A Writer's Journey

Dream Excerpt

Caroline blew out the candles after she had dismissed Magda for the night. Sleep eluded her. Her mind kept spinning, everything crashing down on her. Conversations with her mother, with her brother, with her ladies-in-waiting. As Caroline tossed, searching for a comfortable position, thoughts of her upcoming wedding tormented her.

She sat in her father’s royal apartments. Her wedding was in a few hours, at sunset as tradition dictated. She wore the dress the royal seamstress spent hours creating for this day. It was made of the finest silk, dyed the dark blue shade of the English banners fluttering in the wind. Caroline could see them in the courtyard through the window.

She stood up to get a better view. The banners began to wave frantically as the wind gained power. She watched as they blew off, one by one. Black clouds covered the setting sun, darkening everything. Thunder rumbled in the distance as rain began to pelt the glass panes, obscuring her vision.

Caroline turned from the window, eyes trying to adjust to the darkness. It was as if her eyes were blindfolded. She felt her face but nothing was covering her eyes. Caroline lowered them to grope around the blackness surrounding her. She found her way around the desk, trying to feel for any candles. Finding none, she stumbled to the door and opened to a blinding light.

When the light faded, she was standing in the courtyard. Though the rain fell around her, Caroline remained dry. She was alone; who would venture outdoors in this weather? As she stood, watching the drops splash upon the stones, the gates opened. A figure appeared, but Caroline couldn’t make out who it was. She could see the figure was riding a black stallion into the area.

Caroline felt chilled immediately. The rain was transformed into hail. These hurled down on her, hurting as they hit. Caroline tried to take cover but found she could not move. “Who are you?” she asked. “Why are you here?”

The figure did not respond.

“Do you know who I am? I am the Princess Caroline, daughter of the late King Alexandre. I demand you tell me who you are!”

The figure did not respond.

“How can you stand there in the rain? Aren’t you cold?”

“I like the cold,” the figure finally said, “and the dark. I am its master.”

Caroline knew she was slack-jawed. She didn’t care if it was unladylike. She didn’t care if it was rude. She cared about escaping the courtyard. She cared about never seeing this figure again.

She cared about being warm again.

(Copyright 2012 Alexandria Brim)
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