2 views
Falling......
It was just another ordinary night as I lay in my bed, my mind heavy with the weight of the day's events. But as I drifted off to sleep, I found myself in a place that was anything but ordinary. I was strolling through a cemetery, the headstones tall and imposing, casting long shadows in the moonlight. The air was cold and still, and a sense of unease settled over me like a shroud. It was getting late and dark, so I kept on walking towards the gate, thinking of reaching home. While walking towards the exit, in between the way I stumbled upon a grave, feeling the ground soften beneath me. I slipped into a gooey tunnel, falling until I reached a black, empty space. Confused and scared, I longed to return home. Everything went quiet, and I felt nothing but sleepy, as if I hadn't slept for many nights. The feeling of nothingness enveloped me. Just as my eyes were halfway closed, something pushed me from below. A voice echoed, "Death has not come for you yet, and you must return to your world and play the rest of your role." Blurry and disoriented, I flew back up, covered in mud, wheezing and coughing.
I woke up, under the pale moonlight in the cemetery, I saw a gravestone carved with the name, "Raul Richardson 1806 ~ 1858." Chills ran down my spine. Was I dead, or was my mind playing a trick? As I stood up, I noticed a red balloon near the grave, a gift of returning.🎈
Thank you, Raul Richardson.
"A GIFT OF RETURNING..."
I woke up with a gasp, the memory of the dream clinging to me like mist. It felt so vivid, so real. The image of the red balloon stuck in my mind as I pondered the meaning of it all. Was it just a dream, or was there something more to it?
As I went about my day, the memory of the dream lingered, hauntingly real. I couldn't shake the feeling that it meant something, that it held a message for me. I felt drawn back to the cemetery, as if there was something waiting for me there.
The next evening, I found myself standing before Raul Richardson's grave. The red balloon was still there, swaying gently in the breeze. I reached out to touch it, and suddenly, a rush of emotions and memories flooded through me. I saw glimpses of Raul's life, felt his longing to return, his yearning for another chance. It was as if he had gifted me with the opportunity to see the world through his eyes.
This was a gift of returning, a chance to appreciate life and embrace every moment. As I left the cemetery that day, I carried Raul's legacy with me, a reminder to cherish the gift of life.
© All Rights Reserved
I woke up, under the pale moonlight in the cemetery, I saw a gravestone carved with the name, "Raul Richardson 1806 ~ 1858." Chills ran down my spine. Was I dead, or was my mind playing a trick? As I stood up, I noticed a red balloon near the grave, a gift of returning.🎈
Thank you, Raul Richardson.
"A GIFT OF RETURNING..."
I woke up with a gasp, the memory of the dream clinging to me like mist. It felt so vivid, so real. The image of the red balloon stuck in my mind as I pondered the meaning of it all. Was it just a dream, or was there something more to it?
As I went about my day, the memory of the dream lingered, hauntingly real. I couldn't shake the feeling that it meant something, that it held a message for me. I felt drawn back to the cemetery, as if there was something waiting for me there.
The next evening, I found myself standing before Raul Richardson's grave. The red balloon was still there, swaying gently in the breeze. I reached out to touch it, and suddenly, a rush of emotions and memories flooded through me. I saw glimpses of Raul's life, felt his longing to return, his yearning for another chance. It was as if he had gifted me with the opportunity to see the world through his eyes.
This was a gift of returning, a chance to appreciate life and embrace every moment. As I left the cemetery that day, I carried Raul's legacy with me, a reminder to cherish the gift of life.
© All Rights Reserved
