HANDS

HANDS

A Story by Writer At 13
"

This was a dream that I had, and I actually doubted it was just a dream.

"

HANDS

by Writer At 13


                Dreams. Sometimes they feel like reality, then you would realize they weren’t. They sometimes feel like you were really there, but you realize you weren’t. Putting your heart in your dreams stops you by the moment you wake up, even though you were scared, happy, or sad in it. But sometimes, you don’t really know if it was a dream or not. Maybe it was. But you have doubts.


It was 4:32 in the morning as I checked it in my cellular phone, when the sun would still hide and the skies were hardly blue. I was awakened by the coldness that teased my shuddering toes. I pulled the pink blanket up to my chest and cuddled my pillow like an infant. Then I shut my heavy eyes slowly like drowsy toddlers do.


                Hands. Blue hands. They crept to my stomach slowly. Red hands. They did the same. I saw them, but then my eyes were closed. My body felt stiff and uneasy yet shaky. I tried to twist my body to the right but I couldn’t. I tried to call out my sister’s name but all that came out of my mouth was my breath, lowly screeching like a mute person would do. I tried to turn to the other side, but I could hardly do it. Perspiration started trickling from my scalp. It felt like somebody was stopping me from moving. I stretched my arms and tried to move even just a single inch. But I really couldn’t. Fear filled every corner of me. I tried to move, I really did. I could even see the room, but my eyes were really shut. I could see myself struggling but I didn’t know if I was awake or not.


Then I woke up. My body was still quivering, but it was slowly fading. My mind felt cold. My face and neck were filled with dripping, cold sweat. My heart was racing. I checked my cellular phone again and it was 4:36, just enough to have experienced what I dreamt of. Finishing a scene in a dream would usually feel like an hour. I sat and thought of it again. The feeling of being touched by the skin stained my stomach. I still felt it.


Was it a dream or reality? I thought to myself.

© 2011 Writer At 13


Author's Note

Writer At 13
I'm new! I'm 13 years old from the Philippines and this is my first written composition here in Writerscafe! :D

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...That's kinda scary... (=.=)

Posted 12 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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Added on October 14, 2011
Last Updated on October 14, 2011

Author

Writer At 13
Writer At 13

Philippines



About
I started writing at 8 years old, beginning with short stories, and my passion for writing just keeps on growing. I got a scholarship from Philippine High School for the Arts but I wasn't able to go t.. more..

Writing