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MORE FICTIONAL DREAMS

I wonder sometimes, when soft sunlight fills my vacant eyes, if we're all simply waiting around for something, something that will never come. What's worse is I fear that each of us knows it will never come, and how we deal with that horrific thought is the reason we live out our lives the way we do, each of us in our own way.

The morning had come softly at last, and jeweled drops of dew fell from the emerald leaves to her raven colored hair. Her eyes opened slowly and took in the sights, the scents, the feeling of the day around her. She lifted herself from the ground that had kept her that night, and looked to the horizon, golden with the promise of the day ahead.