Status: Paused Until Further Notice :)
Little Black Dress
; the Ninth
I know it is a dream because everything is blurry. I can feel the hot concrete under my feet, but I can't see the ground. I can stretch my arm out in front of me, but I can't see my hand. I can feel the warm wind whipping my hair behind my shoulders, but I can't see my surroundings. I can smell McDonald's and Gloria Jeans, hear cars on the free way, but I can't see any of it.
And then suddenly there's a face in front of me, close enough that I can see every fine detail, even through the fog. A curved nose, high cheekbones, and a large, pouty mouth. A few chickenpox scars nestling above the thick eyebrows. Black hair, falling in oily strands over a dark forehead and into giant, round green eyes.
“Nacho,” I gasp, my hand flying to my throat. “God, you scared me!”
“I'm involved now. You have to let me help you. You have to let me keep you safe!” His voice is deep and laced in that rich accent. That voice is the only thing I can concentrate on. The words register in my mind, but they don't mean anything.
I chuckle. “I am safe.” I take a step towards him, so close that our breath mingles. Strange, his tastes like fear.
“No, you're not. Please listen to me, Mira!” He grasps my shoulders, and I tremble at his proximity.
“But I am. That's why you don't understand. I'm with my family.”
“That doesn't mean anything! They're in danger, too!”
I shrug off his hands, hot and dry against my tee-shirt covered skin. I tilt my head to the side, considering. “If I say we're in trouble, will you come back?”
“Of course!”
I smile and place my hand on his chest, spreading my fingers. And suddenly, I can see through the fog. There's no McDonald's or Gloria Jeans. There's no cars or free way or anything. We're on an open, empty cliff, and the ocean crashes heavily below us. I meet Nacho's bright eyes. “Then we're in trouble.”
And I push him, watching him stumble, eyes wide in surprise. He tilts backwards, arms cartwheeling around him. Then he falls.
And then suddenly there's a face in front of me, close enough that I can see every fine detail, even through the fog. A curved nose, high cheekbones, and a large, pouty mouth. A few chickenpox scars nestling above the thick eyebrows. Black hair, falling in oily strands over a dark forehead and into giant, round green eyes.
“Nacho,” I gasp, my hand flying to my throat. “God, you scared me!”
“I'm involved now. You have to let me help you. You have to let me keep you safe!” His voice is deep and laced in that rich accent. That voice is the only thing I can concentrate on. The words register in my mind, but they don't mean anything.
I chuckle. “I am safe.” I take a step towards him, so close that our breath mingles. Strange, his tastes like fear.
“No, you're not. Please listen to me, Mira!” He grasps my shoulders, and I tremble at his proximity.
“But I am. That's why you don't understand. I'm with my family.”
“That doesn't mean anything! They're in danger, too!”
I shrug off his hands, hot and dry against my tee-shirt covered skin. I tilt my head to the side, considering. “If I say we're in trouble, will you come back?”
“Of course!”
I smile and place my hand on his chest, spreading my fingers. And suddenly, I can see through the fog. There's no McDonald's or Gloria Jeans. There's no cars or free way or anything. We're on an open, empty cliff, and the ocean crashes heavily below us. I meet Nacho's bright eyes. “Then we're in trouble.”
And I push him, watching him stumble, eyes wide in surprise. He tilts backwards, arms cartwheeling around him. Then he falls.
♠ ♠ ♠
Gah. I was going to continue with how Mira woke up, but decided against it. That shall be in the next chapter, of course.