This is how it always ended, this reocurring nightmare of mine.

I would fall. I would always fall. The strange thing is, that when I wake up and even while I'm falling, I have no idea what led to it.

I'm falling now. I take the chance to look around me for a few seconds. I can't see the ground or where i fell from but I seem to be falling down a vertical tunnel. The light was strange and full of mixed colors, as though picasso had painted lamplight. It takes me until now to notice that I'm screaming. Screaming as though I though someone could hear me. As though someone would save me from this certain death. But by now, I remember that no one is coming.

My screams, The freezing updraft from whatever was below me, The way my throat started to ache as my screams grew louder and more urgent, even the weird tingly cold feeling I get in my toes when I'm not wearing shoes.

I give one last final shriek and...

and...

And I wake up...

"Alice."

I shift in my sleep. The sound of my screaming fades and is replaced by my father's voice, the rumbling of our old beat-up truck and the voices on early morning AM talk radio.

"Alice, We're almost there. Time to get up."

I force my dark green eyes open halfway. I groan and stretch. I had been asleep for three hours at the least. I looked out the window. It couldn't be later than 6 AM, seeing as it was still a bit dark out. However, it was just light enough for me to see a green road sign that read 'Rio Vista City Limit.'

Rio Vista. It was a small town in northern California, right next to the Sacramento River. Nothing bad or particularly exciting ever happened in Rio Vista, which is probably the exact reason my Grandfather Allen Monrey chose to live there. My home is in New York City. A small apartment near times square is where my father and I had made our home since my mother left.

I was going to stay at my Grandpa's house for the week of spring break because my father had to go down to Florida for his sister's funeral. I didn't mind going to my Grandfather's much, other than the inevitable obstical of Marsha. Marsha was the woman that Allen had married after my real Grandmother had died. It's not that I hated her, it's just that she never let me do anything.

It was times like these, when my father was waving goodbye to me from the truck and I was standing infront of my Grandpa's painted red door, index finger hovering over the doorbell, that I really wish I was someone else. I wish that I was my best friend, Izzy Walker, down in Disney World with her parents and little sister. I wish I was my mother, Karrie, off in some distant country and without boredom most likely. I wish I was that woman in the casket down in Florida that my dad was going to see, just so long as I didn't have to be here.

I took a deep breath and pushed down on the door bell. I wasn't just going to stand there and wish because, I'm not Izzy. I'm not my mother. I'm not my aunt. I am Alice Elizabella Monrey. I am a 15 year old girl. And I am watching my Grandfather pull open the door.

"Alice! So good to see you!"

He hugged me tight, almost making me drop my suitcase. Allen was a big man, meaning in this case, both tall (about 6'2") and wide (He had a sort of a beer belly). Needless to say, being hugged by him was...a winding experience.

He led me inside and I glanced around. It was a big, two story house with lots of windows, white walls, and blue carpet. My grandpa's big white husky, Koda, trotted up to me and licked my hand. I pet him on the head lovingly. Koda was a big dog, but there wasn't a sweeter dog on this earth.

"Your room's up the stairs and to the right." Grandpa told me, patting my head and ruffling my short brown hair. I nodded and carried my case up the stairs. Koda trotted after me. I turned the hall and peeked into the room I had been directed to. There was a queen-size bed in the middle of the room and an old television on the dresser. The big window was covered by billowy lace curtains and the walls were a pale baby blue. I set my bag on the floor next to the bed and sat down.

I looked down at myself. I was wearing the same clothes I had the day before. A white top with a black bandaged heart, partialy covered by a black unzipped jacket that was tree sizes too big for me. I also wore denim shorts and long black and white striped stockings under black, scoffed up combat boots.

I sighed as i removed the large bulky shoes and set to exploring the upper story. I found two studies, one bathroom and the master bedroom. I had looked into all but the bedroom and noticed nothing out of the ordinary...accept for the fact that there were no mirrors. Anywhere.

As I look over to the master bedroom, my curiosity began to take hold of my reason and beat it to a bloddy pulp. I inched over to the door and opened it. I sighed in relief, seeing no living thing in the room other than Marsha's calico cat, Honey. I explored a bit of the room before hearing Honey meow at the master bathroom door. I opened it for her and looked inside. Still no mirrors but there was a very odd looking door at the end of the room. I became entranced by it and moved closer, step by step, inch by inch.

"...Alice..."

I could have sworn I heard my name, called but still whispered. Soft but urgent. I lifted my hand and my fingers twitched as I reached out for the gold doorknob.

"...Aliiice..."

My fingers brushed the cold metal.

"Alice!"

My grandfather's shout from downstairs made me jump almost a foot in the air.

"Time for dinner!"