Reality's Red
Words: 416
Inspired by a nightmare I had a few months ago.
She sat outside on the porch, relaxing. The sky is perfectly clear and the air is almost humid, but it's just normal March weather. Donna stretches her toes into the sunlight, clocking her face with her hand even though she's in the shade.
She tries to follow the chatter of the neighbors—they have so many guests, it's a wonder none of them are talking to her—but it's too far away and uninteresting for her to put any real effort into the eavesdropping.
Donna's mother and grandfather are inside, she can see them pattering away in the kitchen. She stretches her toes again, this time noticing an orange goo, like wet chalk or shredded carrots, on the stepping stones in front of her. Donna knows she needs to get up and wash it away, because it'll be easy the water from the hose will just dissolve it.
It's been a few minutes, now, of her just sitting and contemplating. But the dirt won't disappear by itself, and she's getting up to fetch the hose, which is rolled up on the grass. It's easy to unwind, and even easier to turn on. Light mist flares sideways from it, missing Donna completely.
Then she looks away, because someone is calling her name. It's James (or John or Will) from primary school or daycare, she can't remember which. He looks the same now as he did them, which she should know because he's right next door.
He's gesturing quickly towards something in the distance. The sky, Donna sees. It's folding itself in half horizontally, the earth underneath crease faintly smoking.
And there's a part of it, smaller than the first, that's folding itself right in front of them, getting bigger and closer.
Donna drops the hose and, chest tight, runs to the front door until her mother is only a few feet in front of her.
"It just came down."
Her mother's puzzled, Donna knows, and her grandfather's nowhere to be seen. She walks to one of the large windows, and the sky's still folding, almost directly in front of her.
She doesn't know what to do, and there's a blue square dancing in front of her, which makes her feel safe, but she knows it's all—
Why are red crayons red?
Waking up, Donna grappled at the random lifeline, and for a minute, all she knew was the question and the Doctor's incessant pounding on her bedroom door, and as he opened it, she could finally breathe.