What I Hate About You

Chpt. 2

Tom stood on a lonely hill. His pants rolled up to his knees. The same sweater he always had. He wore no shoes and he felt free this way.

The grass was a lush dark green. It stretched out of the cool dirt and tickled Tom's ankles. The sky, a dark pink which faded to blue, and then black. Stars sprinkled the canvas and practically jumped out. As if he could catch them, Tom reached his hand out. His fingers curled out to their furthest point. He longed for the power and hated the fact that even in his dreams, he couldn't do what he wanted.

He pulled back as the ground began to tremble. Grass blades grew out like spikes and wrapped around his wrists. The ground basically pounded at his feet and knocked Tom to his knees. He wanted to scream for help but his pleas were muted. Washed out by the sound of the sky crumbling. Replaced by a black canvas. Tom slowed his breathing and spat out what was left of his happiness.

A figure. A shadow darker than the sky itself. It was much taller than Tom. Much bigger than a house. It stretched what seemed to be an arm out and pointed it at him. Its gears stopped. Tom was much more alert at the moment. He waited for something to happen. Anything at all. Whether it was a miracle or devastation. He wanted nothing more but to wake up. Which was something he hadn't wanted to do for a long time.

Something on the menacing figure pinged. The end of its outstretched limb glowed. The light crescendoed, gears whirring, screaming its lungs out. Tom tried to covered his ears but could barely tuck his head into the hood of his sweater. Just as the sound was about to shatter Tom's eardrums, it stopped.

Tom was back at home- his apartment really. The same cracks on the ceiling that he started to grow familiar with. The same sun that reminded him every morning that he was still alive. The same broken fan that kept turning even though it did nothing. It probably even knew it was pointless.

Carefully sitting up, Tom felt his face and sure as he had thought, he'd cried. As if someone had turned off slow motion, the room awoke from its own dream. Muffled knocks hit the front door.