I must be dreaming. In none of the known realities would I have ever ended up in a coach, never mind a flying one. Only the very rich and royalty travel like this. That used to be my world, but not anymore. I look out the window into the setting sun. A golden red light bathes the landscape. My surroundings are as alien to me as my mode of transport.
I must be dreaming except he’s here too. And I don’t know why he would be in my dream. If he’d entered my subconscious after I fell asleep this would have been a nightmare.
I must be dreaming because I can’t remember how I got here. All I know is I opened my eyes and found myself flying through the early evening sky, accompanied by he who would have me dead. I should be afraid but I’m not.
I must be dreaming because when I look at him I don’t see hate in his eyes. Instead there’s a smile on his face; a smile I haven’t seen since before the night his sister died and he decided her accident was my fault.
I must be dreaming because he’s leaning towards me. The heat in his gaze makes my body remember other evenings; the days before disaster struck and he rejected me, tearing my world apart and shattering my heart.
I close my eyes and dream of the night before it happened. The only night we spent together. The night we were as one for a few glorious moments. Before the knock on his door; before the heartbreaking news; before he decided that if he hadn’t stayed with me his sister would have been safe and therefore, I was to blame for her death.
When I open my eyes again I must still be dreaming because we’re still up in the air and he still stares at me with that smile on his face. He moves closer until our noses almost touch. I should feel his breath against my skin, but I don’t. Now I’m scared.
I must be dreaming because he’s evaporating before my eyes. He fades until he appears transparent. For the first time I try to touch him but he’s not there. Only emptiness and a glorious view through the window remain where he sat only a moment ago.
I must be dreaming but I don’t like my dream any more. The blood red sky has gone black, the sun is gone and the light from the power balloons is fading. I need to wake up. I pinch myself until pain flares through me but the dream remains the same.
I’m not dreaming. We’re falling. If this were a dream I would have woken up just about ....
This picture was suggested by Theo Fenraven and as always, more stories inspired by the same image can be found on Facebook in the Monday Flash Fic group. Given this week's image I expect the stories will be fascinating and varied.