They say when you meet your soul mate that you will know automatically. That something deep inside you will flare to life and let you know. That it is fate and so your body, mind, and soul should know when it happens.
I didn’t know. Honestly, I hated him at first. Everyone did. He was actually on the other side. A true Romeo and Juliet story. Except, hopefully, our ending will be different than that of Romeo and Juliet.
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For years I had the same dream. Every night I would wake up in cold sweats from this horrifying nightmare, always the same thing. And really, there wasn’t anything that truly frightening that happened during my nightmare, but it scared me nonetheless.
Every night it would start with me in an elevator. Nothing out of the ordinary yet. No strange feelings. Just going down in an elevator. After a few minutes of hearing that awful music that I swear the elevator companies created just to drive people insane, the distinct “DING” of the elevator reaching the desired floor and the doors start to creep open.
This is where it starts to get a little on the creepy side. The doors open to a small foyer, or what used to be a foyer. In the center was a broken stone fountain that had once been beautiful beyond compare. The broken pieces of the fountain lay all around it. Broken angels laying on their sides their trumpets strewn haphazardly about. Almost all the individual features of the angels or other adornments of the fountain had been washed away after years of uncaring.
Beyond the fountain stood a pair of white French doors. The doors so white they almost looked like they were gleaming. They were the only remotely clean thing in the little room. All the panes of glass were completely covered by dust so thick that nothing could be seen through them.
Every night, no matter how hard I tried not to, I would find myself walking through the little room, my feet crunching on the remnants of the fountain angels as they led me to the doors on the other side of the room. My hand would reach out and grab the once shiny door handle and turn it just enough for the door to happily squeak open. Slowly it would open showing the contents of what lay beyond those dusty glass panes.
No matter how hard I would fight, my feet would keep me moving past that doorway into another room, much larger than the other. It looked like an old warehouse. Looking up, the rafters next to the ceiling were completely visible and I could see the roof above. Below there was a layer of dust on the floor so thick that it was no longer visible. The whole “room” was empty except one lone figure sitting directly in the middle of the room.
My feet kept moving. Bringing me closer and closer to that lone shadow. I would turn my head to look behind me and I could see my footprints in the dust. Closer and closer, my body would move to that figure that kept sending shivers up my spine. In no time at all I was hovering over it. From this distance I could tell that it wasn’t just a figure, but a woman. She was hunched over to the front and cloaked in a long dark shawl. Though the clothing she wore was baggy on her, I could see her frailness like I could see her shoulder blades protruding, almost slicing through, the back layers of the shawl.
As I sit there staring at her, my hand would reach out to touch her shoulder. I guess in my mind I wanted to check to see if she was still alive. My hand would get almost to her and the hand that is closest to me would shoot up and grab my arm.
Every time, this is when I wake up. Every time I don’t get to see who she is but somehow I already know.
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very suspenseful! I’m left wanting more, excellent job!
You described the setting so well in this piece. I was literally able to picture the darkness of the room, the peculiar elevator leading to the foyer, the dust all over the windows and in the room, as well as the broken angels. Very mysterious. Awesome job!