Once Upon a Not-So-Dreary Dream
A lonely purple shadow loomed above her, cackling with glee. Maria breathed deeply, her feet pounding against the ground, grass whipping her legs like firecrackers. She could feel his evil eyes watching her, or at least the gaping darkness hollow where she assumed his eyes might be. The girl’s breathe came out in short rasps. Any on looker would be amazed at the maturity reflected in the child’s eyes. She couldn’t be more than five, but she’d never felt so old. It was as if the Shadow was sucking the energy right out of her body.
Panting Maria sat straight up in her bed, her boyish hair askew from a sleepless dream. Yawning, Maria found herself wondering why she had had such a dream. Usually when she dreamed of that place, it was a lot nicer. She hadn’t had a dream that awful since she was five.
Maria Malone was a lonely girl, aged sixteen. She had short, choppy blonde hair that was perpetually tomboy, no matter how she tried to adorn it. Her happy blue eyes were certainly her best feature, little to her knowledge. See, people didn’t compliment Maria, so she didn’t think much of herself, but she was rather pretty in a common, everyday sort of way.
Things weren’t always the best for Maria, but she saw the world through rose-colored glasses and had an imagination capable of beating out all her demons—inner and external. Her mother was always there for her—physically at least. However, her mother, once a beautiful and wonderful woman, was battling yet another bout of depression—and losing. Her father, unable to watch the woman he had fallen in love with change, had left both Maria and her mother, Sandra, to lean on each other. Maria had no younger siblings, her mother never finding another man she could love like she had always loved—deep down, somewhere—Maria’s father.
Maria didn’t mind too much. Sure, she felt bad for her mother, but things had always been like this—off and on. It was something she had grown accustomed to over the years. She knew, someday, her father would come back, if her mother ever got over her depression. Then, the two would ignore her still, too wrapped up in each other. Of course, the worst part came after the ‘honeymoon stage’. Her parents inevitably would get in a fight that would send Sandra spiraling back into depression and her father straight out the door. The honeymoon stage usually lasted about three weeks. Of course, the last honeymoon stage Maria remembered was over six years ago. She was beginning to doubt he’d ever come back, and, strangely, she didn’t miss him.
Sighing, Maria ran her fingers through her tousled hair, and looked at her closet. Staring at it really hard, she waited patiently, trying to summon a friend—someone to talk to about the dream. Soon, she saw the door creak slowly open and a flash of purple light lit the cracks around the door. The door opened and a tall, lanky woman with piercing purple eyes stepped out. The woman wore a short leather skirt and a white billow shirt. The sleeves went down to her elbows, puffing out slightly. A thin strip of leather was tied under her breasts, and the material flowed out of it. Tied around her leg was a leather sheath, a dagger hidden inside it. She wore brown boots that stopped about two inches below her knees. It was her common dress, the kind she used for traveling. Blazing red hair fell around the woman’s shoulders like a burning bush, and a golden circlet adorned the top of her head, an amethyst dangling against her forehead.
“Mi Lady,” said the enchanting woman, falling to her knees gracefully like a leaf.
“Machira,” enthused Maria, motioning for the woman to stand. She did so.
“I apologize that it took so long for me to get here. I was in the middle of a small encounter with a band of bandits. The Queendom’s hold on the land is dwindling and we are having trouble keeping the Shadows from our souls.”
Maria nodded sadly. She had figured as much. Lately, she was having too many nightmares for it to be a coincidence. The Shadows of her dreaming were most probably leaking into her Dreamworlde. Which, really, made sense. After all, if Maria could dream her Dream characters, why wouldn’t her nightmares transfer as well?
“I had feared the Shadows were taking over my Dreams…” sighed Maria, “How does the Queendom fare?”
This was an old game of Maria’s. She knew—though she wasn’t always sure—that Machira was just a figment of her imagination—her very overactive imagination. She had begun with the Dreamworlde—something she had been dreaming of since she was five. The five-year-old Maria had realized that there was no better way to escape an unwanted reality was to create her own reality. So, she had. She had slowly shaped together her little imaginary world like clay in a potter’s hands. Slowly, the small little dream had become so much more, and Maria filled it with friends such as Machira, colors beyond anything on earth, music untainted by lust, true hearts, scents fit for Queen’s, and enchantment. Everything in her Dreamworlde was so plucked straight from Maria’s sweet, sweet heart.
“The Queendom is filled with Shadows. The castle is untouched, for now, Milady. The Goddess Strength keeps Shadows at bay. Our True Hearts are trying to keep the Red Hearts from overtaking the Queendom, but are forces are dwindling. It seems that the Shadows are taking more and more Hearts with each passing day, and it is becoming harder and harder to find a True Heart,” said Machira, a True Heart herself. The True Hearts were the like the warriors of the Queendom. However, fighting was not much in their style. True Hearts couldn’t take a life—not without harm to their own Hearts. With each kill a True Heart delivered they became more and more susceptible to the Shadows. When a True Heart became a Red Heart, it was a horrible thing.
Maria appeared to think about the information Machira had presented her. It was really nothing all that new; Machira knew just about everything that went on in her Dreamworlde, but, lately, she was exercising less and less control over it. Not that she wasn’t trying. It was a horrid thing when recluse became disaster, but, it seemed, her dreams would not respond to her the way they once had. An awful thought occurred to Maria at that moment.
“Have I lost my imagination?” she asked incredulously, and flung her arms in the air. Maria collapsed on the bed, rumpling the sheets further. The possibility stung Maria. Machira glanced at her with knowing purple eyes. Coming to sit beside Maria, Machira put a motherly arm around her.
“There are some things you should know, my sweet lady.” Whispered Machira ominously. A sad smile spread itself across Machira’s ovular face, and Maria glanced up at her, puzzled. Tucking her fiery hair behind her elfish ears, Machira sighed and said, “I have been struggling against the other True Hearts with this knowledge for years, ever since you first stumbled upon our world. I wanted to protect you, you see, but the others—particularly Jethro believed you had the right to know. Now, I see, I should’ve listened.”
Maria started at the name Jethro. She hadn’t thought of him in so long. He was one of the nobler True Hearts. Along with Machira, they commanded the rest of the True Hearts. She also knew that Jethro was of a strong disposition, unwarranted temper, and obstinate ideas. Of course, he was also kind and gentle in his own way. Out of all the True Hearts, Maria warranted he’d be the least affected by the War of the Hearts. Exhaling, Maria wondered where Machira was going with this. After all, she knew just about everything there was to know about the Dreamworlde—when she called it to mind.
“Dear, dear, dear Milady,” cooed Machira, fiddling with one of Maria’s golden locks,”The truth of the matter is, thus, our world was a world before you dreamed it. It was your world. It is your world, Goddess Milady.”
Machira prounounced Milady as one word and it sounded like melody. Furrowing her brow, Maria wondered at this. It took her a few seconds and she recalled more information on the Goddess that Machira often spoke of—never by name. Goddess Milady, the creator of the True Hearts. Not truly a goddess, not by earth standards, because she lived and died. Her greatest power was her power to Dream. Hence, the Dreamworlde. But, Goddess Milady’s dreams were not mere dreams, but a way into other worlds, usually ones she knew well. With her transportation to worlds, came the power to Influence. She could change certain things in the world, just by thinking them—but her powers often lessened as she grew older.
(not done) |
Submission Name: untitled
