Dream on the hill (Talia, p. 29)

She is sitting in the grass, on a hill, watching the setting sun. A raven-haired figure sits next to her, their hands together, fingers entwined. The sky is a lively palette of oranges, yellows and reds. She leans her head on the figure’s shoulder, letting out a soft sigh.

“Are you happy?” She starts at the sound of a voice from behind. Turning, she looks up into the face of a blonde woman, her eyes unreadable.

“I…” she pauses, looking from the woman to the figure and back.

“You didn’t have to leave.” There is a hint of reproach in the woman’s voice.

Her eyes drop, looking only at the ground.  “There was nothing left, you had already gone.”

“Had I? Do you know for sure?” The woman crosses her arms. “You didn’t wait to find out, did you?”

“All of the others had gone, what was left for me?” She releases the hand of the figure, pulling her legs in close.

“What indeed.” A sneer creeps onto the woman’s face. “So you ran… like you always do. And what did you find? Nothing? Is that why you came back?”

“This… this is my home.” She pulls her legs in tighter.

“Is it? Is it really?” Contempt laces the woman’s words.  “Home is a place for friends and family. And you have neither.”

She looks up, shock on her face. “That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it? Then tell me, when was the last time you saw one of them? A day ago? Perhaps two? Or has it been weeks? Even months?”  She shrinks in on herself as the woman’s voice rises. “They’ve left you, as you left me.”  She flinches at the words and the woman’s voice drops.  “You have nothing, and you have no one.”

“That’s not true…”  She reaches back for the figure’s hand, grasping at air. She turns to see the figure smiling sadly, and as the sun disappears, the raven-haired figure fades away. She looks up; even the blonde woman has grown faint.

“Isn’t it true? Isn’t it?”  With that the woman is gone. The sky darkens and a chill wind sends her into shivers. She sits, huddled on the hill, as the darkness creeps in from all sides. Night falls, and she knows that she is alone.

The candles have gone out, the night air seeps through the cracked window. She huddles on the far side of the bed, covers kicked to the floor. A chattering can be heard from her teeth, but she does not wake.


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