Dreams Flames Destroy
Fountain
A red fire roars with the sound of a suspense movie, where a ghost suddenly appears, its black hair covering pale skin of a wrangled face. Its flames shoot up, sending ashes flying in random directions, its smell crinkling the noses of passersby. Nobody knows why its there. Neighborly people go about their day, chat among friends and family, shop at the grocery store-their bags full of vegetables and meat-without noticing the flames inching toward them as they go along.
"Do you ever wonder, Daisy, about what you wish to be in the future?" asks a handsome boy to a young, pretty girl wearing a pink dress and bows in her curly hair.
"Yes, I do." she says, flicking a penny in a fountain they sit in front of. "I know exactly what my dream is, if that's what you're asking me." she smiles, looks up at the night sky. "I want to be a scientist."
"A scientist?" the boy exclaims, then shakes his head. "That's not what I meant. I do not care about what you want your job to be."
The fountain roars louder now as falling water patters down toward the bottom.
"Then what did you mean?" Daisy asks, puzzled.
The boy sighs. "Let me start with this. Close your eyes. Imagine the place you most want to be at this moment."
Daisy does everything he tells her to, trying very hard to think of the right place. When she finally does, she smiles and says, "It's a lake. In Zimbabwe. I've been there before, about six years ago." She pauses, looks wistfully at the boy. "You were there, too."
The boy puts his head back. A star above twinkles with brilliance. "I remember. We were both sixteen- young and crazy- and you had the flute which you always carried around, playing for me as we would sit near the water." The boy laughs. "Then Aaron scared you from behind, and you dropped your flute in the lake."
Daisy laughs too, like wind chimes hitting each other on a windy day. "How did your little brother carry around all that energy with him?" she wonders. "Anyway, then I remember you reluctantly pulling the flute out from the freezing liquid and handing it to me all wet and sloshy. My instrument never sounded the same again."
The boy looks at Daisy, whose golden eyes remain on that beautiful lake somewhere far away in the distant past.
"Do you ever dream about going back?" He whispers softly.
Daisy's eyes flash open.
"How did you know?"
The boy shrugs, his brown hair gets sprayed with drips of water that the kids splash from the fountain. He attempts to shake it off.
"I can see it in your eyes," he says, "and from the way you always trail off into some
dreamland everytime I mention it," he adds, amused.
Daisy flushes, embarrassed. "Oh. Well, it's true. The lake in that place in Zimbabwe has always been what I've dreamt about."
"Then let's go back!" the boy says, almost shouting. His eyes glow with excitement as he waits for a response.
Daisy laughs, unsure.
"Come on," he insists. "Why not?"
Daisy shuffles through her leather purse, takes another penny out and tosses it into the fountain.
"Isn't it rather..." she hesitates, trying to find the right word. "Rather foolish? Returning to your past just because there's no other place to go, no place where you would want to go?" she looks at the boy, her eyes dull.
"I don't think so."
Crickets chirp in the lonely night. The kids are now gone.
The boy sighs, then says, "Perhaps we have a past, following us until the day we die, so that we can have different options. And so we can look and observe the things we've done wrong, so that we can try and make things right. The past also seems like the main part of who we are, and what our journey has been like along the way. Each of our pasts are unique; they're chapters that have been written, and we are allowed to go back. Someone might encounter their dream in chapter five, then travel along the way to chapter eleven, until they realize they want to return to chapter five. Because you can be reunited with your dreams."
Daisy purses her lips, seemingly quiet. She wonders about what the boy has just told her.
"Please, Daisy?"
She gazes into the chocolate depths of his gleaming eyes. Her blonde hair blows in the wind, sends chills down her spine. After a while, she speaks.
"Alright. We will go back."
The boy's grin seems to reach his ears. "Thanks. I've never told you before, but this is what I've been dreaming of for years; returning to chapter sixteen."
The fountain ripples on as they smile at each other; the boy picks up Daisy's pale hand and kisses it softly. Looking around, they realize the only people there now are them, and slowly, Daisy and the boy walk off into the darkness-the raging flames of the red fire not far behind.
"Do you ever wonder, Daisy, about what you wish to be in the future?" asks a handsome boy to a young, pretty girl wearing a pink dress and bows in her curly hair.
"Yes, I do." she says, flicking a penny in a fountain they sit in front of. "I know exactly what my dream is, if that's what you're asking me." she smiles, looks up at the night sky. "I want to be a scientist."
"A scientist?" the boy exclaims, then shakes his head. "That's not what I meant. I do not care about what you want your job to be."
The fountain roars louder now as falling water patters down toward the bottom.
"Then what did you mean?" Daisy asks, puzzled.
The boy sighs. "Let me start with this. Close your eyes. Imagine the place you most want to be at this moment."
Daisy does everything he tells her to, trying very hard to think of the right place. When she finally does, she smiles and says, "It's a lake. In Zimbabwe. I've been there before, about six years ago." She pauses, looks wistfully at the boy. "You were there, too."
The boy puts his head back. A star above twinkles with brilliance. "I remember. We were both sixteen- young and crazy- and you had the flute which you always carried around, playing for me as we would sit near the water." The boy laughs. "Then Aaron scared you from behind, and you dropped your flute in the lake."
Daisy laughs too, like wind chimes hitting each other on a windy day. "How did your little brother carry around all that energy with him?" she wonders. "Anyway, then I remember you reluctantly pulling the flute out from the freezing liquid and handing it to me all wet and sloshy. My instrument never sounded the same again."
The boy looks at Daisy, whose golden eyes remain on that beautiful lake somewhere far away in the distant past.
"Do you ever dream about going back?" He whispers softly.
Daisy's eyes flash open.
"How did you know?"
The boy shrugs, his brown hair gets sprayed with drips of water that the kids splash from the fountain. He attempts to shake it off.
"I can see it in your eyes," he says, "and from the way you always trail off into some
dreamland everytime I mention it," he adds, amused.
Daisy flushes, embarrassed. "Oh. Well, it's true. The lake in that place in Zimbabwe has always been what I've dreamt about."
"Then let's go back!" the boy says, almost shouting. His eyes glow with excitement as he waits for a response.
Daisy laughs, unsure.
"Come on," he insists. "Why not?"
Daisy shuffles through her leather purse, takes another penny out and tosses it into the fountain.
"Isn't it rather..." she hesitates, trying to find the right word. "Rather foolish? Returning to your past just because there's no other place to go, no place where you would want to go?" she looks at the boy, her eyes dull.
"I don't think so."
Crickets chirp in the lonely night. The kids are now gone.
The boy sighs, then says, "Perhaps we have a past, following us until the day we die, so that we can have different options. And so we can look and observe the things we've done wrong, so that we can try and make things right. The past also seems like the main part of who we are, and what our journey has been like along the way. Each of our pasts are unique; they're chapters that have been written, and we are allowed to go back. Someone might encounter their dream in chapter five, then travel along the way to chapter eleven, until they realize they want to return to chapter five. Because you can be reunited with your dreams."
Daisy purses her lips, seemingly quiet. She wonders about what the boy has just told her.
"Please, Daisy?"
She gazes into the chocolate depths of his gleaming eyes. Her blonde hair blows in the wind, sends chills down her spine. After a while, she speaks.
"Alright. We will go back."
The boy's grin seems to reach his ears. "Thanks. I've never told you before, but this is what I've been dreaming of for years; returning to chapter sixteen."
The fountain ripples on as they smile at each other; the boy picks up Daisy's pale hand and kisses it softly. Looking around, they realize the only people there now are them, and slowly, Daisy and the boy walk off into the darkness-the raging flames of the red fire not far behind.