I was in my bed, and couldn't quit sleep, at least was trying to, but was
completely wakened by a little noise coming from Emma's door. Was she
going out for a walk again? I got out of bed, and waited till she had gone
passed my room to get out. The floor shrieked beneath my foots, but she
continued, as if completely deaf. She was walking in a very weird way, as if
not seeing anything, as if floating on a cloud or something like that. What
the hell was she doing? Where was she going? I called her:
"Hey, Emma, where are you going tonight?" She turned around, her eyes
were shut. She slowly opened them, and stared, frightened, at me, before she
fell. She toppled over the stairs, and tumbled down them. I stayed there, on
the spot, at lost, when I heard her cry and realised we were alone because
the Joystriple had gone casino a few hours before, thinking we were asleep.
I ran down, hearing her grumble, cry, shout, and curse like anything. When
she saw me, at least I think she did, because she held her hand out. But I
couldn't get a word of what she was saying. I pulled her, but quickly
understood she wouldn't easily stand by herself. I helped her up, but as
soon as she seemed to stand, she collapsed to the floor, sobbing loudly. So
gently taking her on my arm, I took her to the sofa, and laid her there.
What was I supposed to do? In France there were numbers I would have
called, but here I didn't know. So I brought her a glass of water, a cold towel, and a cushion. She wept more silently now, and I could finally
comprehend that she had hurt her back, her arm, her neck, and many other
places too. I placed some ice, but I was not a specialist on
that kind of business. None the less, she seemed to calm down, and asked me:
"What happened? What was I doing on the top of the stairs?" How was I to
know better than her? If she didn't, than who would?
"I suppose you walked there."
"No. I didn't, only in my dream. But this isn't a dream right?" I pinched
her.
"Right it isn't. But then, what happened?"
"Maybe you're a sleepwalker. Has this ever happened to you before?"
"No. Not that I know of."
"Well it is weird."
"I suppose I might be. But I don't know. Please don't tell anybody. Please.
I have got to have your promise." She nearly begged me. I didn't want to; it
was a very important thing. But she was kind of sweet, and was hurt and all,
so I promised with a sight. Then had to help her, nearly to carry her to her
bedroom, and wondered that if she couldn't walk the next day, how on earth
she would explain it. She only answered she'd manage, thank you very much.
Her hairs smelled so good. She had her head on my shoulder, because her neck
was hurting her. She had a very soft cheek. And her soft breath that I heard
while leaving her room was so pleasant, I felt a tangling feeling arose in
the pit of my stomach. She looked pretty, there asleep on her pillow, her
eyes closed, and her face little bruised on the side. I rejected this weird
feeling, and walked away.
completely wakened by a little noise coming from Emma's door. Was she
going out for a walk again? I got out of bed, and waited till she had gone
passed my room to get out. The floor shrieked beneath my foots, but she
continued, as if completely deaf. She was walking in a very weird way, as if
not seeing anything, as if floating on a cloud or something like that. What
the hell was she doing? Where was she going? I called her:
"Hey, Emma, where are you going tonight?" She turned around, her eyes
were shut. She slowly opened them, and stared, frightened, at me, before she
fell. She toppled over the stairs, and tumbled down them. I stayed there, on
the spot, at lost, when I heard her cry and realised we were alone because
the Joystriple had gone casino a few hours before, thinking we were asleep.
I ran down, hearing her grumble, cry, shout, and curse like anything. When
she saw me, at least I think she did, because she held her hand out. But I
couldn't get a word of what she was saying. I pulled her, but quickly
understood she wouldn't easily stand by herself. I helped her up, but as
soon as she seemed to stand, she collapsed to the floor, sobbing loudly. So
gently taking her on my arm, I took her to the sofa, and laid her there.
What was I supposed to do? In France there were numbers I would have
called, but here I didn't know. So I brought her a glass of water, a cold towel, and a cushion. She wept more silently now, and I could finally
comprehend that she had hurt her back, her arm, her neck, and many other
places too. I placed some ice, but I was not a specialist on
that kind of business. None the less, she seemed to calm down, and asked me:
"What happened? What was I doing on the top of the stairs?" How was I to
know better than her? If she didn't, than who would?
"I suppose you walked there."
"No. I didn't, only in my dream. But this isn't a dream right?" I pinched
her.
"Right it isn't. But then, what happened?"
"Maybe you're a sleepwalker. Has this ever happened to you before?"
"No. Not that I know of."
"Well it is weird."
"I suppose I might be. But I don't know. Please don't tell anybody. Please.
I have got to have your promise." She nearly begged me. I didn't want to; it
was a very important thing. But she was kind of sweet, and was hurt and all,
so I promised with a sight. Then had to help her, nearly to carry her to her
bedroom, and wondered that if she couldn't walk the next day, how on earth
she would explain it. She only answered she'd manage, thank you very much.
Her hairs smelled so good. She had her head on my shoulder, because her neck
was hurting her. She had a very soft cheek. And her soft breath that I heard
while leaving her room was so pleasant, I felt a tangling feeling arose in
the pit of my stomach. She looked pretty, there asleep on her pillow, her
eyes closed, and her face little bruised on the side. I rejected this weird
feeling, and walked away.