Status: Still in progress (stopped writing it but may continue)
Dreamer
Prologue
She had been a dreamer once, ribbon ponytails of fluorescent blonde, eyes the color of a mermaid's thoughts, and the childish smile that brought joy to an entire congregation. Now, though, she was a doer.
She would dream of them every night, feathered serpents, scaly beasts, winged mysteries. She would float with them, in the clouds, in a state in between reality and lucidity. Their crimson breath would never burn her, their lustrous talons never cut her. They were in unity, a rainbow, iridescent unity.
When she woke up, the raindrops on her face were now tears. They were sticky and warm, and they ran onto her lip. She would catch them with her tongue, eating her loneliness. Afterwords, she would roll over in her bed, noting the time, and fall back asleep, the sun shining, setting one more time.
They would sing to her, foreign melodies with lyrics that she saw in her mind, lakes, rainbows, moonlight. After she woke from those dreams, she would write the words down, still half asleep, and hoping the tunes would stay. Oftentimes, she would return to her notebook to find a language she no longer knew. Her royal blue hair would fall onto the pages like a waterfall.
She would dream of them every night, feathered serpents, scaly beasts, winged mysteries. She would float with them, in the clouds, in a state in between reality and lucidity. Their crimson breath would never burn her, their lustrous talons never cut her. They were in unity, a rainbow, iridescent unity.
When she woke up, the raindrops on her face were now tears. They were sticky and warm, and they ran onto her lip. She would catch them with her tongue, eating her loneliness. Afterwords, she would roll over in her bed, noting the time, and fall back asleep, the sun shining, setting one more time.
They would sing to her, foreign melodies with lyrics that she saw in her mind, lakes, rainbows, moonlight. After she woke from those dreams, she would write the words down, still half asleep, and hoping the tunes would stay. Oftentimes, she would return to her notebook to find a language she no longer knew. Her royal blue hair would fall onto the pages like a waterfall.