Kyra comes to face her worst enemy in the realm of dreams.
(Kyra, is an original character of mine. To clarify, this isn't a world like ours, my friends, this is a world of fantasy. And she is not a human like you and I. Not to say she isn't human enough, but there are enough genetic alterations to her group of people that they are considered separate from the human race)
God it feels so good! The wet grass whipping at my bare calves, the
leaves rushing by in a blur of emerald… I'm not running, there is no way that this could be called running. I'm flying. My feet are hardly touching the ground, and in the brief moments in which they do I feel nothing but the softness of the soil on the pads of my feet. I could race on like this forever with the feel of wind in my face, the branches
carelessly grazing against my skin.
But then something changes. It's not just me anymore. I'm no longer alone in my paradise. Someone is behind me, but fast approaching. How did I not notice this before? My ears perk up now, alert and listening for their imminent pounce because they most certainly have the lope of a predator. Except that pounce must not be as forthcoming as I thought it was because it chooses instead to keep pace with me.
It’s a he. I see this as he matches my speed. A caramel-haired he.
It is very rare when someone can surpass my speed and it messes with my head because it’s painfully obvious that he could pass me if he wished to. I must know what this person is! I take only a moment to peer to the side… and suddenly I'm off step...
Because he flashes at me this cold, lifeless stare which leaves me numb; a feeling that spreads from the inside out until my pace slows then finally falters. It is nothing less than my inhuman reaction time that keeps me from falling face first on the ground when I catch a root at a bad angle.
Now that he's standing in front of I can tell that he is masculine because of his build, though his heritage still escapes me. As if to show off, he's parading around in just ragged shorts, his stomach muscles displayed for the world to see. His ears are caramel like his hair, a rarity in these times, and they are almost fawn-like in shape. And never before have I seen tanned skin such as his on someone not of Caesia descent… But his eyes! I cannot believe that it escaped my notice for so long! Those are not Caesian eyes. Those striking crimson eyes stare down at me with an undeserved sort of judgment… they are the sort of color which I've never witnessed naturally except in the spilt blood of my adversaries.
And yet… somehow I've seen them before.
Now, I am certainly not short. Even by Avarian standards, I am tall, but this man towers above me and is very much a threat to my well-being. My tail would not twitch so fitfully otherwise. Despite my extensive analysis of this person, I'm on my feet, giving him my most predatory look. A warning of sorts you could say; a "Get the hell back or I'll rip your throat out" type of deal.
Never in my life has someone reacted to me as he does. He laughs. That
incredulous fool laughs at me. Which led me to believe one of two things; he doesn’t know who he’s dealing with, or he does and still feels confident. And that second option, though I will never admit it to any living soul, has me scared.
Before I have the split second I need to choose between the fight or flight instincts, my neck is already in his grasp, the air being choked from me. His movement was so fast! Even my sharp perception didn't detect it. He flashes at me his tooth-filled grin, and slams my body helpless into the tree, holding me there until my vision turns
into a comforting black.
Well, at least I thought it did, but I could be wrong. After all, how does one say that they've fainted when their point of view has only been altered? I'm sitting at the top of the tree now, in spirit at least, watching my body go limp. Let me tell you, it is the oddest sensation, watching yourself but not feeling anything. You don't even get that deadened feeling in your body, just… the overcoming sensation of nonexistence.
And then the scene changes again, and I can feel my spirit once more within my body, and I know as much because the feeling of life has returned to me. I am supplied with memories that I honestly have no recollection of experiencing. Memories of waking up chained to the floor, of pointed needles injecting me with their unfamiliar liquids. Very vague reminiscences of the medicine-men around me and the strange technology which beeps erratically upon my awakening.
It's as simple as that; "You had forgotten… and then you remembered". I think that was a quote from someone, but I… my mind is not as sharp as I know it to be. I feel…my thoughts, are scattered. It takes more strength that I can seem to muster to keep on a singular train of thought. But most familiar of all, the most striking memory is the sight of the red-eyed monster always in the corner with his eyes ever focused on me, his fingers dipped in blood that I can only assume to be my own. But that would mean that I…
I can't feel my body! My dulled perception has blocked out that thought until now, but now that I am awake, I realize. I realize that I'm not awake. I look to my side, and see my body, limp on the table. Wait, that can't be right. If that's me over there, then who am I?
Whose body is this?
I am staring through glassy eyes that cannot be mine. I am not me. These thoughts are not all mine. And then there is the most horrifying sensation of being pulled back, blocked out. This time when my vision fades, it seems more final. And this thought of nothingness terrifies me more than anything else.
And then, as always, I wake up.