Reassurance (Rocky Lynch Fan Fiction)

01 ♪

“We understand that a plane has crashed into the World Trade Center, we don’t know anything more than that...”

“There has been some sort of explosion...”

“There has been a major disaster here..”

“Caspar, I’m going to have to ask you to get up sweetie, we need to take you back to your classroom, okay? Come on, I’ll walk you.”

“Wha-what’s going on?”

“We don’t know sweetie, but we’re going to call your parents to come get you, alright?”

“But, Maamaa and Papà are at work.”

“Honey, someone’s going to come get you, alright? Don’t worry.”

The principal was walking very quickly, and the little pale skinned girl had to run to keep up, her long dark braids bobbing behind her. The principal brought her to the kindergarten classroom, then walked just as quickly back to her office.

“Miss Kelsey, what’s wrong?” The little girl asked.

“We don’t know, honey, just go sit on the rug until your mommy or daddy comes.”

“Maamaa and Papà are at work.”

“Sweetie, someone’s going to come, please go sit down.”

The little girl turned around and sat in her seat. Minutes later, her teacher called her back up to the front of the room, and the little girl with long, dark braids walked out the door with her next door neighbor, her godmother. In the hallway, the little girl turned to her godmother. “Where are Maamaa and Papà?”

Before she got an answer, the ceiling was torn open by a large Boeing 767 plane. Glass shards cut through the air, thick with smoke and dust. The little girl flew into the air, crying out for her parents.

~~~

I bolted upright with a yelp. I slapped my hands over my mouth, hoping Aunt Carla didn’t hear me. I held my breath, envisioning the last time she heard me wake up from my dreams. She’d frantically flipped on every light on her way to my room, and grabbed one of my tall candles, ready to throw it metal stand first into the imaginary intruder. If it was a scene on a television show, I would have rolled over laughing at the crazy woman. But when it happened in person, it wasn’t so humorous.

No lights were thrown on, so I sighed, throwing my legs over the side of my bed and shuffling to my bathroom. I slowly closed the door before turning on the string of lanterns that hung above my mirror.

"It was just a dream, Cas," I whispered to myself. "Just another dream."

I looked up at the mirror. Right under one of my lanterns was a red set of numbers and letters, reading September 5. I groaned, then splashed cold water on my face. I pulled open one of the drawers, pulling out a red marker and changing the date to September 6. Only five more nights of those dreams. Hopefully.

I searched around another drawer until I found the familiar bottle. I sprayed the perfume behind both my ears, and the familiar chamomile and lavender scent comforted me. I quietly tiptoed out of the bathroom, keeping the warm glow of my lanterns on. The neon orange numbers on my clock told me that it was just shy of three in the morning. School didn’t start for a couple days, so I didn’t bother trying to fall back asleep. I wouldn’t be able to anyways. Instinctively, I slid out my easel, placed on a clean, empty canvas, and opened my cabinet of colors. The corners of my mouth turned up at the rows of black caps, each one with a colored spot on it.

I opened the curtains of my wall length window, gazing down the palm tree lined street. It always looked so beautiful when the sun was rising. I’m glad summer is extra long this year-- the soft September sunrises are great for painting.