Bitter Dreams

I had a dream last night. The first time in years. Do you remember my last dream? It was perfect.Everything was perfect. And then you left. I never dreamt again, until now, that is. But this dream wasn't like any of the others.

I stood at the top of the cliff, the one we used to play on. And I looked around. It was like the last dream. Except you weren't there. You had left; and you had stolen part of my heart. Why? It felt like a small hole was there, right in the middle. It hurt. Something started tearing at it, ripping it open. The hole grew, spreading across my chest, until a gaping hole was all that was left. Remember that necklace you gave me? With the silver heart? I was wearing it, and it hung down, right in the middle of the hole. I guess it was the only heart I have left.

I started crying. But it wasn't tears. It was oil. As it dripped down my cheeks, it left a trail of glistening black skin. The black spread across my body, covering me. My eyes were no longer that blue that you loved so dearly, but a deep, brooding green. My hair, you always said you wanted me to dye it, was a shimmering silver, like the moon. Remember how you used to love watching it with me? Up on the roof at night, with the stars.

Remember that dress I wore, the one you said was like snow? In my dream, it was crimson. And somehow I knew, it was dyed with blood. The blood of those who loved, those who cared, those who stayed. I killed them with my hands; with my claws. And in my dream, I promised that I would kill you. I slit a line across my neck with my finger, and as the blood dripped down off my heart, I smiled. Then the sun rose, and I melted into a shadow.

It's funny, how we often confuse memories with dreams.