random drabble.
When normal people woke up it was normally a slow awakening. Their eyes would flutter open as the dream dissipated into the morning light. They would roll over and fight off the sun’s rising. And slowly, but surely, they would waken to go about their daily lives.
Phillipa hadn’t woken that peacefully since she was ten.
She was seven-years-old when her father came back from his disappearance. And though they never talked about it in detail, Phillipa always knew it had something to do with her mother’s death. Instead they progressed through their lives. And when Phillipa was ten-years-old her father started sharing the trade with her.
The only thing that worried Phillipa was her lack of a natural talent for the trade.
Phillipa desired so strongly to live up to her family legacy, but when her father tested her own abilities and she came up short she had felt nothing but disappointment. All around her were people full of amazing talents and skills that they used in the field of dreaming to do things that would blow anyone’s mind away. Yet little Phillipa was left behind in the rush of it all.
As the years went by Phillipa tried not to show her own disappointment in her own shortcomings. She wanted so badly to live up to her mother’s legacy and even if she couldn’t naturally she would work all her life to obtain it through hard work and diligence. She spent her youth doing ballet like her mother had. Learning to cook as her mother had once done for them. Taking care of James as her mother once had.
And always practicing.
Phillipa’s dream world was nothing like what a child’s dream should have been. Children should have dreamt fantasies or futures or desires. Instead her dream world was full of her reality. And she would spend all of her time in these dreams trying to harness her skills as… anything. An architect or a forger or just someone who could manipulate dreams well enough to find one’s secrets. But even that didn’t work for Phillipa.
Because Phillipa had a secret. She had something in her head that she dared not share with her father. But her father wasn’t the only one haunted by her mother’s presence. Lurking at the edges of every dream was Mal’s taunting presence. She never spoke to her mother, never saw her, never heard her voice. But she could feel her. Always there. Always watching her. As if watching her every failure in every dream until suddenly-
She would always wake, gasping for breath. As though her mother’s presence had stifled the air out of her in her sleep.
Phillipa had never shared this information with anyone. But the truth of the matter was that though she could barely remember her mother’s own face outside of a photograph, Mal was always right at the edges of her consciousness.
Phillipa hadn’t woken that peacefully since she was ten.
She was seven-years-old when her father came back from his disappearance. And though they never talked about it in detail, Phillipa always knew it had something to do with her mother’s death. Instead they progressed through their lives. And when Phillipa was ten-years-old her father started sharing the trade with her.
The only thing that worried Phillipa was her lack of a natural talent for the trade.
Phillipa desired so strongly to live up to her family legacy, but when her father tested her own abilities and she came up short she had felt nothing but disappointment. All around her were people full of amazing talents and skills that they used in the field of dreaming to do things that would blow anyone’s mind away. Yet little Phillipa was left behind in the rush of it all.
As the years went by Phillipa tried not to show her own disappointment in her own shortcomings. She wanted so badly to live up to her mother’s legacy and even if she couldn’t naturally she would work all her life to obtain it through hard work and diligence. She spent her youth doing ballet like her mother had. Learning to cook as her mother had once done for them. Taking care of James as her mother once had.
And always practicing.
Phillipa’s dream world was nothing like what a child’s dream should have been. Children should have dreamt fantasies or futures or desires. Instead her dream world was full of her reality. And she would spend all of her time in these dreams trying to harness her skills as… anything. An architect or a forger or just someone who could manipulate dreams well enough to find one’s secrets. But even that didn’t work for Phillipa.
Because Phillipa had a secret. She had something in her head that she dared not share with her father. But her father wasn’t the only one haunted by her mother’s presence. Lurking at the edges of every dream was Mal’s taunting presence. She never spoke to her mother, never saw her, never heard her voice. But she could feel her. Always there. Always watching her. As if watching her every failure in every dream until suddenly-
She would always wake, gasping for breath. As though her mother’s presence had stifled the air out of her in her sleep.
Phillipa had never shared this information with anyone. But the truth of the matter was that though she could barely remember her mother’s own face outside of a photograph, Mal was always right at the edges of her consciousness.