Water.

Ryan Mitchell

 

All I can remember was the sunset. It radiated past the trees, falling my eyes with glee and amazement, the heat warming my cheeks. I wanted to catch the light before it completely went dark. I ran outside, into the fresh cut grass, moist, wicking off my toes. I jumped to catch the last ray, but the physical restraints of reality forced me to realize that was impossible to grab. I rested on the backyard grass, with green stains on my corduroys and bare feet. The moist from the grass started to gather in one spot on my pants, but I did not mind. I could not move my feet, so I attempted to move my arms, failure. I was paralyzed, I could not move, my mind was struggling to move but my body left it for neglect. The thunder becomes the base with the strikes as a lightshow, raindrops circulated around my pants and they were drenched, so much a puddle formed around it. My eye lids became heavy and I fight my way to open them wide. I strained my eye to see in the corner of it of my house lifting, raising, I did not want to end up left alone outside, but I still couldn’t move.  I watched helplessly as the castle rose into the sky. I gave up my struggle and my eyes closed. I opened them to find myself in my house, in my room. I was quite sure there was a storm in my room but I was the only subject that went through weathering, actually half of me. I looked down to my Mickey Mouse PJs and saw my embarrassment. I jumped off the top of the bunk bed and walked down the stairs. Any creek I made I stopped motion, to make sure no one would wake up. I threw my blank and pants into the washer, satisfied I covered up the evidence for embarrassment. To my surprise I looked back to see my Father at the door of the laundry room. He smiled and nodded. I threw other clothing material to make it common to be washing in the middle of the dark.