O.O
Another one? Why yes, yes it is! *laugh* The exhaustion of the week-before-finals-week has caught up with me, and the best ways to stay awake in class are either draw or write. So, I wrote this in Art History today (that poor professor, she prolly thinks I'm finally taking notes, and I'm just writing fluffy Reid/Morgan stories).
Anyway, I honestly have no idea why this one popped into my head.
On a side note, I love to write in second person. It's so fun, and I wish I could write it more. But not many people like to read in second person, for some reason. :/
I would also like to thank everyone who has reviewed my other two little stories. The comments have been lovely, and I send you all virtual hugs! XD
Anywho, enjoy!
You're running and running. It's dark and it's cold, and you can feel danger creeping closer through the inky blackness. There's a warmth up ahead, a lightness, and you know you must reach it, you must save it. But even as you run faster, it gets further and further away. The darkness is growing, it's laughing, a cruel, deep, disturbing rumble.
Ahead, there's a terrible, piercing scream that chills you to your core, and you know you're too late. The dark has reached the light, and you fall to your knees as the horror and despair presses down on you from all sides, crushing, suffocating. You can feel the life, the hope, all the goodness being leeched from your body. With the last of your strength, you open your mouth and-
You shoot up in bed with a strangled yell, eyes darting around the room, illuminated in a soft glow from a small lamp on the dresser. Your body is drenched in a cold sweat and your chest heaves with great, shuddering breaths.
You cry out as arms wrap around you, but soon melt into their familiar comfort as he pulls you into his chest. You press your face into the warm skin over his heart, shivering as silent tears stream down your face.
He rubs his hands in soothing circles across your back, muttering words of comfort. "Shh. It's alright. It was just a dream. It's okay."
"Spencer," you whimper, burrowing further into his thin chest.
"Shh. It was just a dream, Derek. It's okay."
You hold him tighter as he kisses the top of your head. His familiar scent floods your nose, and beneath your ear you can hear the steady beating of his heart. It comforts you more than anything else, and it lulls you back to sleep as his hands still rub soothingly across your back.
Alright, honestly, show of hands: who thought Reid had the dream? *laugh*
But seriously, have you ever had those dreams where it's just super dark, and scary, and you think you're going to die? They're creepy!
I had another short story idea pop into my head in pre-calc while I was doodling turtle tattoo designs (my mom wants one, and she asked me to come up with ideas). I might type it up tonight, or I might save it to write in Art History on... Wednesay. Gah, I keep forgetting today is only Monday. Major suckage. :/