Once,
A small-town girl dreamt of the past
And saw things that are yet to come.
She dreamt of cliffs and dark alleys,
Of places she had never been.
The small-town girl dreamt of horrors unknown.
Of unseen hands, reaching, grasping
For any part of her; her flailing hands,
Her whipping hair, her tired legs.
Still she ran, further into the dark
Looking for a single spark.
In this nightscape, she always went to
Looking for the exit that was not there.
Still she did, for she had nowhere else,
She had nothing else, no one else.
One time, she stumbled into the light
Filled with laughter and warmth.
"A wedding", they say. What a joyous sight!
It was nothing she has ever felt.
But the small-town girl thought, "I don't fit here."
She is severely underdressed here
Adorned with her fears and loneliness,
Basking in the joy of strangers.
Twice,
The small-town girl met him twice a time.
She dreamt of moors, centuries old,
Wailing loud of stories untold.
She dreamt of lightnings and storms.
She dreamt of the worst things, and say,
"It's okay. This is just a dream."
So she went to the darkest places,
Faced the foulest foes, and realized
How weak she really was.
Still, she crafted her nightscape
Molding everything around her
According to what her heart feared.
It was a secret she reveled in.
But he,
He was another nightscape artist.
She knew it from the very start.
He was neither the light nor the exit,
But he was there. He was just there.
They never uttered a single word.
They just stared at each other and wondered,
"Why are you here in my nightscape?"
But there was no answer to be found.
The girl grew,
And the nightscape artist was no more.
For reality held worse horrors
Than those she could have conjured.
She climbed cliffs to be her takeoff points.
The dark alleys became her only way home,
And the lightnings were her guideposts.
The storms became her lullaby.
She hopes that he grew up, too.
