Looking around the darkness of her room she drew a deep breath, taking in the familiar sight before her. Her eyes surveyed the room to make sure everything was as she left it. Her gaze stopped at a picture taped to her vanity mirror. It was of a woman with black hair and red eyes. Many people credited her unique eye colour to an over exposed picture, but Ray knew that it was those naturally red eyes that gave her mother her gift. Yes, her gift. Ray never did know exactly what her mothers gift was, but there was something special about her; something other than the great beauty that made her almost painful to look at. Ray could only ever find one word to describe it. Power. It was not a scary kind of power, more one that made everyone feel safe, and protected. Ray had been so young when her mother died that she barely remembered her. What she did remember was her gift; and she remembered it clearly. Walking over to her the mirror she sighed in the disappointment of knowing exactly what she would see. For her, the mirror reflected what was inside her. A different emptiness that she didn’t see in anyone else, the only person she had ever recognized it in had been her mother. Focusing her eyes on the image of her physical appearance, the blur of her emptiness turned into a girl . Her hair was blonde and her eyes grey. Her nose was a little pointy and her face angular. She was plain, but could have been attractive if she tried. She never bothered.
Her eyes shifted up to the only unique thing about her, the red streak in her hair. The same red as her mothers eyes. What was most interesting about the red was that it was completely natural. Moreover, try as she might she could never cover it up or cut it out. It shone through all the hair dyes she ever tried and always grew back from a cut. She stopped trying to rid herself of it after she noticed it getting more vibrant each time it was toyed with. She tried to convince herself she was crazy, her hair most certainly did not have a will to be red. Still, she often felt that it shone brighter than anything she had ever seen.
Feeling a burning sensation on her arm she glanced down at her tattoo. Even in the dark she could clearly make out the small dragon that made home on her forearm. Unsure of what was causing it to ache she rubbed it on her sweat pants and winced. It did this on occasion without any cause that she could think of. A friend had once suggested that she was allergic to something in the ink. Deep down Ray knew that was not the cause, but for lack of better excuse she convinced herself that that was sufficient reason. She didn’t mind it though. The tattoo was exactly like the one her mother had had, and Ray felt it was the only thing that connected them. She clearly remembered the night she got it.
She’d been celebrating her 19th birthday with some friends at a bar and wondered off on her own. Somehow she made her way outside, and the sheer pride she felt in herself for making it all the way from the bar to her truck despite the copious amounts of alchol in her system filled her head with the delusion she could drive herself home. As she was driving down a lonely back road a deer jumped out and caused her to swerve into a tree. Everything went black. She woke up the next morning in her bed feeling great, except for the lingering irritation on her arm. Peeling back the bandage revealed the black dragon. Thoughts of her mother flooded her head. She had forgotten all about her mothers tattoo until now. And seeing it now on her own arm brought back a sense of comfort. She felt stronger, like the independent woman her mother had always wanted her to be. Remembering her accident she ran outside, only to find her truck parked in it’s usual spot, without even a scratch. When she questioned her father about the night before, she was informed that she had driven herself home around 11 pm (an hour after she left the bar, which was only a 10 minute drive away). This, was followed by a lengthy lecture on the risks of drinking and driving, and how she might not be so lucky next time. While her father rambled on she had plenty of time to conclude that she must’ve staggered into a tattoo parlor and drawn a long forgotten memory of her mother from the back of her mind. The crash must’ve been a dream. An awful dream, vivid as they always were in her mind.
Looking over at the clock it took her a moment to register what she was reading, 3:33am. Once she had realized just how early it was she sank back down onto her bed to contemplate the cause of her rude awakening.
It had just been a bad dream. A dream that she knew well. She was at the top of a mountain. The sky was an angry grey with orange, like fire spreading through darkness. The wind caused her hair to whip around her face, but she was too intently focused on something in the distance to care. She was bleeding, but she didn’t even flinch at the pain. A pain that she could almost feel through this terrifyingly vivid dream. Behind her she heard a noise that could only be described as a roaring shriek. She fell to the ground with her hands over her ears in a desperate attempt to muffle the noise. It was no use, the noise was not only all around her, it was inside her. It was in her head, it coursed through her veins, it was in the air she breathed. Something in it was telling her to turn around. She bit her lip until it bled as she tried to fight it. She drew something from inside of herself and all noises and feelings ceased to be. All except a burning on her arm. She stood, eyes closed, and slowly turned around to find the source of the awful noise. Just as she is about to open her eyes, something deliverers a heavy blow to her side; knocking her to the ground, and she wakes up.
As a young girl, Ray often had this same dream. By the age of 13 it was the only thing she ever dreamt about. The same thing over and over again. Then, on the night of her 15th birthday they went away forever, or what she thought would be forever. But, forever came and went all too soon for Ray. Last month, on the night of her 19th birthday that dream came back, now it was more vivid and frequent than ever.
