep-fry the jellyfish, surely, for jellyfish and chips. The giggling surfaced again, louder, as on shaking arms and legs she made her way to a shaded part of the rock pools. 'Chips, or chocolate fish?' Good question, Skye! Maybe all that was needed was a sprinkling of chocolate chips over the jellyfish to give them that extra sweetness-- provided you could still taste after a succulent stinger or two. The giggling escalated. So, then, what made a good desert if not adding sweetness? What, in fact (apart from those stingers) was wrong with a jellyfish? Taste could only be a problem if you let it-- everything was an acquired taste at first. She'd been from McDonalds to haggis and back again, so maybe a jellyfish would just be a really sour form of jelly. Or had she decided it would be sweet. So many strands of thought to keep track of! Much easier just to sit here and feel the sun on her legs, sticking out from under the tiny, shaded overhang. Barefoot. Yet another thing of which her mother would not approve. But then again, Skye wasn't attractive yet, so how could her mother possibly find her? Exactly, stupid question. She had time. She had time to clean herself up. Until then...
From an outsider's perspective, two bare legs (each attached to a bare foot) shook and shimmied in time to the sea breezes, occasionally giggling to themselves, like schoolgirls sharing secrets. And who's to say that's not exactly what was going on?
notes; Well, that was much more vague and strange than I thought it would be. XD
words; 994!
tagged; The lovely Jenn and her Luke, as well as anyone interested XD
It wasn't as if this nightmare was anything new. In the dim state between conciousness and dreaming, Skye stiffened and fought against waking. It was not a concious battle; just the same one she'd been fighting for approximately seven years without noticing. The dream was less ingrained, but still held in its iron grip every part of her that fought to return to sleep. Those monsters were her alarm clock, and it was time for the land of the living. Or dead, depending on your perspective.
A slow groan escaped the girl's throat. There was something digging into every part of her; every inch of her skin had been sandpapered down to the bone. Not to mention it was bright. Too bright. All she could do was roll onto her front (reopening a few cuts and filling them with sand) and press her face into the rock. Then the nightmare began to resurface-- the real nightmare this time.
Where was her mother?
Skye's eyes snapped open. Oh no, this couldn't be happening. Her gut told her, tying itself in knots, that her mother wasn't here. She was lost. Which was ridiculous. How could she be lost, how, if her mother had been with her? There was something else. How she'd gotten to lie on this beach was clearly something to do with this disappearance, this hole, this loss that was opening in her chest. 'I'm alone. Oh god, I'm alone.' Her mother would've washed her mouth out with soap for that. Her eyes were stinging. Must be the sand. She just needed perspective, surely. Mother wouldn't have left her, would she? No. They loved each other, mother and daughter: she felt that, too, in the twist of her stomach. There was some other reason, a logical one. Maybe if she just stayed here, kept her eyes closed, then Mother would find her. Staying where she was... that was an excellent proposition. Her muscles ached like she'd been swimming for hours. There was the taste of salt and seaweed in her mouth. She needed water. Maybe her mother would bring some, when she found her? No, no, that was ridiculous: Mother would want her to be upstanding. "Take the initiative, Skye", or maybe "how often have I told you that helplessness is unattractive?" And if she was to make her mother come, she had to be very attractive indeed. Attractive like a magnet, something that would draw her back. So. Clearly, lying on the beach was no longer an option: she needed to clean up and be fit for her mother's inevitable return.
'And if she doesn't return, hmm?' Well, then Skye would have to go look for her. It was that simple, surely. Until then...
Sitting up was the first battle. She noticed the small puddle of vomit and seawater that was evaporating beside her and her gag reflex kicked her in the gut. Her limbs were so shaky, for all the heat of the day, and she could feel the salt all over her skin. This was not safety. This was not home. But she had to get clean now, get this salt off her skin. She needed water-- that was the most important thing. Water that wasn't contaminated with blo-- Blood? Where had that thought come from? Stupid. It was more imporant to focus on the things she was pretty sure she could still do, for example crawling. Her arms were so shaky, though. Like jellyfish, like jelly, jellybeans, juice... she giggled, on her hands and knees. Silly Skye, didn't you know that jellyfish and jellybeans make an awful dessert? More appropriate to deep-fry the jellyfish, surely, for jellyfish and chips. The giggling surfaced again, louder, as on shaking arms and legs she made her way to a shaded part of the rock pools. 'Chips, or chocolate fish?' Good question, Skye! Maybe all that was needed was a sprinkling of chocolate chips over the jellyfish to give them that extra sweetness-- provided you could still taste after a succulent stinger or two. The giggling escalated. So, then, what made a good desert if not adding sweetness? What, in fact (apart from those stingers) was wrong with a jellyfish? Taste could only be a problem if you let it-- everything was an acquired taste at first. She'd been from McDonalds to haggis and back again, so maybe a jellyfish would just be a really sour form of jelly. Or had she decided it would be sweet. So many strands of thought to keep track of! Much easier just to sit here and feel the sun on her legs, sticking out from under the tiny, shaded overhang. Barefoot. Yet another thing of which her mother would not approve. But then again, Skye wasn't attractive yet, so how could her mother possibly find her? Exactly, stupid question. She had time. She had time to clean herself up. Until then...
From an outsider's perspective, two bare legs (each attached to a bare foot) shook and shimmied in time to the sea breezes, occasionally giggling to themselves, like schoolgirls sharing secrets. And who's to say that's not exactly what was going on?
notes; Well, that was much more vague and strange than I thought it would be. XD
words; 994!
tagged; The lovely Jenn and her Luke, as well as anyone interested XD
