Post by Aurora on Oct 9, 2006 8:49:35 GMT -5
(ooc: I realize that the rest of Genosha isn't at nighttime yet. But I'm getting restless. lol)
Never had such peace touched the heart of a young woman as it did the girl who knelt in the cathedral to pray. Her head bowed, she spoke with God humbly at the foot of a magnificent replica of Jesus Christ as he hung on the cross. The warm glow of the many candles set on either side of the cross caused the straight black that hung around her face to shine.
As she lifted her face at the end of her prayer to meet Christ's ever-watchful eyes, she found that He was not there. Only the cross, looking ominously bare in it's nakedness, stood towering above her. And as she watched, it started to fall. It leaned toward her, slowly at first, and then began to fall with increasing speed, as she knelt frozen beneath it, unable to do anything but watch with fearful eyes.
The brass symbol of suffering fell upon her hand with a another strike of pain. She knew that a bone had snapped, felt it shift to a place it oughtn't be, and the pain of it was dizzying. She cried out, clenching her jaw as tightly as she could. Fresh tears fell down her cheeks as she prayed to God that this punishment would stop.
When it was all through, and God stayed their hands, she woke in darkness. She was in a space so small that as she slumped against one wall, her legs had to tuck beneath her to rest against the wall opposite. Her body was battered and bruised, and covered all over by an utter pain that screamed in each limb she moved. She was trapped, and had no will to be free. Many times had they broken her body, but finally, they had broken her spirit.
Then, without notice, all of the walls, and the floor, were gone. With nothing under her, she began to fall through the air. It was still dark, but there were stars. Her arms reached out as if to stop the ground meeting her as she seemed to move in slow-motion, but suddenly, the ground stopped getting closer. It was as if gravity was no longer pulling her down, and as she looked ahead, she knew with an exhilarating rush that she was free.
The little girl with long shining black hair was the happiest child in the world. The ice cream cone in her hand was the sweetest treat, and she was so excited over it that she had covered her face, her hands, and her shirt with the sticky chocolate.
A man in his thirties was on her left, and he watched his little girl savor her ice cream cone with a youthful smile on his face. As she looked up at her father with a messy grin, she felt a tiny hand tug on her sleeve.
With the undoubting knowledge that dreams can give to the dreamer, she knew who it was before she looked. When she did, she saw her brother pointing at his head and laughing. He'd smushed his cone upside-down on his head, and was laughing with glee as it slowly slid down the side of his silvery-black hair. Through the eyes of the little girl, the dreamer watched and laughed. The whole scene was fuzzy, falling in and out of focus, and as she looked over her brother's head, up, up, up, to her mother on his other side, they faded from view.
Everything remained hazy, but she could still feel. She felt warm fingers stroking her head gently, and by some sixth sense that infants have, she knew her mother's touch. She felt the warm little body beside her move, and out of instinct, clasped the tiny hand in her equally tiny fist.
Suddenly, she was in the air again. The hand was still clasped firmly in hers, and though she didn't look to her side, she knew that he was flying with her. It must have been day, for though she couldn't see the sun, everything was lit with a wonderful, dazzling light that danced and glowed on every surface.
In reality, it was the middle of the night. That same young woman, as she dreamed, stood at the edge of her bed as still as a statue. It was the middle of the night, and her restless sleep had caused her to arise.
But it was hard to keep her grip, and she felt the rest of her body dragging down as their hands slipped. They lost touch, and all at once, the magnificent light went out. The world was plunged into a darkness she had seen many times before.
As her gradual tilt forward finally overthrew her balance, and she pitched forward off the bed, she awoke with a start. Fresh from her dream, she was convinced for those first few waking moments that she was falling to her death. Her resistance was instinctive, as natural as the reaction to throw her hands in front of her face came the reaction to stop the fall.
She propelled herself through the air, so out of touch with reality and herself in her confusion that she rammed into the wall a foot from the ceiling. She turned, pressing her shoulder against it, and looked back at where she had just been with wide eyes. She laid a palm flat on the wall and pushed away from it to float in the middle of her room.
As relieved and triumphant as Aurora felt to have been returned to her rightful place in control of her body, she was still hesitant. She cocked her head, her eyes on the ceiling as she listened intently. Jeanne-Marie was not gone, she could sense her still there. But she no longer wanted to fight for the control. Aurora could feel a sense of worthlessness from Jeanne-Marie, and in her triumph, she didn't attempt to sympathize.
Aurora's laughter started deep in her throat, and grew in the still night until her room rang with laughter. Stepping on the air as though it were solid ground, she spun in circles, her arms out wide as she danced.
Never had such peace touched the heart of a young woman as it did the girl who knelt in the cathedral to pray. Her head bowed, she spoke with God humbly at the foot of a magnificent replica of Jesus Christ as he hung on the cross. The warm glow of the many candles set on either side of the cross caused the straight black that hung around her face to shine.
As she lifted her face at the end of her prayer to meet Christ's ever-watchful eyes, she found that He was not there. Only the cross, looking ominously bare in it's nakedness, stood towering above her. And as she watched, it started to fall. It leaned toward her, slowly at first, and then began to fall with increasing speed, as she knelt frozen beneath it, unable to do anything but watch with fearful eyes.
The brass symbol of suffering fell upon her hand with a another strike of pain. She knew that a bone had snapped, felt it shift to a place it oughtn't be, and the pain of it was dizzying. She cried out, clenching her jaw as tightly as she could. Fresh tears fell down her cheeks as she prayed to God that this punishment would stop.
When it was all through, and God stayed their hands, she woke in darkness. She was in a space so small that as she slumped against one wall, her legs had to tuck beneath her to rest against the wall opposite. Her body was battered and bruised, and covered all over by an utter pain that screamed in each limb she moved. She was trapped, and had no will to be free. Many times had they broken her body, but finally, they had broken her spirit.
Then, without notice, all of the walls, and the floor, were gone. With nothing under her, she began to fall through the air. It was still dark, but there were stars. Her arms reached out as if to stop the ground meeting her as she seemed to move in slow-motion, but suddenly, the ground stopped getting closer. It was as if gravity was no longer pulling her down, and as she looked ahead, she knew with an exhilarating rush that she was free.
The little girl with long shining black hair was the happiest child in the world. The ice cream cone in her hand was the sweetest treat, and she was so excited over it that she had covered her face, her hands, and her shirt with the sticky chocolate.
A man in his thirties was on her left, and he watched his little girl savor her ice cream cone with a youthful smile on his face. As she looked up at her father with a messy grin, she felt a tiny hand tug on her sleeve.
With the undoubting knowledge that dreams can give to the dreamer, she knew who it was before she looked. When she did, she saw her brother pointing at his head and laughing. He'd smushed his cone upside-down on his head, and was laughing with glee as it slowly slid down the side of his silvery-black hair. Through the eyes of the little girl, the dreamer watched and laughed. The whole scene was fuzzy, falling in and out of focus, and as she looked over her brother's head, up, up, up, to her mother on his other side, they faded from view.
Everything remained hazy, but she could still feel. She felt warm fingers stroking her head gently, and by some sixth sense that infants have, she knew her mother's touch. She felt the warm little body beside her move, and out of instinct, clasped the tiny hand in her equally tiny fist.
Suddenly, she was in the air again. The hand was still clasped firmly in hers, and though she didn't look to her side, she knew that he was flying with her. It must have been day, for though she couldn't see the sun, everything was lit with a wonderful, dazzling light that danced and glowed on every surface.
In reality, it was the middle of the night. That same young woman, as she dreamed, stood at the edge of her bed as still as a statue. It was the middle of the night, and her restless sleep had caused her to arise.
But it was hard to keep her grip, and she felt the rest of her body dragging down as their hands slipped. They lost touch, and all at once, the magnificent light went out. The world was plunged into a darkness she had seen many times before.
As her gradual tilt forward finally overthrew her balance, and she pitched forward off the bed, she awoke with a start. Fresh from her dream, she was convinced for those first few waking moments that she was falling to her death. Her resistance was instinctive, as natural as the reaction to throw her hands in front of her face came the reaction to stop the fall.
She propelled herself through the air, so out of touch with reality and herself in her confusion that she rammed into the wall a foot from the ceiling. She turned, pressing her shoulder against it, and looked back at where she had just been with wide eyes. She laid a palm flat on the wall and pushed away from it to float in the middle of her room.
As relieved and triumphant as Aurora felt to have been returned to her rightful place in control of her body, she was still hesitant. She cocked her head, her eyes on the ceiling as she listened intently. Jeanne-Marie was not gone, she could sense her still there. But she no longer wanted to fight for the control. Aurora could feel a sense of worthlessness from Jeanne-Marie, and in her triumph, she didn't attempt to sympathize.
Aurora's laughter started deep in her throat, and grew in the still night until her room rang with laughter. Stepping on the air as though it were solid ground, she spun in circles, her arms out wide as she danced.
