I am Addison, a girl who catches dreams and never sleeps. I am only fifteen, doctors have done so many tests on me, of why I could not sleep, or why I never looked tired. My life had changed when I was only five, my mother had died, and my father was gone. I was left with my Grandmother, who practices witchcraft. Some of our neighbors think that she had put a spell on me so I would never sleep, or that I am a witch just like her. But I'm not, I am as normal as any other girl, I just never sleep.
Every day I wonder, what is wrong with me? But when I ask my Grandmother she smiles and says, "There is nothing wrong with you, my child. You are simply different from the mortals you live around. You will soon find out what you are, and why you can not sleep, but you can dream."
I never dreamt though, her words did not mean a thing to me, until my fifteenth birthday. Oh, how I wish I could forget that day, but it is burnt in my memory. That day was the change of my life forever, and it would never be the same.
* * *
"Granny!" I yelled, walking into the house.
"I am in the kitchen, my child!" She yelled back.
I set down my things by the door and walked into the kitchen. Grandmother was by her potion cabinet, looking for something. "Granny, what are you doing?"
She turned towards me and held up and bottle. "This is extremely important," she whispered, walking over to the fireplace. Grandmother's white hair was glowing, as she poured the potion in the boiling cauldron.
I gasped as I seen different colors spit from the cauldron. It was extraordinary. "Amazing, is it not?" Grandmother asked, smiling at me.
"It is very amazing, Granny."
"I am glad you think so. Are you going out tonight?" She asked walking back to the potion cabinet.
"No, I'm staying here tonight."
"Oh, good. At midnight then," Grandmother mumbled as she put the bottle in the cabinet, and shut it.
"At midnight?" I asked.
She turned and looked confused. "Your birthday, my child. Have you forgotten?"
"No, but what is at midnight, Granny?"
"My child, do not go looking for trouble at midnight, it is not good for you to be wandering around at the time. You need to be in your room with your doors and windows locked, and watch the full moon. I will be in the hallway, waiting. At exactly twelve o' one, I will let you out of your room, my child."
"But why Granny?"
"You will find out soon, my child. Now hurry along," Grandmother said cautiously.
I looked at her for a minute, then went upstairs to my room. I sat on my bed and watched the clock. Eleven o' clock. I sighed. What was she talking about? I thought.
At eleven fifty-five, Grandmother ran upstairs, and shut my door. "Lock everything! Watch the moon! Five minutes, my child, no time to waste!" Grandmother yelled. I did what she said and sat on the window seat, watching the moon. I heard Grandmother say one minute, and I seen the moon change to blood red. I did not gasp, I did not do anything. Then the clock rang midnight.
The moon looked as if it was bleeding. I started beating on the window screaming in a different language. I kept looking at the moon, it was getting bigger, dripping more and more blood. I screamed louder, beating more on the window. I wasn't breathing, I could not breathe. Tears filled my eyes, as I kept looking at the moon. The blood was draining from it. I cried, and screamed. I felt as if I was being set on fire, as if someone poured gasoline on me and lit a match.
Soon, the moon had returned to how it was before, and I was thrown onto the floor. Grandmother opened my door with the key she held in her hand, and looked at me, she cried.
"I am sorry, my child," she whispered, and handed me a glass of water. I grabbed it, and the water turned blood red, just like the moon. I screamed and threw the glass at the wall. It shattered into pieces, water covered the wall. "You will soon find out what you are, my child," Grandmother backed out of my room and shut the door.
* * *
I went downstairs at seven in the morning, and seen Grandmother talking to a boy, who looked eighteen. "Granny?" I said. They both looked at me.
"My child, this is Nixon, a grandson of an old friend of mine. He has came with good news," Grandmother said.
"What's the news?" I asked.
"You are the dreamer, my child."
"What do you mean? I do not dream, and I do not sleep."
"You are a Dreamer," Nixon said.
"What does that mean?" I asked him.
He ran his fingers through his black hair, and stood up. "It means that you will discover your true powers, and that you will see people's dreams when you are around them. You may dream, but it will not be your dreams, it will be other's dreams."
"Are you a Dreamer?"
"Yes, to a point. But you are the prophecy."
"No, I can't be like that. I am a mortal! Not a crazy person!" I yelled, running upstairs to my room. I uncovered the old mirror that hung on my wall, and looked at my reflection. I had changed. My hair wasn't light brown anymore, it was black. My eyes were a piercing shade of blue, and I was pale. I started to cry. "What is wrong with me?" I said to myself.
"Once again, nothing, my child. You are just seemingly different from others around you," Grandmother said, standing behind me with Nixon by her side.
"Why me?" I asked looking at her reflection in the mirror.
"Why not you? Your mother was a Dreamer, now it is your turn, my child," Grandmother said smiling.
"She couldn't have been a Dreamer, she slept," I whispered.
"So she did, my child. Nixon will explain. I have to be somewhere. Goodbye my dears, be aware of the evil in you," Grandmother slipped out of the room and went down the stairs and out the front door silently.
I turned around and looked at Nixon. "I'm sorry," Nixon said.
"Why?" I asked.
"You're not happy about what you are, and I have to explain everything to you. And you are just going to get mad," Nixon whispered.
"Oh," I said. I sat down on the window seat and stared out the window, at the house across the street.
"Do you want me to explain, or no?" He asked, sitting next to me.
"Go ahead, I'm listening."
"You're not like your grandmother, are you?"
I looked at him. "What do you mean?"
"You don't do witchcraft, and you don't talk like her," he said.
"I'm afraid to do witchcraft."
"Oh, I see."
"Are you going to tell me about Dreamers now?" I asked looking back out the window.
"Yes, well Dreamers are people who can see others dreams, and their darkest secrets. Your mother was a Dreamer, and she was a mighty fine Dreamer at that. She could see millions of dreams at once and knew who was dreaming them. Only a few Dreamers can do that. The prophecy is about a Dreamer who becomes the extraordinary gift to all of us Dreamers. The prophecy states that on the Dreamers fifteenth birthday, they will see the moon at its tragic life, alone, and watch it bleed."
"My mother told me a story of a girl who seen the moon bleed," I whispered.
"What was the story?" Nixon asked.
I looked at him, sadly. "Once on a full moon night, a girl who turns fifteen seen the moon bleed on her fifteenth birthday. She will scream, and cry, and turn water to blood in her very hands. The soul will be sucked out of her the last second before twelve o' one."
"You were thrown to the ground weren't you?" Nixon asked in a whisper.
I nodded. It felt horrible when I was thrown to the ground, it felt as if I a little part of me had died.
We sat in silence until we heard Grandmother come in. "I better get going," Nixon said, getting up. I watched him head towards my bedroom door, and he turned towards me. "You think you are a freak, but you're not, you are wonderful," he said smiling at me, then left.
"Granny, why are we here?" I asked looking around the open area, there were so many Dreamers.
"To control your powers, my child. Oh look, there is Nixon, right over there," Grandmother pointed over to an old oak tree. "You may go see him, it is alright, I will be over by the fire with Delilah."
Grandmother walked towards the fire over to Delilah, and I walked over to the old oak tree. Nixon looked up at me and smiled. "I'm sorry, did you want to sit here?"
"Yes, but I would love to sit next to you," I said looking in his gray eyes. He nodded, and moved over to make room for me. I sat down, and looked at his hand. There was a scar, from his thumb to his wrist. "What happened?" I gasped, taking hold of his hand.
"Nothing," he whispered, looking away from me.
"This isn't nothing, Nixon. Tell me," I said, entangling my fingers in his. He looked at me then, his gray eyes warm with feeling. "What happened?"
"I was looking for you, and the dark angles didn't want that. They said it would destroy the prophecy if I had found you that day."
"Dark angles?" I asked, confused.
"The dark angles are Dreamers who carry out the prophecy, but most of them are Dark Dreamers. They plant the most terrible dreams in mere mortals thoughts, and imagination. They try to destroy the prophecy."
"Which kind did you run into?"
"The ones who wants to destroy you."
"So they did this to you?"
Nixon nodded, and held me close to him. "They will not destroy you," he whispered in my ear.
I blushed, and smiled at him.
* * *
"My child, you should be out and about," Grandmother said.
"But if I do that, I have a chance of running into people who will transfer me their dreams, or people who want to destroy me," I told her.
Grandmother shook her head, and patted my back. "My lovely child, you will be expected to do such great things. You are a lovely person, no one will destroy you, because you have love in your heart. Remember that, my child. The people who love you, protect you. Now, child, you need to run along and have fun."
I smiled up at her, and walked out of the house. I walked down the old country road, looking up at the night sky. So many Dreamers count on me, I thought, I can't even count on myself.
"Addison?" Someone said behind me. I turned around and saw Nixon, standing there. "You're out of the house?"
"Yeah, Granny told me that I need to be out and about," I told him.
"Well then let me show you where you can be 'out and about'." He grabbed my hand and pulled me along down the road. About ten minutes later we were at a lake. "I know its not that romantic, but it's nice," he told me.
"It's lovely," I whispered.
He smiled, and pulled me up on a rock. "Look into the lake, and tell me what you see," he said.
I looked into the black, misty lake, and saw my reflection, then it changed. It was me when I was five. I seen my mom's body, lying on the bathroom floor, and bottle of pills that laid beside her. I started to cry, and so did my younger self in the reflection. The scene changed, and it was when I saw the bleeding moon. I closed my eyes, and fell into Nixon's arms, crying, and screaming.
"It's okay," he whispered, holding me to him.
I cried, in his arms for what seemed like forever. I looked at him when I stopped crying, and he was just watching the water, like it was evil.
"I shouldn't have brought you here," he whispered.
"Why?" I asked.
Nixon looked at me with tears in his eyes, "You seen the past, no one does in this lake."
"What do you mean?"
"Your mom, the bleeding moon, it was the past that you tried to block out of your memories."
"How do you know all that?"
"I tapped into your thoughts when you were looking into the lake. I'm sorry," he whispered.
I looked away, up at the sky, and breathed in deep. "It's fine," I sighed.
"We should get going," he whispered. I nodded, and we got up and left. We walked back down the country road, silently, hand in hand. There was a shadow that passed in front of me, and I stopped, afraid. Nixon looked at me, and asked what was wrong. "Shadow," I whispered, pointing in front of me. The shadow was just lingering there, as if waiting to grab me. Nixon followed my finger and seen it. He pushed me behind him, and I balled my hands in a fist. Nixon walked slowly up to the shadow.
"Marlin, what are you doing here?" Nixon asked the shadow. The shadow's face appeared. He looked almost like Nixon.
"You should know why I am here, brother," the shadow said, in a evil dark voice.
"You are not my brother, you never were," Nixon said.
"Oh so you say. Well only because you knew about the prophecy, and what I was planning to do."
"What are you talking about?"
"The only reason for I am not your true brother anymore. It is all because of her," he pointed to me.
"Wait what?" I asked stepping forward.
"Well Addison, for I have been in love with you, before you were born, and yet so is Nixon. But I am a Dark Angel, I can not be with you. I must have to kill you, or at least attempt," Marlin said.
"Why do you have to be a Dark Angel?" I asked, taking another step forward.
"Well, I don't know," he whispered.
"Then why try and kill someone you truely love? If only you do truely love me."
Marlin watched me as I pushed Nixon aside, and stood in front of him, staring into his black eyes. "I have to," he said.
"No you don't, no one is making you," I whispered. "You shouldn't have to kill me. Nixon doesn't try to kill me, he tries to protect me."
"Only because he is the good!"
"Why aren't you?"
He was silent, and shook his head. "I can not be."
"Because before I had a vision of you, I was already a Dark Angel."
"You can always change," I whispered.
"He can't Addison," Nixon said.
I looked at him, and seen his eyes full of tears. "He is right, my love," Marlin said.
"I want you to change," I whispered. "All this hate is ruining me."
Text: all photos came from Photobucket
Publication Date: 04-05-2011
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