Disclaimer: I own nothing except a certain little cutie named Maria.
I never know what to do when everyone leaves.
When the children are at school and if Martha's out shopping, the house is in some ephemeral silence. You can hear boards creak and the refrigerator hum and the swish of the curtains against the window sill.
It's so empty. And a bit creepy.
It does nothing good for me. I know it's day time and all but I've seen scary movies. Teenage girls in old, empty houses never live long.
"What should we do, Annie?" I pick her up and hold her above my head. "Maybe a walk?"
I meander around the house to get up to my room and grab my shoes, but a tingling in the back of my mind stops me. Looking at my feet and then around the room, I say, "Annie?"
Nothing. Nothing, and yet, it feels like someone else is here. A non-existent presence. I just shake it off my shoulders, pick up my boots, and go back downstairs.
—
It wouldn't be so bad—being out and about. If there weren't other people out here doing other things that don't concern me, I wouldn't mind it at all.
Congregating like bees on a honey-paved road, people swarm me with their talk of whimsical jokes, social festivities, and any other babbling of the hour. I don't know how much more of it I can take.
However, being on the streets is a rather good thing. There is actually something for me to do.
"There's a bulletin board up over in the square," Martha said as she chopped some carrots.
I try not to be so frantic as I stand and push the streetlight button. Eight times in three seconds. Annie rubs her head against my leg in an attempt to sooth me. The walking man appears on the screen above and I take myself across.
I don't know why I'm in such a hurry.
They plop into the soup pot and she continues on. "Posters from local businesses are put up there pretty regularly, so I was thinking…"
There's too much on my mind. Too many people around. Too much light, too many sounds. Think of basics, I say to myself. Walk—right, then left, then right again. Breathe; do it over and over. If people look at you, smile. No no, not like that!
"I'm sorry," I say as I bump into another person. "Sorry."
On the first chance I get, I cower away from everything. There's a park on my left. In more of a rush than I ever was, I find an open spot in the grass and lay face down. The dew wets my face and I bask in the cold serenity of it. I know it's Annie who trots up beside me so I don't care to look.
"Why," I say to myself. Am I nervous for the bulletin board? The possibilities?
"What are you doing?" A sudden weight brings my attention to a certain fluff-ball swinging her tail back and forth as she lolls about on my head. "This is not cheering me up, I hope you know."
Meow.
Nonetheless, I let her stay. Her heat provides somewhat of a balance against the dew. As I raise a hand to pet her, a random projectile falls against it. Now I make her get off.
"Lady!" A line of kids stand before me, waiting and staring. "Do you think you can pick that up?"
Leaning against my arm is a duel monster card. "Is this yours?"
Stupid question. Why would he want the card other wise?
"Obviously," a black-haired boy says, receiving a jab from a friend. With a roll of his eyes, he grunts, "Yeah, it is."
I frown at his rudeness, but then feel like laughing. Knowing myself, I'd never be able to throw the card like I've seen duelists do on the TV.
I walk it over to them. "Thanks, lady." The huddle walks away but not before saying, "And if you don't mind, it would be a good idea to get off our field."
Whatever, I think.
I rest on a bench close enough to watch what happens next.
The kids, two standing and the rest seated, shout in the distance. When I spot things moving in my peripheral vision, my eyes dart to those walking over. Two children, a boy and girl with heads bright green hair, chat up the other kids. Before they sit down, more people come along and I realize it.
I know them. The deep red of a school jacket and the spikes of an orange up-do and the deep disinterested voice of one man and the quiet presentness of another. But I don't rush to wave at them or call them or even get closer.
When you get so used to being invisible, you start to wonder if you ever want to be noticed.
However, Annie and her flagrant need for attention, see differently and interrupt my spying. She trots over, nuzzling against the first leg she meets.
Akiza turns and, albeit a little stunned, picks her up. She smiles and says a few things, making everyone else face her.
Which then turns into everyone facing me.
You couldn't just respect my wishes could you, Annie? I made up my mind to stay hidden and out of the way and you couldn't respect it?
What's a girl got to do to get away around here?
Akiza strolls on over and I don't know what to do. How do you get out of a situation like this? Seeing everyone staring at me in the background makes thinking even harder. Looking past Akiza brings me to the eyes of the small green-haired girl and, automatically, the tingling reappears.
Things get hazy. I know I'm standing but I feel like I'm falling.
I wake up thinking that I'm still in the park. But the sky was never this blue and the grass was never this green, so where of all places can I possibly be?
"Dreaming, of course," I groan, sitting upright..
It's a lot like the dream I had before where Mom disappeared and there was nothing. It's a lot more pleasant but there's still more nothing. So I get up and walk.
That's the goal of dreaming, right? To have something happen by the time you wake up?
And just like that, I'm at a gate. Big and bulky, creaky and rusted. It's not locked, oddly enough, and all it takes to open it is a little extra weight. It swings open and now a village stands before me. Brick-built houses sit aside cobblestone roads.
I hate how quickly dreams transition. They're too much like life.
A shop with a CLOSED sign on the door is the next thing I pass. A bakery, huh? A bakery with no bakers or customers. No lights on. But bread is out and that's good, right?
Strange, yet (possibly?) good.
Past the bakery and some other buildings, I find a fountain. I sit along the edge and splash water onto my face. Hair's in dire need of a brushing, not to mention how red my cheeks are.
I slink onto the ground and push my hands into my face; maybe this will wake me up.
Meow.
"Annie!"
But there's no one. I sit some more and push my eyes some more and hope that whatever this dream is supposed to bring will just come already.
Meow.
"Nope," my head shakes. "Not looking this time."
But just like in the park, a weight rests upon my head. I reach up, and pull whatever it may be down into my line of sight.
This, despite its uncanny resemblance to something she might cough up, is definitely not Annie. It's a hairball with legs. Its big eyes residing on most of its face look very pleased to see me and it makes another noise.
"Oh, so you're the meowing sound I heard. Where did you come from?"
Right on cue it floats up above, lingering in my presence for just a second before floating off down the street. I hop up and chase after it.
Three intersections and a block later brings us to a bridge. The flying fluff-ball crosses over, and waits at the end for me to catch up. Then it flies on, this pace slower than the last.
More grass erupts from the space after the bridge and we trek on for a little longer. I follow blindly until the rough fur of the creature hits my face.
"What's wrong?" I ask, looking around it.
Blurred figures apparently.
He hovers to them in an instant and they greet him wholeheartedly. But the thing is—I can't hear a word of it. No laughing or noises; the only reason I know they're communicating is by the smiles on their faces and the wrinkles produced from their closed eyes.
As we stand there, they begin to notice me and make an end to their noiseless chatter. Wait, I've seen these creatures before. The kids back at Martha's use some of these monsters when they duel!
I'm realizing way too much, of course, and don't even see what's right in front of me. My feet stagger back, but it also gives me a better view of this serpent that has parted the crowd.
And I see, from inches too close to the ground, that this creature is rather beautiful. Not fearsome nor alarming, regal more than anything. It leans closer toward me, and places a claw against my head.
I'm afraid of course, but I can't take myself away.
The hope that it will speak to me fades, as does everything else. In shimmers, the creatures and grass and sky float from my eyes like light bugs fly on summer nights. I'm just left feeling warm and unaware and tingly and relieved.
But I'm waking up and I can only imagine to what.
Woah, wait a sec. What just happened? If you wanna find out, ya gotta stay tuned!
TTFN