Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Snowflake Dreams ❯ Snowflake Dreams ( One-Shot )

Snowflake Dreams

By: Natilie Sawada

P.S. Please Review

 

I stare at my ceiling and then turn my head to look at the digital clock on my nightstand. 12:07…12:07…12:07. Red flashing tells me I should be asleep. It's too hot to sleep. The furnace is turned up too high again. I'm roasting alive under the red 12:08… 12:08…12:08. My pajama pants stick to my legs and I can't breathe. The window glows blue. It's cold outside. I can sense it. Freezing, silent glory. The thought of it sends a shiver down my spine. Finally I can't take it anymore.

I throw off the covers and creep downstairs, lightly skipping over the stairs that creek, feeling like a fairy; very light on my feet and invisible. I know I am alone, but the moment seems so quiet; so tense; like the whole world is hanging in midair. Too peaceful to disturb. Like the air is holing its breath.

As quietly as I can I wrap a scarf around my neck and shove my feet into boots, my hands into some mittens, and my arms into coat sleeves. My boots clunk loudly against the floor as I walk to the door which squeaks when I open it. The quiet click echoes for miles as it closes.

The icy air washes over me. The sense of rejuvenation; of finally waking up after a long sleep cascades over my brain. A piano duet starts playing in my head. If I were playing, I wonder which part I'd be. I tromp to the backyard, silence following me like the footprints I leave in the snow. I wonder if I'm the only one who can see the snow. If it were invisible to everyone else, would it be lonely? I suspect it might be. The piano notes swell in a strange chord that chimes eerily sweet. If I were playing, I wonder who would play the other part. The snow whispers.

I glance back at the dark windows of the house. I wonder if anyone's watching. If they were, I wonder what they'd see. Certainly not what I see. The scarf around my neck is too tight, and I slip it off my mouth. The moisture from breathing freezes on it. The wet wool smells like being a kid.

Thousands of snowflakes drift all around me from the sky. Didn't I hear somewhere that every snowflake is different? I wonder if this is how the inside of my head looks; each snowflake, each thought completely unique. I catch the ones that look important on my mittens. I hope I caught the right ones. Some hit my cheeks and hair and melt away. The piano changes key. The snow keeps whispering.

It's so blue, I can't help but think. Blue like icicles when the sun glitters on them. Blue like blue raspberry slushies when you've sucked all but a little of the syrup out, blue like your tongue after a blueberry shake. It's so blue. Glowing blue. And cold. I wonder if I were imagining this, would it still be this cold. And if only I could see the snow, would it still be cold to someone else? Would the person watching from the dark windows be able to see the snow; feel the cold? Is there really a point in knowing? Is there really a point in asking? Is anyone really listening?

I lie down in the snow and watch my thoughts spiral down from the shadowy sky. I wonder if the clock in my room is still flashing if there's no one there to see it. Would the snow still be falling if I weren't here to see it? Three snowflakes land on my face. One on my eyelid, one on my cheek, and one on my lips.

The piano gets softer, or at least one player does, slowly drifting quieter. It's quite beautiful. Just like the snow. I hope this is how the inside of my mind looks. It's so pretty. I close my eyes. I wonder if this is all real. Does it matter? I wonder if this is all just a dream. Does it matter? One piano part slowly grows quieter, striking one last unbearably sweet tinkling chord as it drifts slowly out of existence. Now there is only one player left, slowly plucking out a single string of notes. I drift slowly out of existence. Now there is only the snow. I'm not really there anymore. The snow is above me, is below me, is beside me, is around me, is me. Does it count as dreaming if you're already in a dream? Does it count as dreaming if you're not sure you're really dreaming? Maybe if I'm lucky, I'll never have to wake up.

 

THE END