Torn Fragility

"all men dream: but not equally,
those who dream by night
in the dusty recesses of their minds
wake in the day to find that it was vanity
but
the dreamers of the day are dangerous men,
for they may act their dreams with open eyes,
to make it possible"
t.e. lawrence - seven pillars of wisdom

When I struggled awake from a mind numbing nightmare I bolted up, my heart thudding and my eyes darting around wildly trying to assess if I was still in the dream’s clutches.

I wasn’t, but awaking in another dream is just as bad.

But the grass was crisp beneath my fingertips and the sky painted a hue of creamy pink. I was lying on a bed of strange flowers that sprang up lightly as soon as I rolled off it onto the grass alongside. Everything seemed unearthly sharp in detail and smell and touch...I felt overwhelmed and jumped up, spinning around in a circle as I did so to get a quick view of my surroundings.

Where was the house? Were my eyes deceiving me? Was this really just a dream after all? But no, there was no house. Only a quiet meadow dotted with patches of those strange spongy flowers. I began to walk, and then to jog.

I finally broke into a run, dashing through the long grass, my breath coming out in ragged gasps, and then I stopped. The meadow had ended and I saw that I was near the top of a low hill and below me lay the comforting sight of a suburb. I saw the big sprawling houses, and the expensive cars that cruised through the streets. And nearly out of sight there was the house. Smith’s house.

Memories came flooding back, rushing in through the barely perceptible gap that had been breached in my mind. With memory came pain and shock and I fell back onto the grass moaning in pain. My back was on fire, needles shooting deeply into my neck, and when I tried to stand my right leg wouldn’t move. I cried out when I realised it was broken; it was sitting at an odd angle and I felt as if I would once again succumb to the warm dark realm of my unconscious.

Tears streaming down my face I tried to stand up, or at least sit up straight but as I did so my vision became blurred and splotched and I was breathing heavily when I lay back down. I couldn’t tolerate pain well, I never could and this was the worst pain I had ever been in.

But I had to find help albeit it far from reach in my current location and state. But I couldn’t move. Nothing mattered besides the pain.
“Don’t think of him anymore,” a voice issued from behind me, smug and cruel.

“He’s the last...thing on my mind believe...me,” I hissed out, wincing as I twisted my neck to look who had spoken, but I had the feeling I already knew.

There was no one there but the voice had been unmistakeable: that of the woman I had heard last night.

“How... did I come here?” I managed to say as my effort to move had cost me.

“Childish...Hmmm...but it suits my needs, it’ll have to do and then I’ll see what I can do with you. If you even try to go back I’ll break that leg so many times that you’ll never be able to walk again. Bye now.”

I had nothing to say to that and without knowing how I knew she had gone whatever she had been.

“Evil...Hag,” I sputtered out as a pained smile crept onto my face and the pain became too much. A cool hand appeared from nowhere and smoothed my sweat drenched hair from my eyes. It was a woman’s touch, a mother’s light caress and I thought dimly of my parents, wondering why they hadn’t called since my arrival. I wonder if they’ll miss me...

“Do you know what a snow globe is Rose?” asked someone, close to my ear.

I closed my eyes and gave a light hearted chuckle, no longer wondering at the strangeness of my situation. “That’s a funny thing to ask...right before someone...dies...”

And then the caress drifted to the small of my back and pain exploded into my vision.



It may have been days later, I wasn’t sure anymore, maybe weeks when I placed my palm upon the smooth cold surface of my transparent prison for the thousandth time.

“Don’t do that Rose; she’ll notice,” my keeper’s voice said from behind me. I turned around and beheld the sight of the ethereal woman behind me, with a snow white skin, snow white hair and a snow white dress. She had not given me her name but I called her Snow White for obvious reasons.

I shrugged and turned back towards the glass dome. Yes, I knew what a snow globe was. I knew that if you picked it up little white flakes would drift around inside obscuring the view. Obscuring the view of a small meadow and two lone figures, one white and one like a dirty smudge that had obtained entrance by chance.

She had, as yet, not explained anything to me and I had gathered over time (days? Weeks?) that I was to be trapped here for as long as possible and the only relief from my tedious days were watching the valley, stretched out below me, go on with life as if nothing had ever happened. Cars could be seen, dimly, pulling out of driveways, children playing in the streets, life going on as if I had never existed. Maybe to these people I never had, but what about my parents? Why hadn't they come looking for me? Why didn't a curious child notice the suspicious wink of glass lying amongst the meadow grass, and pick it up? See me?

But I realised that this was probably part of the illusion or spell I had been placed under. I didn't find it surprising at all that there were things like magic and evil hags.

And it disturbed me that I was so calm.