A Story Within A Story

-----------chapter one; this can't be real

Sweat clung to her skin when she awoke that morning, and her heart rattled in her chest as she quickly sat up in her bed. The dream seemed to real, though she had a hard time recalling what specifics. She just knew that she felt incredibly warm right then, so she decided to toss her blanket off of her and to the side. She swung her legs over the side of her mattress, but didn't get up just yet.

It was like she had woken up from a nightmare, but she knew that what she had just dreamt was indeed not a nightmare. If anything, it made her feel weak in the knees, and she soon found herself to be trembling a slight bit.

Angora did not get a chance to ponder on the reality of it all, for just down the wall she heard her parent's bedroom door open with a squeak, and, with drowsy eyes, she peered at the window. It must have been close to 9:00, she realized, and that realization made her jump from the bed as if it was burning itself.

“Oh God, oh God,” she thoughtlessly mumbled to herself while she flitted across her perfectly organized room. “I'm gonna be so late,” mumbled she once more before pulling off her pajamas and putting on a professional attire – well, more professional than her pajamas, that was for sure.

The realization that she might be late made her rush to get her pants pulled on and buttoned, and then get her shirt on, and last, but not least, her boots. All this took a little over a few minutes, but in no time, she already had her bag hanging loosely from her shoulder and her hair put up into a low bun.

“Alright, I got this … and this ..” again, she mumbled to herself. She could picture a checklist in her head, and she was quickly looking through her bag, while it was still hanging off her shoulder, and checking off the things she did have off the list.

It only took one more look over of her room before she turned around and exited the room, briskly walking down the hall and into the kitchen where she spotted her mother pouring herself a cup of coffee.

“Morning, honey,” said Mrs Hawthorne in quite the chirpy tone.

Angora spared a quick and fleeting glance in the direction of her mom, but otherwise looked away and responded with a quick hello before making herself a bowl of cereal. Instead of sitting down like she usually would on most mornings, she leaned against the counter top and chewed at her cereal anxiously.

She hated being late, and upon knowing she would most likely miss her Creative Writing class, it was unfortunate to say that she was freaking out. And to think she would be in a chipper mood like her mother was in if it wasn't for her sleeping in late.

“Whoa take a chill pill, you're going to choke,” said Mrs Hawthorne who had been quietly sipping at her coffee just a few seconds ago. Now she was looking at her daughter with an arched brow and a slight frown.

There was a hint of a frown on Angora's face as she continued chewing the bit that was in her mouth, and she looked away from her mom who went back to sipping at her coffee.

After looking at the clock once more time, Angora rinsed her bowl out, which was still half full, then set it in the sink.

“Alright, I got some breakfast in me, can we go now? I'm going to be late,” said she while she wandered to the back door where she was currently pulling on her snow boots.

“Of course, just let me go to the bathroom first.”

The worry creases in the girl's face somewhat increased as she watched her mom go into the hall, and then she heard the bathroom door shut. And with a heavy sigh, she crossed her arms in a rather impatient manner.

This was what irritated her about her family; they always made sure they were always late on getting somewhere, and they didn't seem to care. And Angora briefly wondered for a few seconds why she had to be the one that would freak out and have a panic attack if she didn't get to her desired place before the designated time. She blamed it on her grandmother, who she shared the trait with.

I bet she would never be late to an occasion, she found herself thinking bitterly while she waited for her mom to get out of the bathroom.

Once the bathroom doorknob was heard being jiggled, and the door finally opened, she sighed, this time out of relief, once more before spotting her mother. She was wearing her hair up now, whereas she had it down just moments before.

“It took you that long to put your hair up?” questioned Angora with a disbelieving expression upon her face. She quirked an eyebrow as she awaited for her mom to answer her.

“Oh shush, let's go,” replied her mom with a somewhat impatient expression. She always hated being hurried, especially if the hurrying was being done by her eighteen year old daughter.

However, Angora didn't mind whatsoever what type of mood her mom was in, for they were out the door and hurrying to the car in just a second or two.

Unfortunately, it became fairly uncomfortable in the car after only being on the road for some odd minutes. And Angora was going to say something, only to ease the mood between her mom, but she stopped herself when a very familiar feeling came over her. She was suddenly reminded of the feeling of silence, and how it had affected her in last night's dream. Of course, it would be silly to mention her dream to her mom, and she didn't seem to recall much of it anyway, but that ill feeling of deja vu still clung to her, and she found herself become more uncomfortable than she was before.

While she was experiencing this deja vu sensation, her mom got onto the highway which lead to the school Angora had been attending for not even half a year. And the girl didn't even notice when her mom pulled into the Glendale Community College parking lot and stalled the car exactly in front of the college's entrance.

“Oh, we're here ..” came Angora's breathless voice in the passenger seat. Though that feeling still clung to her like a heavy blanket of fog, she was able to unbuckle herself and bid her mom goodbye.

“So, I might be a little late since I have this debate class I have to go to-” she opened the door and stepped out of the car, “- I'll call you when it's over.”

“Alright, I love you,” said Mrs Hawthorne with a pleasant smile. She was apparently over whatever upset her that morning.

“Love you too, Mom,” replied Angora who just had enough time to get that last part in before she opened a door and disappeared into the building.

There weren't many people in the halls considering Angora was about twenty or so minutes late, and she felt the pressure of being a late student as she quickly walked around the corner and then down that hall towards her Creative Writing class room. The only sound in the hall were her snow boots which were echoing in the open space. She could also hear her heartbeat ring faintly in her ears.

She was able to get halfway down the hall when she stopped suddenly in her tracks, her forehead wrinkling as she furrowed her eyebrows.

At some point during her hasty walk, she had noticed the clock on a wall, and when she got close enough to said clock (as she was passing by), she noticed that it was thirty minutes into the forty-five minutes class, and she figured she would just make a fool of herself if she walked in right at the end of the lesson, which would humiliate her to a certain degree.

And so, she found herself stock still in the middle of a hall with her hands clutched around her bag strap.

It was pointless to go to that Creative Writing class now, and so, she found herself venturing down the hall, her anxiety level about to a six (she thought this in her head as she made her way to the bathrooms). Upon knowing that it wasn't all that smart to go into the bathrooms alone, or at all for that matter, so she was hesitant when opening the door. But when she realized that not a soul was in there, she grew more comfortable and set her bag down.

Angora's heartbeat was strong in her ears at that time, and she could feel her eyes sting with moisture. She didn't want to cry, but when she got upset, the tears tended to react on their own. However, before the tears could actually make an appearance, Angora jumped, immediately clutching her hand to her chest.

There was something in one of the stalls, and it sounded like a banging of sorts, as if someone was hitting the door, or sides, of the stall.

Now, Angora wasn't brave, or at least she did not think herself to be that way, but she was a curious young adult, therefore it only made sense to her to walk towards the stall that had made the noise. And some would have deemed her as an idiot when they found out what she did next.

Closing her eyes tightly, she got the courage within her to push open the stall door sharply. She hadn't enough courage though to re-open her eyes and find out what had caused such a noise in the start, but when some kind of floral (maybe blossoms?) smell reached her nose and tangled itself in her hair, she dared to open her eyes just a crack. She ended up opening them all the way when warm air and green grass met her sight.

And she could faintly recall the boy in her dream the night before saying, ”Your time is to come, dear one.”