The Dream

Chapter 1

     This is my first story that I have posted!! I'm actually really scared that this is going to be bad and 1-10 there are only going to be 2 people reading it don't be afraid to comment on anything you see wrong or anything I should add.
     I woke up to someone shaking my shoulders. My first thought was "This person is going to pay that they interrupted my sleep on a weekend," but I opened my eyes and saw that it was my 10 year old little brother, James. He was in his Star Wars pajamas. His green and brown speckled eyes looked around the room frantically and choked out one word that sent me flying out of my bed, "smoke."
     I quickly slipped my black robe over my grey pajamas. As I ran through the house, the smoke seemed to get thicker as I got closer to the kitchen. I grabbed the nearest container and ran to the half bathroom in the hallway. It was an empty cup I found on the way to the kitchen. It seemed to take forever as I filled up the cup and ran the rest of the way to the kitchen, with James right behind me.  When I got to the kitchen I was so surprised I actually dropped my cup.
     I saw Dad in the kitchen cooking, or at least, trying to cook.  He had a frying pan with a burnt circle in the middle of the pan, which I could only assume was a very burnt pancake.
     "Good morning- cough- sunshine," Dad's watery blue eyes looked red because of the smoke. "I made breakfast!"
     "I hope you don't call that burnt alien food breakfast," my little brother finally spoke up.
     That snapped me out of my trance, I went and looked under the kitchen sink for the fire extinguisher. I grabbed it and sprayed the white foam over the 'breakfast'.
     Dad looked up from the frying pan sadly and said, "Okay, I guess today is cereal, again." He ran his hands through his dirty blonde hair, which was the opposite of mine, which was dark brown.
     "Dad, we really appreciate you trying to make breakfast, but maybe next time, you can leave that to me?" I was just hoping that he wouldn't burn the house down. "And don't you have to get ready for work?"
     Dad worked as a policeman, though there isn't a lot of activity in the small town of Cordele, Georgia. Mostly he sits in his office and reads reports of small stolen things, like bikes and whatnot.
     "Right," he said with a grin, "the station called in an hour ago and said I only had to work a half day today."
     James looked happy and said, "What time? Does that mean we can work on the model airplane we were working on?"
     "The station said around 2:00, what time is it now?" Dad looked to his wrist as if he was going to check his watch, but then noticed he was still in his pajamas and didn't have his watch on yet. 
     I looked at the wall clock above the kitchen sink. "The clock says it is 9:24, so you will have around 3 hours to build your model airplane, but it will still leave time to eat breakfast and lunch, and also get clothes on."
     "Good idea, Casey. I'll be right back James, then we can build that airplane." Dad left to go to his room.
I handed James a bowl from the cabinet and put a pop tart in the toaster for me.
     "Casey?" James asked as he poured some cereal.
     "Hm?" I said with Pop Tart crumbs in my mouth.
     "Do dreams ever become real?" It was a silly question but I wasn't about to tell him that.
"It depends on what the dream is," I don't understand why he would ask that, unless it was either something really bad or really good.
"Well," he looked sad and embarrassed, "I dreamed that Mom was still with us and she didn't die in the warehouse fire." Around two months ago, our mother, Gloria, died in a warehouse fire accident while she was at work. She was an artist and painted the best pictures.
"Well," I didn't know what to do, James really wanted the dream to come true. What would Mom say? Don't dwell in the past, keep looking forward. "Why don't you draw me a picture of it?" He brightened up at that, he loved to draw and paint. I did too, but I didn't get any artistic genes from my mom.
He grabbed a pen and paper, as well as some crayons. Cereal forgotten, he started drawing.
James's dirty blonde hair looked like it wasn't been brushed, so I walked the few steps from the kitchen to the bathroom and grabbed a green brush. When I walked back from the bathroom, James had already drawn the background, which was the park, and he was starting on something that looked like a blanket. I started brushing his hair and singing a soft song that Mom taught us. Though I didn't get her artistic genes, I did get her amazing voice. The song was called All Through The Night, although it was a Bedtime Lullaby, it was calm and soothing as I sang the words. It was mostly about God and His Angels watching over you and your loved ones while you sleep. It is good to know that God is watching us.
     When I finally looked up, James had finished his drawing and was smiling proudly. In the picture, Mom was on the blanket in the park, in a yellow sundress, her white blonde hair flowing softly around her shoulders, and her golden eyes gleaming, like she was laughing to a joke only she could hear.          To her left was our father, in his Sunday clothes. His dirty blonde hair combed amd styled so it didn't look sloppy. He was also smiling, but his watery blue eyes were focused on Mom. Even James looked good, in a plaid shirt and khakis. His blonde hair was combed just like Dads. And then there was me, with my favorite black and white rose dress on. My dark brown hair was curled and halfway pulled up in a bun. Even my Stormy Grey eyes looked beautiful.
     "Oh, James," I held my hand to my mouth, I almost started crying. The picture was beautiful. "The picture is beautiful, I love it," I was already thinking of where to put it. "We should head out and buy a frame for it, what do you think?"
     "I think that is amazing, thanks," James looked up as Dad walked into the room.
     "What is this?" He asked.
     "James drew a picture of a dream he had, with Mom in it," as I said Mom, he looked up and closed his eyes, a sign that he was praying. He looked down a few seconds later, and I saw he had tears in his eyes.
     "I know the perfect place for this," he said as he walked back to his room. We heard banging and Dad muttering 'Ow!' but he came back holding an old wooden frame, the exact size of the paper. We put the picture in the frame and Dad took it to the extra room. I should probably mention that we just moved into this house after Mom died, it belongs to Dad's 26 year old sister, Aunt Claire, but she moved to New York with her boyfriend and no one would buy her huge house. It has a bunch of bedrooms and other rooms, it sort of looked like a hotel.
     We called this room the Sunday room because this is where we go to pray and read the Bible. It has two red love seats and a coffee table between them. The walls were a sunny yellow with lots of windows.
     Dad put the picture on the wall, a position that no matter where you are in the room, you can see it.
     "So, let's get started on that plane, James," Dad smiled as he grabbed James's hand and went to the garage where they were working on a red model airplane.

Okayyyyyyy, not the best right? I also draw and make clothes if you want to see that too. I saw some people had an online 'Diary' ? I'm not sure what else to do but sorry if I don't post a lot, I get easily distracted. Well, I hope you have a GREAT DAY!!!!
Until next chapter,
M.G.