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When Victoria took out the pigs, she bent down in her wooden shoes, and fed them the little bit of she still had left for them her family still had left. It was a dry feed. a mixture of various nuts and seeds. Her family had not been to the market in years, and it was just now the trees from which grew the nuts, began to wither and die. After it was done, she went back inside, and told her mother who was now reading her book instead of dusting the stove top, that the pigs have now been fed. “I am tired no, can I not rest?” Ordinarily her mother would say to help her cook their dinner. But instead she saw that Victoria was getting the sleepy eye.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlYq43XyFiQ
“You may for this night only, but I will have more chores in the morning.” Victoria’s stomps could be heard throughout the house, prompting her mother to tell her to quiet it down. As she entered the room, quietness. The moon from the window eased in through the curtain that just barely covered the night. She tossed off her shoes that felt like logs rather than actual shoes, put herself over the covers, and then finally began to drift off to sleep. It was a while coming, but eventually she came upon the dream-gate. Victoria found herself walking through the gardens, that have long sense overgrown. The grass was already much longer than how it was before, when she first arrived. If there was any point she regretted becoming older, it was that silence that has continued since she made her decision to tell herself that nothing that was real, and that nothing going on was really happening.
For this was a time she needed it most, for even if her mother would make toast in the morning, there was still very much work to do. She had to gather the wood to help repair her father’s bench outside. She needed to retrieve the mixture in order to make more concrete, because the fountain that once was there, was merely a pile of rubble. In her dream, it had now began to take on merely the qualities of the waking world. Where nothing was as it seemed, and at once she was chased by several wolves searching for prey. For the day has gone, that she no longer belonged to that world, or any world that showed different levels of reality beyond the carefully trimmed hedge brush she needed to trim along her houses sides.
It was when she was pounced on by the wolf remembered.
Where the Bunnies were always white, the grass always greener.
Not the now, where everything was meaner.
It was a warm day in Summer, and the heat was unbearable. A temperature of which made her wooden shoes nigh un-wearable. Yet she would trudge on, because while she was getting tired, at least she did not have to do chores. Those things were such bores, thing older people would do to pass the time. But for Victoria, she wanted to do away with time. Make everything within her world of dreams, fit within a certain rhyme. A world that was like the melody of music, like music notes hopping two and three and upbeat melodies. For this, the tiredness for wearing heavy shoes were bearable.
Along her travels, she met a bunny rabbit. But he was an odd one, had going a bad habit. Everything day he would smoke cigars, and tell stories of his voyages where he sailed the high seas. It was all she could to not go, “Please can you spare the story for another day?” For she wanted the stories to go away. Yet she bared it, as despite the boredom from the millions of words coming from the rabbit’s mouth. For it was a warm house, where she always got to read books about children her age. Somehow the memory of being an only child began to fade, and she read wonderful reads until the moon began to wane. Nothing to brush the house with, nothing that was profane.
It was when she aged yet one year, things began to change. Yet it was gradual at first, and it only ever happened as she began to suffer from thirst. For her mother would deny her glasses of water to drink to take away the Summer’s heat. Inside Victoria’s mind, she saw millions of bunny rabbits hopping in twos and three searching for the lost lakes and streams. Eventually Victoria relented, and did chores for yet one more day. It took a long time for her to gather the wheat to make bales of hay. For what she could bare, one before. Now she craved to be at the shore, at the beach with other’s of her kin. Children, mother’s, and men. Animals in twos and threes, everyone of it’s kind. They played water sports, many varieties that don’t actually exist. “May I play with bunny, she would insist.” They tossed her the bunny, that tossing the bunny was funny. Yet was no longer funny when the big bear tossed the bunny into Victoria’s face.
And she dropped into the water, in disgrace.
It was a gradual feeling of resent moment, growing ever still. Yet she tried to let it go, assuming that no harm was meant. It was the next evening she tried not to visit them, but with regret she decided to take a nap. But at this point she was getting to the point where mother was insisting for her to have chores to do. Oh that’s poo, she thought. For the weather had wrought, many flowers swaying in the breeze. It’s wind cooling her and blowing up her sleeves. “Put on your wooden shoes, today I will make you sing the blues.” Victoria at first hoped that there was no resentment from the animals, yet it was a faint hope. Though her mother kept her busy for much of the day, therefore at first was in the back of her mind.
Everything in dreams, was sour like wine. A tart taste of what was once heaven, but now snow ... hither and yawn. Thus for took a break, tried to ignore her dreams. Yet as the back of her dress began to tear at the seams, she craved them again. But that had become different, for the animals were no longer there. Not even a conversation, from the rabbit’s cousin. A talking hare. Instead there were revenents, out to kill her everywhere. They disappeared suddenly, and appeared again just as sudden. Many evil spirits, with big sharp teeth and large flaming red eyes. She woke up screaming, mother checked on her.
She lied, said everything was fine. A sorrow, where even dreams may die.
Dreams are now no longer tart, like even a fine wine. The visions as she slept over then next week, began to wither away, and she had silent nights. Another day, she became sick. Doctors did not know the cause at first, because at first there was no symptoms. Victoria had a coughing cough, her eyes began to fade. She died with blood on her shirt. Mother wept until the night became day, regretting the lost Victoria. Her family moved, because there was no longer any reason to be in town. Only the faint memories, of her daughter the was once a clown. The faint memories of her daughters frown, was a minor comfort. As they rode away into the valley of forever.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKnzY0HUBI4
