It was coming closer, closer. A huge hulking shadow, loping towards me slowly, as if enjoying my terror. Many beady eyes stared down at me, glinting in the pale sliver of silver light cast down by the weak moon above. On this night, the stars no longer shown from above. Everything was dark and cold.The world seemed terrifying to me. For it very close now. I tried to run, but the ground was like peanut butter, holding me where I stood. I knew that any second it would be upon me. I had only one defense left. I crouched down on the soft grass, ready to spring myself upwards. But it was already too late. The enormous thing was too close. In seconds I would be dead... I woke up covered in an icy sweat, panting as if I had just run a marathon. "Just a dream...just a dream..." I murmured to myself, trying to slow my ragged breathing. The dream, (or The Nightmare, as I had begun to call it) had visited me in my sleep six nights in a row now.
It would start out as a perfectly wonderful dream. I would be standing in a field in the dead of night. The stars shining, the moon cloaking me in its pure silver light, the grass whispering softly as it swayed back and forth against my knees. I would feel very much at peace with the world. Suddenly, without warning, I would start to rise slowly off of the ground. I would soar through the sky on invisible wings, swooping, gliding through the warm, clear night air. I would feel free as I never had before, spiraling, dancing through the sky.Then, suddenly, I would tumble from the sky like a dodo bird, flightless and feeble. The moon would shrivel and darken, changing from a full glowing disk to a tiny sliver of wan light. Shortly after, an enormous spider would emerge from the gloom, and well... you know the rest.
Tonight it was worse. I threw off my blankets and tumbled out of my bed. I dressed quickly and stumbled down to the kitchen, where I grabbed a Pop Tart and ran outside. I lived in a small cottage on the banks of the Mississippi River. The river to the front, the woods in the back, it all provided a beautiful view. We also had a small pond, which I flounced over to. I sat down, stared into the water, and pondered the mysteries of life. You are probably thinking; What are the mysteries of of life? And I answer you: That's one of them.
Now would probably be a good time to tell YOU about ME. I was 13 years old. My name was, and still is Jenna Felcey. I was tall and wiry, with, long, lustrous black hair that framed my pale face. The features on my face were sharp and narrow. My eyes are a piercing grayish- green. I wasn't very good at sports, but I had a good sense of balance. Despite my total lack of athletic skill, I had one sport that I wasn't half bad at. Downhill skiing. Call me weird, but it was the only time I felt complete serenity. Despite my lack of athletic skill, my mind was always bubbling and churning like a witch's brew, full of worries, ideas, daydreams, stories, jokes and songs. It was like the witch had dumped a whole bunch of stuff - anything and everything you could think of - and was churning it all together constantly. Erasing old ideas, giving me new ones.
Suddenly I heard a voice float out the door from inside. "Jenna Marie Felcey! Get in here this minute!" Doh! Mom was up. I stormed into the kitchen where my mother stood waiting, hands on hips.
"Well?" she demanded.
"Well what?" I shot back.
"WELL why were you outside BEING LAZY when you SHOULD have been WORKING!" she screamed in my face. "The fire place is almost out of wood and it NEEDS MORE!"
"But it SUMMER!" I objected vehemently. "We don't NEED more wood!"
"You never know." she replied darkly. "Now get GOING!"
I stalked back outside, fuming. We lieved in a small house on the banks of the Mississippi River, with the river in the front and the woods behind. The view was beautiful, but I didn't stop to admire it. Mom was ALWAYS insisting that we needed more fire wood, even in the summer. We were the only ones in that little cottage. Just the two of us. Despite your first impression of her, Mom was a nice woman. Really. She just got stressed out trying to raise me on her own. So where's my dad, right? Touchy subject. See..he drowned last year fishing on the river. Older (or indeed any) brothers and/or sisters? Zero. Zip. Zilch. Nada. Good-egg. Interpretation: I have none. Sniff..sniff..See? Now you made me cry.
Back to the story now. So I went to get the firewood. I took most of the afternoon, because the wood shed was quite a ways away. Finally I finished.
I decided that I would take a walk through the woods. Time in them always brought peace and order to my mind. I set off, but before long I decided to stop and rest in my favorite spot. It was merely a large space in between the roots of a huge, ancient oak tree. I sat down and gazed up at the sky through leafy branches. DAppled sunlight fell through it, speckling the ground with patches of brightness. Soon I was dozing off again...
I was back in the field. The moon, the air, everything was the same, except...I knew what was going to happen. So instead of immediately taking off, I sat there, ready, waiting. Soon it emerged. As big as a house. But this time I was not consumed by fear. I was ready to fight. So as soon as it came I launched myself up. Straight up. Irose high above it. As soon as it was right under me, I let gravity take hold of me once more. I plummeted down, down straight towards its back. I came down with so much force, I crushed its back in and pushed it to the ground. I knew it wasn't dead, though. So I repeated my attack. Once more...twice...three times...Finally it was dead. (Doesn't it usually take longer in all the books you read? Well I guess I just got lucky...) It had managed to get me once with its pincers, though. It had caught my leg and crushed it. So much pain. I lay back on the cool grass, staining the ground with my blood. Wake up! I told myself. Wake up...
I was back home, under the tree. But there was something wrong. An unbelievable amount of pain... all in my left leg. It took me half a second to figure out what this meant. I looked down at my leg; it was bloody and mangled. I decided I'd better get moving, so I gingerly stood up, careful to keep all of my weight on my right leg. Hurt like heck, but I couldn't just sit there. I closed my eyes, waiting to black out from the pain. I knew I had to accept the fact that at best I would be confined to a wheelchair for a while, at worst I would be crippled for life. Tears began to leak out of their corners, so I opened my eyes to blink them away. As soon as I had done this, I realized that I was no longer standing on the ground. I was ten feet above it. I smiled. Maybe, I thought to myself, maybe I would be okay...
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