2nd Person POV (Uncreative and can't think of a title) :P


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Zachrock

5:09pm Jan 6 2013 (last edited on 1:40pm Jan 7 2013)

Normal User


Posts: 337
Trying my hand at 2nd person POV. I've put a common theme, 'Everyone has flaws, learn to accept them, blah blah blah', into a neat little story that was inspired by the Cyid. :P This is just a short story, and I'd love to know what you think. It may be a teeny bit confusing, but dreams tend to be confusing and baffling and I wanted to incorporate that into the story. If you see any grammar mistakes, please point them out. :P Sorry if it sucks, I usually write 'cool' sci-fi and action stories.



You are dreaming.

But what is strange is that you somehow know it. You can't control your dream -- although you wish you could -- but you walk around, exploring the hidden doors and tunnels of your mind in marvel. Many things you see leave you in a quandary, but they're just dreams. And you know that most of the time, dreams are unsolvable riddles.

Suddenly, the dreamscape ripples, and transforms into a vibrant, wide-open grassland. The sun's rays scintillate down, and sub-consciously you feel a light wind blow by. As far as the eye can see there's an endless plain of grass. You've always fantasized of such a peaceful, relaxing place where you can fall into dark green grass and listen to the chorus of canaries in the recess of your thoughts. It was a hypnagogic paradise. You are here, but yet, you aren't.

As you stand back up, you're alerted by tiny footsteps. And as you slowly turn around, you see you, only younger. The short russet hair, the big blue eyes complimented by flecks of green, the oval face; it's an evocative duplicate of yourself, only characterized differently by an innocence that only children possess. That innocence that you often find yourself reminiscing on in reality. Then, as if on cue, memories of your childhood begin to manifest themselves into your dream, phasing in and out of the air. The memory of your last birthday causes a bittersweet smile to form across your lips. The cake falling to the floor and your father promising to make it up to you. Though you know he never did.

And then, it all disappears. Darkness slithers across your paradise like a plague, devouring the grass and memories and drowning out the sweet, sweet song of the birds. You feel a whish, and when everything becomes silent, so do you. Even though your eyes are as wide as they can go, you see nothing but darkness, as if you were sleeping. You don't like the atmosphere of this place, so you try imagining somewhere else in hopes that you'll be there.

But it's futile.

The thought of being stuck here starts  to chain your hope, so when the sound of a light clicking on cuts the silence, you jump. The darkness isn't fully gone, but the little bit of illumination comforts you.

You don't know how, but you realize this as the darker part of your mind. The abyss of all your fears, secrets, and lost dreams. A siren suddenly resonates in your ears. Red and blue lights flood your surroundings, and you see your old brother being dragged to jail. His facial ex[injection]pression is vicious. You cry for the police to let him go, but they seem to not hear you. You see your father trying to reason with your brother's captors, to no avail. You turn your head away from the scene. Finally, the image fades away, and the plane morphs into the worst day of your life. The worst. You know you don't want to see it, and you turn to run, to flee from that day.

But you're frozen into place. And you can only cry, scream, and beg for it to go as you see your house burn down, the empty body of your mother carried out. The paramedics lift her onto the stretcher. Her skin is black, burnt from the fire that you know you're guilty of starting. A wail escapes your throat and you punch the floor. You tried so hard to put that memory away. You tried so hard.

Yet you're reminded of it in a dream. "Please, make it go away," you plead to yourself. "Please." You cover your ears and squeeze your eyes shut. You want it to go away. You'd rather see anything but this -- be reminded of anything but this. You're left in the dark, but part of you is not entirely clueless as to why your mind brought you here. You know you push your bad memories down to forget them. You fight the truth about yourself in a failed attempt to be someone 'better'. You pretend your secrets aren't there to keep from feeling guilty. But all of this is you, and everyone has flaws.

You stand up and wipe the tears away. You can feel the dreamscape fading away, and your mind projecting back to reality. As this happens, you wonder, was this dream meant to happen? Was it meant to happen to open your eyes to reality? You realize it took surrealism to help you even acknowledge the truth about yourself, and because of that you're partially ashamed, but partially grateful.

You're glad to finally have some relief.







: )
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