Dream Bound: Book One | ✓ [COMPLETE]

Dream Bound - Chapter One [edited]

                                              Dream Bound

                                               Chapter One

                                                   day one

People say that dreaming is the best way we can get in touch with our fantasies. That if we really want to experience something so unimaginably wonderful, so amazing, all we need to do is sleep. Put your mind and feelings into it, and sure enough, you’ll dream of it. They also say that dreaming is another way to grant your own wishes. How did that saying go? Follow your dreams? Perhaps that was it. It was too early to remember properly. I detested being awake, which was the current state I was in.

 Sighing, I flipped the calendar right side up. I had woken up with it in my arms, all scrunched up. In bold letters, the word December smiled up at me. Amidst the glossy black and white design of the calendar, each square box was messily smeared with bright red check marks.

 Patiently waiting for my mother to call, “Ivy, dear!” like she always did, I counted the boxes. So far, nineteen boxes had been colored red. Just when I was beginning to think the whole calendar had been color-coded red, I saw that the markings stopped on the box of January first. Frowning, I trailed my fingers over the smooth, cold page. The colors didn’t smear. They had been dry for quite some time, I realized.

 A total of thirty-two boxes had been shaded in red. Just to make sure, I sporadically flipped through the pages, breezing past the other months, and back again. But that was it. Shrugging my shoulders up, I tossed the calendar aside and marched over to my door. If my mother wasn’t going to hurry me along, I’d best do it myself.

 Flinging my bedroom door open, I poked my head out into the hallway. It was empty, cold. The strange thing was, it was barren. A chill swept over my body, sending shivers tumbling down my spine. I held my arms close to my body and lifted my foot, stepping away from my room.

 Peeking down the staircase, I shivered again. “Mom?” A long, mute minute dragged by. She didn’t respond.

 Irritation was quickly surpassing my moment of confusion. Why was she being so quiet? Gripping the chipped, wooden banister, I flew down the stairs and came to a skidding halt in the foyer. Something was off; another cold chill caressed my skin.

 My mother was nowhere. I checked the kitchen, the living room, even the backyard. Icy, rock solid snow greeted my bare feet as I stood out on the deck, craning my neck.

 A gust of wind billowed past, skirting a few stray newspapers around. They scuttled by, whispering along the ground. I stamped my feet in place to keep warm in the frigid temperatures. Giving up then, I went back inside, slamming the door behind me. I tugged at the ends of my greasy, mocha-colored hair. I needed a shower; I had school in about an hour.

 The steaming water warmed my numb skin. Standing in the glass shower cubicle, I hugged my arms to my chest. If my mom wanted to be an insensitive mother this morning, then she could suit herself.

 I wrung my hands through my hair, yanking at the knots and tangles. My hair, though it only reached the middle of my back, needed a trim. Badly. It dreadfully reminded me of something you would find in the sewers.

 After my shower, I stood before the foggy mirror. Leaning forward, I held my towel up with one hand and wiped the steam away with the other. It withered away in a slow manner, revealing my dripping, tired self. Before the misty steam could gather again, I toweled myself off and got dressed.