Totally Bubbly- Cheesecake's New Stories: The Second Series

Cheesecake's New Stories #11: Losing Sanity Part Two

HONEY P.O.V.

                Have you ever dreamt of something that actually happened, whether you remember it did or not? Or do you ever try to come up with scenarios for yourself so that you can escape what reality has given you? Sometimes, I think, reality hits you, trying to tell you that all your made up fantasies are worthless and pointless because the very things you have been running away from are only just around the corner. Even if you didn’t have the choice to be in a line of tragic endings, the Creator forced them into you anyway.  I mean, am I the only one? I did not want to know about my past or anyone else’s. I was alone. Desperate and alone.

                It was a dream that I had that changed my life forever. It was a dream handed to me by the forces of reality, showing me my mom’s past and my own. I never thought misery could be so pure. Or maybe, I was only denying it…

                “Maple,” a voice whispered. It was dark. “Maple? Yo, Sweet, why aren’t you talking to me?”

                Only then did I realize my eyes were closed. When I opened them, the scenery started opening my other senses, allowing me to smell the dusty air, taste the sweat on my lips, and feel the warmth of the sun through the breeze.

                Everything was a buzz: a buzz I couldn’t control nor consciously notice. A different kind of knowledge seemed to be forced into me, hitting me like a ton of bricks. My memories were starting to clear up, involuntarily comprehending the unknown as “known.” I was shorter. I was younger. I was different.

                I was Maple Syrup Sweet.

                “What?” I said in a daze. My legs felt tired, for I had been crouching for fifteen minutes already.

                Out of nowhere, a hand took mine, pulling me down violently.

                “Shhhhh!” A boy panicked. “What are you thinking? Do you want to get Dish Duty?”

                “Oh, right. Sorry,” I whispered back. My voice was high and sounded overly-feminine (if that sort of thing was possible). As I looked at my hands, I saw that they were a flawless tan. I could feel my long, curly brown hair drip like goo down my back. My pink sundress made me look like a chocolate-strawberry cake.

                We were playing hide-and-seek.

                “If you want to get technical,” I explained to my best friend, “you would get Dish Duty. Not me. I’m just a volunteer.” I smiled slyly.

                “Yeah, yeah, but you wouldn’t do that.”

            “Oh, I wouldn’t?” I teased, looking over at the boy. He was three years younger than me: 11, but he was almost my height. His light brown hair brushed over his eyes, causing him to shake the strands away. His natural yellow highlights complimented his knowing golden eyes which would make any person want to stop and stare at the beautiful boy. His skin, scabbed, scarred, and bruised, was almost as tan as mine.

            He was Lemon Tart Celestine.

            “No,” Lemon smiled, “you wouldn’t because you’re my best friend, and you’re too nice.”

            I snorted. “I’m ‘too nice’?”

            He snuck a quick look at the courtyard, obviously very into the game. “Uh, and you’re beautiful?”