This is a story I wrote a couple years ago. But I still like it, a lot.
And the response I got from it was great. So I thought I would post it
here, just to see. Please, read and review. I live for it!
The Living Dream
By Rena Cresten
Chapter 1
Rated: PG
Disclaimers: I don't own the characters of Sailor Moon, don't claim to. I don't own Crystal Tokyo, don't claim that either. But the story itself is mine. So please don't use it for anything without asking me first.
******************
It had been months since ...
No, I reminded myself. It had been years. It had been almost two hundred years since it happened. And yet, even two hundred years later I still held onto the hope that he would come back to me. That I would see him walk through that door and sweep me into his arms. Make love to me slow and long and then hold me all night and through the next day.
Every night I dreamed it. And every morning I woke to find an empty spot beside me on the bed. No warmth there, no smell, nothing to say he had been there. And each morning I would roll out of bed and dress for a day of events that meant nothing to my numb brain. I would sign papers, talk to people, listen to problems and spew out advice, I would walk from here to there, take my normal stroll with Raye and listen to her gush about her husband and children, then go back to signing papers and talking and walking, until it was finally time for me to return to my bed and my dreams.
Like some run on sentence, some endless note of a song (sung off key of course), my day ran past me. Perhaps that was the reason that it seemed only months ago instead of the two centuries that had lapsed by me. Two hundred years, three-hundred-and-sixty-five days in each year, and every hour seemed to not exist in memory. Like a giant hole in my life, two hundred years of nothingness. The only thing I remembered in the empty passing of time were my dreams.
And, as I slunk down again onto my bed, I thanked the higher powers that I still had this. No children, no husband, just dreams. I popped another sleeping pill into my mouth and closed my eyes, waiting patiently for sleep to consume me.
When I had almost given up hope, I saw his face before me. He slunk through my window and watched me a moment to make sure I was awake. Then walked to my bed and ran his fingers through my hair.
Oh, what a dream this one was.
So real.
Too real.
His eyes stared into mine with a longing, as though he hadn't seen me for years. A normal part of my dreams, something I wished for every night. And yet again nothing was a surprise as he leaned in and placed his tender lips against mine. He held me close, whispering words of endearment into my hair. I felt myself relax completely in his embrace and my eyes grew heavy.
I couldn't really register that in dreams you don't sleep, that is because I was sleeping. And soundly at that. No tormenting dreams, no tossing and turning. And I woke in a better mood than I had in the last two hundred years. I rolled over in bed, not really wanting to do anything but stare at the still rising sun. It was so glorious, the colors streaked across the sky in the most brilliant shades.
I almost didn't notice the slight differences in the morning, the smell, the warmth, the indent in the pillow, but I had to notice my open window.
I pulled myself to my feet, wrapping the sheet around my body and rushing to the open balcony. I threw open the doors to view everything around me. I searched the skies for a sign, a sign of what I don't know. Then I realized how high I was and that nobody could get up here, even flying. Not even him.
But my hope was still stirring inside of my heart so I rushed to the rail and stared down. The wind whipped at my golden hair, covering my vision for a moment, until it moved, finally, out of the way. Shock ran through me as I watched a man run off the palace grounds wearing the clothing that my love had worn last night in my dream.
Forgetting my nakedness, I ran out of my room and through the halls toward a side door. Clutching the sheet to my body, ignoring the stares, I ran into the growing morning light. Shouts sprang from behind me, but heeding them was not in my plans.
I took off after him. Mumbling words that seemed to come strait from my mouth instead of my mind. And yet those words, mindless as they may have been, brought some interest towards me from around the gardens. People popped up all over the place, whispering and pointing.
I was close.
I knew I was.
But for a moment it went black and I was forced to struggle. After being dragged back to a spot where nobody was, the blanket was lifted from over my body and I stared into four angry faces. I tried to push past them, to find him again, but they formed a wall. I tried between one of them, then the other. No openings appeared.
Anger.
That's all I felt as I stared at them. They shot words at me. Questions that fell on deaf ears.
Clutching the sheet tighter around me I whirled and stormed out of the gardens and back to my rooms. Brewing up plans for getting back at them.
"How DARE they!!!!!!!!!" I stewed and cursed and threw things. Until finally calming enough to sit on the bed. I held my head in my hands, turning my thoughts from my anger at them to my real problem.
I know I saw him!
But could it be real?
It was then I noticed the rose on the floor beside the bed. Like he knew I would be sitting just like this. Picking up the delicate flower, I noticed the lack of thorns as I raised it to my nose. The smell was heavenly. A smell I had missed so desperately the last two decades. Then it hit me ...
It was real!!!!!!!!!!!!
I practically jumped right through the ceiling. He had been here. He was alive, and he had been here. The wait was over, and he had been here. He had held me all night. I had no need for my dreams anymore.
But why did he leave?
I stopped my joyous celebration to return to my place on the bed and wonder. Why hadn't he stayed? This is his home. He belongs with me. But why leave? Why not stay with me? It didn't make sense. What could have made him leave me again? I know he would stay if he had the choice ...
He didn't have a choice.
Maybe he didn't have a choice.
That brought anger again, and then tears. Who would do such a thing to my prince? To my precious soul, my only love? I cried harder. Whoever did it, certainly wasn't a fair person. Certainly wasn't fair.
Why?
How?
Who?
I fell back on my bed and cried myself to sleep, clutching the sheet to me now more for comfort than protection.
The Living Dream
By Rena Cresten
Chapter 1
Rated: PG
Disclaimers: I don't own the characters of Sailor Moon, don't claim to. I don't own Crystal Tokyo, don't claim that either. But the story itself is mine. So please don't use it for anything without asking me first.
******************
It had been months since ...
No, I reminded myself. It had been years. It had been almost two hundred years since it happened. And yet, even two hundred years later I still held onto the hope that he would come back to me. That I would see him walk through that door and sweep me into his arms. Make love to me slow and long and then hold me all night and through the next day.
Every night I dreamed it. And every morning I woke to find an empty spot beside me on the bed. No warmth there, no smell, nothing to say he had been there. And each morning I would roll out of bed and dress for a day of events that meant nothing to my numb brain. I would sign papers, talk to people, listen to problems and spew out advice, I would walk from here to there, take my normal stroll with Raye and listen to her gush about her husband and children, then go back to signing papers and talking and walking, until it was finally time for me to return to my bed and my dreams.
Like some run on sentence, some endless note of a song (sung off key of course), my day ran past me. Perhaps that was the reason that it seemed only months ago instead of the two centuries that had lapsed by me. Two hundred years, three-hundred-and-sixty-five days in each year, and every hour seemed to not exist in memory. Like a giant hole in my life, two hundred years of nothingness. The only thing I remembered in the empty passing of time were my dreams.
And, as I slunk down again onto my bed, I thanked the higher powers that I still had this. No children, no husband, just dreams. I popped another sleeping pill into my mouth and closed my eyes, waiting patiently for sleep to consume me.
When I had almost given up hope, I saw his face before me. He slunk through my window and watched me a moment to make sure I was awake. Then walked to my bed and ran his fingers through my hair.
Oh, what a dream this one was.
So real.
Too real.
His eyes stared into mine with a longing, as though he hadn't seen me for years. A normal part of my dreams, something I wished for every night. And yet again nothing was a surprise as he leaned in and placed his tender lips against mine. He held me close, whispering words of endearment into my hair. I felt myself relax completely in his embrace and my eyes grew heavy.
I couldn't really register that in dreams you don't sleep, that is because I was sleeping. And soundly at that. No tormenting dreams, no tossing and turning. And I woke in a better mood than I had in the last two hundred years. I rolled over in bed, not really wanting to do anything but stare at the still rising sun. It was so glorious, the colors streaked across the sky in the most brilliant shades.
I almost didn't notice the slight differences in the morning, the smell, the warmth, the indent in the pillow, but I had to notice my open window.
I pulled myself to my feet, wrapping the sheet around my body and rushing to the open balcony. I threw open the doors to view everything around me. I searched the skies for a sign, a sign of what I don't know. Then I realized how high I was and that nobody could get up here, even flying. Not even him.
But my hope was still stirring inside of my heart so I rushed to the rail and stared down. The wind whipped at my golden hair, covering my vision for a moment, until it moved, finally, out of the way. Shock ran through me as I watched a man run off the palace grounds wearing the clothing that my love had worn last night in my dream.
Forgetting my nakedness, I ran out of my room and through the halls toward a side door. Clutching the sheet to my body, ignoring the stares, I ran into the growing morning light. Shouts sprang from behind me, but heeding them was not in my plans.
I took off after him. Mumbling words that seemed to come strait from my mouth instead of my mind. And yet those words, mindless as they may have been, brought some interest towards me from around the gardens. People popped up all over the place, whispering and pointing.
I was close.
I knew I was.
But for a moment it went black and I was forced to struggle. After being dragged back to a spot where nobody was, the blanket was lifted from over my body and I stared into four angry faces. I tried to push past them, to find him again, but they formed a wall. I tried between one of them, then the other. No openings appeared.
Anger.
That's all I felt as I stared at them. They shot words at me. Questions that fell on deaf ears.
Clutching the sheet tighter around me I whirled and stormed out of the gardens and back to my rooms. Brewing up plans for getting back at them.
"How DARE they!!!!!!!!!" I stewed and cursed and threw things. Until finally calming enough to sit on the bed. I held my head in my hands, turning my thoughts from my anger at them to my real problem.
I know I saw him!
But could it be real?
It was then I noticed the rose on the floor beside the bed. Like he knew I would be sitting just like this. Picking up the delicate flower, I noticed the lack of thorns as I raised it to my nose. The smell was heavenly. A smell I had missed so desperately the last two decades. Then it hit me ...
It was real!!!!!!!!!!!!
I practically jumped right through the ceiling. He had been here. He was alive, and he had been here. The wait was over, and he had been here. He had held me all night. I had no need for my dreams anymore.
But why did he leave?
I stopped my joyous celebration to return to my place on the bed and wonder. Why hadn't he stayed? This is his home. He belongs with me. But why leave? Why not stay with me? It didn't make sense. What could have made him leave me again? I know he would stay if he had the choice ...
He didn't have a choice.
Maybe he didn't have a choice.
That brought anger again, and then tears. Who would do such a thing to my prince? To my precious soul, my only love? I cried harder. Whoever did it, certainly wasn't a fair person. Certainly wasn't fair.
Why?
How?
Who?
I fell back on my bed and cried myself to sleep, clutching the sheet to me now more for comfort than protection.