Summary: Hers was tangible, nothing more.
Dream
Sarah doesn't remember how she came by her Dream, a tiny glass bauble caught in the grasp of a raven's claw. Its frayed leather thong long ago replaced by a delicate silver chain. This was the Story she made because Stories were hers to Command.
Sometimes though, her Dream would spin and spin and spin, and she could See. Memories and Fairytales and another's Dreams. Someone else's Story.
Sarah loved her Dream, despite its miniscule fragility.
Once upon a time, it had been infinite.
It shrank when she Forgot.
She wandered, and she languished.
But then, one day, she Wished.
A/N: This is slated to be part of something else, but expanded. So I thought I'd post the original because I enjoy how this version flows, which is unfortunately lost in the longer version.
Oh. And the story cover pertains to this particular drabble.
