Sara enjoyed running, the thrill of freedom that filled through her as the wind rushed over her skin, the sudden pump of adrenaline that coursed through her veins. It was intoxicating. Running always brought her a heightened sense of awareness bringing with it a faint shimmer of memories that seemed to hover just out of her reach at the edge of her mind. It always seemed that if she just kept going she would finally reach them, a prize that promised her all her dreams.
Dreams….
The word seemed to linger, echoing softly in her thoughts as she slowed down, her mind spinning wildly. Sara stopped in front of the entrance to the theatre building, her hand hovering inches above the door knob; however, all thought of opening the door was lost.
"Dreams", she whispered it softly as if savoring the sound of it as it left her lips. Suddenly, as if on cue, reflections of images flashed to life in a brief and fast pace slide show. Crystals, faeries, feathers raced past quickly but one image loomed and stayed in mind and left her speechless.
A set of mismatched eyes….
She knew them well. Sketch upon sketch of them, their color, their shape, littered the easel in her dorm room. It was an obsession to her, but no matter how often she saw them in her mind, no matter how perfect her imitation of them, no matter what median she used to color or shade them, she couldn't capture the pride, arrogance, or sensuality that she knew they reflected. It was torment to see them so often, to know that she had seen them before and never be able to place them, never be able to capture the face that belonged to them.
They came to her in her dreams, haunted her, teased her with their almost flourescent glow that kept their face veiled in shadows beyond them. It was torment in the most exquisite sense of the word when a brief flash of pale skin caresses the light, escaping the shadows. In those moments she could almost see the his face. She knew it was a man, the eyes themselves spoke of his gender.
A mystery man? Sara shook her head, bringing herself back to the present.
She smiled at her own imagination. A few years ago she would have enjoyed such a fantasy; would have believed that it could be true, but she was a young woman now. She was in college now and though her majors required her creativity and imagination she had learned that there was a boundary between fantasy and reality that could never be crossed.
She laughed.
At least not without totally relinquishing what grasp of life she managed to clasp to her.
Fantasy and dreams were exactly that; nothing more, nothing less. She had left them behind her, in her room with her books, toys, and other materials of childish orientation. Sara reached out and grasped the door knob with a determination that cost her more than she was willing to admit to.
As the she turned the door knob, her mind pushed back thoughts of fancy and mystery men.
As she opened the door, the adult part of her overwhelmed what was left of the young girl she had been.
As she entered the building and disappeared inside, a part of her hid in the corner of her heart and cried for the loss of its belief.
The loss of magick….
The loss of Sara….
