White

What if you aren't real? Are you alive if you dream? Bad summary. Sorry.

             Right now you might not know who I am, but very soon you will. Let me explain. Normally learning about some one’s life is boring, but not mine. I am just an idea, a thought, a character. I am only a made-up figment of my creator’s imagination. There was only one person who knew of my existence, but not anymore. They left me and I need a new creator. This is generally where you would hear who am I. In my case I'm not a who or a where, why, when, how, but a what. I am a thing.

            Some might say that I have never lived. They are wrong. I think, I dream, and I hope. If not alive, what am I? What am I?

            I remember being formed. The idea popped into her head as fast as it was gone. She didn’t believe in me, there was no hope for me ever existing. My presence was an absence in her life that needed to be filled. I should have been there for Krystal but I wasn’t. How could I? Krystal’s own mind wouldn’t let her see me, hear me, or believe in me.

            I was young and my home was a dark and lonely place. The home of which I came was a hole inside the empty spaces of the world. The unknown was my father and destiny was my mother. They raised me knowing I would be nothing. They thought that mortal’s minds were incapable of me. They didn’t know Krystal. They didn’t know the passion that could live inside a person till it was needed, till the time when it needed to be shown.

 

 

 

 

            I was covered by cold blasting wind rolling down my spine. I can still feel the astonishment I felt then, even as I look back on it now. My legs started to fall from under me. I landed on my arm in the middle of a barely lit room. Ten minutes it took for me to get accustomed to the feeling of solids. The reality was that I was real in that moment. My soul came to be a heart; my brain was what my eyes had once been. The room was spinning and then stopped like the top car of a Ferris wheel, I could look down and see everything but it was all a blur.

            A frightened little girl with shimmering hazel eyes and dark brown hair sat in the corner of the room. The cowering girl surprised me; then again a lot of things surprise me about that day.

            “Who… Who are you?” an obviously shaken voice could be heard. Krystal was staring at me not moving, just watching.

            “I don’t know.” Then I vanished. The air that had created me before was now crushing me down. The place I had been before the, oh so familiar blank, white environment I had known for so long returned. What I had once thought to be the only place in the world was now just the only place in my world.

The one convenient part of nothingness is the time it gives you to think. I thought about Krystal, or at that time she was just the small lonely girl in vast and exciting new dimension. I had been an idiot. The only thing I had managed to say was “I don’t know.” How sad is that? For my whole nonexistence I had waited to exist, and what did I do? I froze.

Ever since the moment I saw her, I have dreamed about her. Although my dreams don’t appear to me the way that dreams come to others, I still dream. I never sleep. I have no body requiring energy. Therefore I never eat. My days were long and the only thing I see is white. The white that I see is like the sky before a storm, there appears to be nothing above the horizon. That is also the way that I feel when I stare into the white. The only way to get away from the dark colored white was to dream.

My soul would release its loneliness out in the only way that it could, by making others like me. I am the only one of my kind, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t imagine them. I made everything black: They would appear. The others looked like me. They were just blurs, but if someone happened to try hard enough they could see them. In their cases, I made them. In my case, Krystal made me.

My dreams consist of the room. The old-fashioned drapes coming across the window. The light fighting to come inside, but is defeated by the thick, blood red curtains. They flow to the hardwood flooring that maintains the darkness that the room embodies, with a bearskin rug. The mouth of the bear is wide open, showing its big, pointy teeth. The thought of someone in such a dark room with a bear on the ground made me think that the new world was dangerous.  As it was not my world and not boring, I would have loved to go back. Now I wish I had never gone.

 

 

Krystal

Today was a hard day and that’s being nice. My father the dictator of my life, decided that it was about time I got a job. I know that being seventeen means that I have to be mature but I refuse to act more mature than he does. He has ruined so many lives and refuses to admit to it. My father is the owner of G.L.K. Inc. He thinks that because he has a massive amount of money he can get away with anything. The toxic sludge he dumps into the remaining drinkable water is deadly. Does he care? NO! When he asked me to go to his offices today I probably should have just played along like the good innocent girl he wishes I were. The only problem with that, I am not a good innocent girl. I mean with a name like Krystal what did he expect?

Author's Note

Please don't hate it.

Reviews

[zainul]

Great write.
Wonderful imagination.

[roses101]

Thanks. I like your writing too.

[zainul]

You are most welcome.
That's a great pleasure of mine.

[Different Wings]

The most I can say about this piece is that I want to see more of the story!
It's really well done, most of it. I especially like the way the first section is written. It feels so familiar- such a "yes, that's how it is!" bit for the fiction writer. It gets a touch exasperated, but not a big deal. I like the style, and this continues into the second section. Here I don't love the flow so much, but it makes me curious to see where you're going. It feels a little bit dreamy, which is fine, but I don't know if that's quite what you were going for. Abstract and unsure, yes, but perhaps not dreamy. The third section, to be honest, threw me off. Do you mean to write in prose, free of commas á la Cormac McCarthy? Is that just the girl's thoughts, because some of what she thinks seems too obvious. Some is too contrasted. If that's the style she thinks in, cool. But again, it feels too separate from the earlier stuff which maybe I just happen to like more :) Also I wasn't super convinced by the father's conversation and the way his employees treat him. I certainly like the way she describes his deceiving ways and the company's darkness, but maybe tone it down just a *little* bit.
Aaanyways you probably didn't want so much editing but I thought I'd give it a go in the hopes that you write/post more of the story! I really want to read on. You have me going strong!!!

[roses101]

Thanks, I find the editing helpful. There is more to the story it just needs to be edited more. Yay! First review.