+Phobia_Parade+ (phobia_parade) wrote,

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Story from 8th grade.

Yup. Another late night.
I was flipping threw some old journals I had kept during 8th grade and stumbled across this little number.
I thought it was good enough to type up, so I went ahead and did.
Warning to anyone about to read this: There are spelling + punctuational errors abound. This has not been spell checked, and I have no semblence of proper grammer.
Yeah. Hope you like.
I'd put it under an LJ cut but...honestly, who really reads this thing?


I awoke in a cold sweat.
Molten beads dripping down my face and chest.
I could feel their hot, salty aftermath even with my eyes screwed tightly shut.
I sat up slowly, slightly disoriented; pictures of my nightmare still eating away at my memory. Distorted images. A gallery of nonsense that scared me half to death.
I wiped my damp forehead, noticing for the first time how terribly hot it was. My face was drenched in sweat and tears. My eyes stung, And I wiped them vigorously with my sleeve.
Glancing around my small room, the once horrifying darkness began dissolving into choice items; A desk, I noted. A chair, a vase with flowers- Ah! My eyes fell upon the most captivating item the room had to offer.
A grand window, stretching from the wooden floor boards to the ceiling, met my gaze beyond the bed's end. Just outside it's pane stood a ladder which climbed the entire length of the house, scaling the brick walls and stopping at the roof. And beyond that still, hung the moon. Extravagant and swollen with light, it's beauty held my breath captive for a pregnant moment. It appeared from my angle that with the placement of the window's edge the moon had become trapped in it's center. I shook my head at this, a smile tugging on my lips, Wouldn't she be amused to hear my midnight rambling?

I stopped then and studied the fabric of my sheets for a moment as a thought struck me. A closer inspection of the window confirmed it. She climbed out again. I sighed childishly and tossed my feet over the side of the bed. I only have nightmares when she climbs out.
The window was ajar, allowing hot, sticky air to fill the room. I stood, teetering slightly on my still trembling legs, and made my way over to the window's frame. Widening the space a bit I swung my body out onto the ladder, and took a moment to regard the extraordinary moon. A sudden wind picked up allowing some leaves to take flight. They passed over the moon's face and gave the view a dreamlike quality. I turned myself back towards the rungs of the ladder. I never liked things I couldn't touch.
Slowly I began to climb the ladder's rickety length, the heat making the sap in the wood stick to my hands and clothes. I made a metal note to wash my pajamas.
When I reached the ladder's end the moon seems so vast in the sky that I suspect it would have devoured the earth had the stars ever let it go.
Silently I skimmed the length of the roof until finally my eyes came to rest on the figure I was seeking. She was sitting, silhouetted directly in front of the moon. Her hair, usually bright by day, appeared black in the shadows. It swept around her face like silken bats. The light from the pregnant moon contrasted sharply with her frame, making her seem small and much too thin. With delicate steps I made my way over to where she sat and quietly perched next to her. The moon looked close enough to touch.
Her face was calm and serene, but her eyes were anxious and hard.
I wondered if she knew how beautiful she looked.

"You know", she said suddenly, "They say if you jump far enough you can land right in the sky, right among the stars and planets." She turned and smiled at me then.

"Did you have a nightmare?"

"What?" I asked, snapping out of my reverie, "Oh, yeah."

"What was it about?"

I glanced down at her pale hands, long and smooth her fingers seemed like soft spiders in the darkness.

"I don't really remember"

Oh." She said quietly, lifting a soft hand to twirl in her hair.

A calm silence fell between us then. The moon seemed to hover closer.

"I'm not a very good jumper."

"I wouldn't let you fall."

I glanced over at her in time to see her lips quirk upwards in a small smile.

"Don't worry", She whispered then, “I'm good at flying.”
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