Dreamer-A Story.

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Dreamer-A Story.

Post by RileyRooMystic on Thu Jul 09, 2015 6:15 pm


"'So,' he said, how's death?'
'Cold,' she answered,' It just keeps going, it never stops for love ones, for friends, for..anyone…You realize how alone you really are.'"
Sophia woke from yet another terrifying dream; it was a minute past midnight, like always. She always had the dream at exactly midnight, then, by the next minute, it's over. She shakily sat up in her old four poster bed, its curtains waving lazily in the breeze from the open window.
"I didn't open that…" She murmured, looking around her small third-floor bedroom. Wooden floors covered in paint specks and pencil shavings. An antique desk sat in the corner, covered in sketch pads and canvases. Beside her window lay an easel with a drawing, she didn't remember there being when she went to sleep. She reached out onto her bedside table and turned on her lamp, the light barely covering the silent room.
"Luckily, I'm not blind, or this lamp would be even more useless to me, "she said to herself as she picked up the canvas sized drawing; she sat in her window and observed it in the moonlight. In the picture was the face of a young guy, maybe her age or a few years older. He had white hair that seemed almost an icy blue and suited his cold deep blue eyes. His expression seemed almost as if he was lost in thought. His eyes, although staring straight, didn't seem to stare toward the artist, like most portraits Sophia had seen, but seemed to look somewhere behind the artist.  Her eyes noticed the bottom of the page, and she gasped as she saw her own artist's print sitting boldly underneath the piece.  
As much as she loved art, and was thought of as an inspiring artist and painter, Sophia had never been able to draw anything close to the face that looked out from the sheet in her hands.  She looked at the other paintings and pictures that decorated her room, all drawn with the kits her father sent her from his job in Dessen, a town a few days away from their home in Amtion.
"I did this..." Sophia heard herself whisper as she lightly traced the features of the boy with her fingers. She couldn’t believe that such beauty was drawn by her petite fingers, or who the boy was.  All of her other portraits featured people she knew, like the maid who used to brush her hair before bed, or the stern housekeeper who would box her eyes when she caught Sophia sneaking sweets after dark.   Resting her head against the window, she peered through to see the beautiful night sky, but found herself staring it into the pits of the same icy eyes that stared from the page in her grasp.

RileyRooMystic
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