Falling Dreams

Falling Dreams

A Story by Creepy Is My Forte
"

Tuesday always has strange dreams that are horrible and scary, but the worst part is she never forgets them. What is so special about these dreams?

"

            Tuesday Graham often had strange dreams, but the dream she had two nights before prom was very, very strange.

            Everything happening around Tuesday looked normal, but there was that odd dream world effect that all dreams have.

            Tuesday was walking through the gym of her high school in Austin, Texas, and she was wearing a beautiful purple strapless dress with a lovely pink corsage on her wrist. That was where prom was being held in her dream. She was getting bumped into, and the music was going up and down in volume at unexpected times, but what really surprised her was that she was walking hand in hand with a boy, apparently her date. The boy was dressed in a black suit with the jacket opened. She had recognized the boy in her dream. She had seen him around her school before, but they never spoke, she didn’t even remember his name. He was kind of an awkward boy. The song changed into one that would be perfect for a slow dance. Tuesday smiled, and she and her date took a dancing pose. Once they were in a comfortable pose, they started to sway back and forth to the beat of the music. Tuesday was happy in her dream. Suddenly, Tuesday heard a loud bang and the scream of a girl. Tuesday and her date turned toward the sound of the noise. They watched as someone in a black hoodie with the hood pulled over their face push through the crowd with a pistol in their hand. Tuesday couldn’t tell if it was a boy or a girl, but what Tuesday could see was that the person with the gun was heading for Tuesday and her date.

            Tuesday’s date pushed her behind him as if to protect her from the gunman. Time in Tuesday’s dream suddenly slowed down and everything was crystal clear. The gunman pressed the gun against her date’s chest and pulled the trigger. There was another loud bang, identical to the one before, and Tuesday’s eyes instantly snapped away from the gunman and to her date. Blood slowly blossomed on his white dress shirt, Tuesday slowly screamed, and her date slowly fell to the floor of the gym.

            “No!” Tuesday screamed as she shot up in her bed.

            “Tuesday,” her mother shouted, “Are you okay, honey?”

            “Yeah, Mom, I’m fine. I just . . . had a bad dream,” Tuesday called back.

            “Okay, well, hurry up. You have twenty minutes until the bus is here,” Tuesday’s mother reminded her. Tuesday wiped the sweat off of her forehead and stepped out of her bed. Tuesday tried her best to be absorbed in her daily morning routine in an attempt to forget her terrible dream, but the bad thing about Tuesday’s dreams was that she never forgot them like most people do. Each and every dreamed was permanently seared into her memory whether they were good or bad. Tuesday quickly got ready for school well before it was time for the bus. Tuesday took this time to do the homework she didn’t finish last night. When Tuesday was out of tasks her thought flickered back to her dream. She thought it was odd that she had such a terrible dream about a boy whom she had never spoken to. The thought of her dream reminded Tuesday of prom, which reminded her that no one had asked her. She let out a sigh of disappointment then heard the honk of her school bus from outside. “Bye, honey!” Tuesday’s mother said from the upstairs of their house.

            “Bye Mom!” Tuesday yelled as she ran out the front door, backpack in hand. The bus driver opened the bus door and let Tuesday in.

            “Good morning Tuesday,” the bus driver greeted.

            “Good morning Mrs. Hill,” Tuesday replied. She walked to the back of the bus and took a seat in an empty aisle. Tuesday didn’t have many friends, but she didn’t regret it. She enjoyed the peaceful silence that came with being alone. The bus ride was quick to her high school. Tuesday grudgingly sat through her daily eight periods until the end of the day. She was walking down the hall and saw the most bullied kid in school. He had shoulder length dyed black hair and facial piercings.

            “Hey queer bag,” one of the jocks said as two others surrounded the poor boy.

            “What’s up doucher?” another one insulted.

            “Anything new f*g freak?” the third one said. The boy’s face turned to rich ager as he duck under one of the bully’s arms and ran out of the building. People like those bullies disgusted Tuesday.  She was opening her locker when he felt a light tap on her shoulder. She turned around and was surprised to see the boy in her dreams. The boy that was shot.

            “Uh, hi,” the boy stammered nervously looking down at his shoes.

            “Um, hi,” Tuesday greeted confusedly, “Do you need something?”

            “Do you know who I am? John Thomas? You’ve seen me around school some, but I don’t think we’ve ever talked. Do you?” the boy asked looking up through his eyelashes at Tuesday.

            “Yeah, sort of. So what do you need?” Tuesday repeated.

            “Well, I was wondering if, and I know it’s really last minute, but I never got the courage to ask you, and I kept worrying that you would say ‘no’ and-”

            “Yes,” Tuesday interrupted, “I’ll go to prom with you.” Tuesday was half afraid that that wasn’t the question John was going to ask, but she had a feeling that it was.

            “Really?” John smiled.

            “Yes, I will go to prom with you,” Tuesday assured him.

            “O-okay, um, I’ll pick you up at eight?” John suggested with a wide grin.

            “Yeah, here’s my number,” Tuesday said as she pulled out a piece of paper and a pen. She scribbled down her cellphone number and handed it to John. “Call me and I’ll give you my address,” Tuesday told him.

            “Okay, see you tomorrow,” John laughed out of happiness.

            “Okay,” Tuesday agreed. She closed her locker and walked toward the buses. Tuesday wasn’t exactly sure why she agreed to be John’s date the day before prom. There were many reasons why she agreed. She felt a little sorry for the awkward boy, she had never been to a dance with a date, and she might actually like the boy. John was handsome with shaggy brown hair, dark blue eyes, and a warm, innocent smile. He was at least a head taller that Tuesday, but had the air of a little kid. She wanted to give him a chance, and see how it would turn out. She was a little worried about going to prom with the boy that was shot in her dreams. She became even more worried when she remembered that prom actually was being held in her high school gym because a fancy ballroom couldn’t be afforded, but she assured herself that it was only a dream, and dreams didn’t come true.

            “How was school, honey?” Tuesday’s mother, Rachel, asked when Tuesday walked through the door.

            “Fine,” Tuesday replied, “A boy asked me to prom, and . . . I said yes.”

            “Really? Who asked you?” Rachel wondered excitedly.

            “John Collins, he’s this kind of weird boy, and I figured I would give him a chance,” Tuesday answered.

            “Oh!” Rachel cheered happily. “You’ll have to go try on your dress!”

            “Yeah, that’s what I’m about to go do,” Tuesday explained embarrassedly.

            “Okay, but when you have it on, you have to come out and let me make sure that it still looks good,” Rachel demanded.

            “I will,” Tuesday assured her and ran upstairs to her room. She opened her closet and pulled out her purple strapless prom dress. She slipped out the clothes she was wearing and carefully put on the dress. She quickly made sure it was okay in her full length mirror in her room and walked down stairs to show her mother.

            “Oh my gosh,” Rachel gaped, “You look beautiful!”

            “Thanks Mom,” Tuesday blushed.

            “I am serious! That John is one lucky boy,” Rachel laughed. Tuesday and her mother spoke for a few minutes, but Tuesday retired to her bedroom before supper with a horrible headache.

            Tuesday was annoyed when she had the exact same dream that she had had the night before.

            Tuesday slept in on the morning of prom. She got out of bed at about nine thirty and jumped into the shower. The hot water eased her tense muscles from her sleepless night. The feeling of her dream coming true continued to eat away at Tuesday, but she shoved it into the back of her mind. She stepped out of the shower, dried her hair, and put her dress back on.   “Hey Mom?” Tuesday called. “Will you help me with makeup and hair?” Rachel was in Tuesday’s bathroom before Tuesday finished her sentence.

            “I thought you would never ask,” Rachel admitted. Tuesday sighed and sat down in her bathroom chair. Rachel chose quality over speed with Tuesday’s hair and makeup. The entire process took an hour, but the finished product was worth the wait. Tuesday gasped at the beautiful teenaged girl in the mirror that was not her. The beautiful girl that was not Tuesday had flowing black hair that ended in small ringlets just past the shoulder. The beautiful girl that was not Tuesday had perfectly blushed cheeks. The beautiful girl that was not Tuesday had perfect pink lips. It took Tuesday a few minutes to realize that the beautiful girl in the mirror was her.

            “Wow,” was all that Tuesday could manage.        

            “Don’t get too excited. We’re not finished. We have a lot of things to tweak before you’re better that perfect, not that you aren’t already perfect, and we will get to better than perfect,” Rachel assured her daughter. The rest of the tweaking took much longer than the original process. Four hours longer. By the time they were all done, it was almost time for Tuesday to be picked up. “You have to have fun. I am making you,” Rachel demanded as Tuesday heard a knock on the door. Tuesday opened the door happily as she shooed her mother away with her hand. When she opened the door, Tuesday saw that john was wearing a black suit with a white button down. The outfit in her dream, except the suit jacket was closed. Only a dream, she assured herself.

            “Hi,” Tuesday welcomed with a girlish smile.

            “Hello there,” John greeted and handed Tuesday a clear plastic box with a beautiful pink flower attached to something that looked like a collar for a person’s wrist.

            “You got me a corsage?” Tuesday gasped happily as she took the box in hand and opened it.

            “Yeah, I, uh, did,” John admitted and rubbed the back of his neck embarrassedly.

            “How did you get it so soon? You only asked me to go with you just yesterday,” Tuesday wondered as she fitted the corsage onto her wrist.

            “Well, I was banking on the fact that you would say yes and, uh, ordered it early,” John explained.

            “That is so sweet!” Tuesday smiled.

            “Thank you. So are you ready to go?” John asked checking his watch.

            “Totally,” Tuesday assured him and they walked hand in hand down Tuesday’s driveway to John’s black Dodge Dakota. Tuesday and John rode in a comfortable silence on the way to her high school. Tuesday admired her beautiful corsage. When John parked he jumped out of the truck so he could open the door for Tuesday. “Why thank you. Who said chivalry was dead?” Tuesday commented at the polite act. John just smiled as he and Tuesday walked to the entrance of the high school hand in hand. The couple handed the entrance person their tickets and walked inside. To Tuesday’s dismay, the song playing when Tuesday and John walked in was the song that was playing at the beginning of her dream without the bizarre dream effect.

            “Whew, it sure is hot in here,” John remarked as he unbuttoned his suit jacket. Just a dream, Tuesday said in her mind over and over again to calm herself down. Dreams didn’t come true, she thought, I have nothing to worry about. The song ended and another one came on. It was the slow song that was played in her dream. Tuesday was now taking quick nervous breaths, but John didn’t seem to notice. “Do you want to dance?” John queried with a smile plastered on his face.

            “Uh, sure,” Tuesday agreed. She refused to ruin what was supposed to be the best night of her teenaged life over some silly dream. Tuesday and John took an amateurish dancing pose and started to sway back and forth to the beat of the music. Just like in her dream.

            Suddenly Tuesday heard a loud bang and a girl scream. Just like in her dream.

            Tuesday and John turned toward the sound of the noise. Just like in her dream. They watched as someone in a black hoodie rush through the crowd with a pistol in their hand. The gunman was heading in Tuesday and John’s direction. John pushed Tuesday behind him away from the gunman. The only difference between that moment in reality and that moment in Tuesday’s dream was that time didn’t slow down when the unknown gunslinger pressed the pistol to John’s chest. Tuesday heard a second loud bang, but refused to look at the blood spreading across John’s white shirt, or even blink despite the tears that were beginning to sting her eyes. She refused for her actions to be just like they were in the dream. She refused to admit that she could have prevented this. Tuesday flung out her hand and grabbed the hood of the assassin. She pulled it down to see the monster that would do this to a perfectly innocent boy. The person that was revealed immediately clicked in Tuesday’s mind. No one else in school had the clumsily died black shoulder length hair or nose and lip piercings. The teenaged boy with the gun was teased unmercifully at school and was sick of it, but Tuesday felt no remorse for him. She felt only unforgiving guilt for the boy she could have loved.

            Tuesday turned to see John barely standing with shaky knees. She watched as he fell to the floor of the gym. Just like her dream.

© 2011 Creepy Is My Forte


Author's Note

Creepy Is My Forte
Prom goes wrong.

My Review

Would you like to review this Story?
Login | Register




Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Stats

179 Views
Added on May 22, 2011
Last Updated on May 22, 2011

Author

Creepy Is My Forte
Creepy Is My Forte

Lexington, KY, U.S. Virgin Islands



About
I mostly write short stories of the creepy variety. Stephen King is kid of my idol when it comes to my shorts. When i attempt (and normally fail) to start and write a novel, George R. R. Martin is my .. more..

Writing