The Dreamer [CURRENTLY UNDER EDITING]

Chapter 5

My heart bloomed like a flower in the sun, content with no books under my arms so long as there was the poster instead.

I wasn't even bothered by the itch on my head, never before feeling so light after many, many years. A smile danced on my lips and wouldn't receed.

And the marriage? Oh, who cares! I could still write these things after marriage. It wasn't an activity done in the open. No one could look down on me.

I could make mother happy, and achieve a dream.

In my pocket was The Ace of Hearts. It fell off when I took my hat back on the way out. I decided maybe it really was a good luck charm.

Then, I saw her.

Her performance usually ended around thirty minutes ago--it wasn't the first day I got out of the book shop that time around.

She wasn't performing, either. She was sitting on a bench, her head tilted up to the sky.

My grip tightened, my heart beating in an odd way. I had been trying to talk to her for months. To figure out her tricks. Her magic.
And I had the chance.

It felt like meeting an idol. Someone you admired.
That kind of encounter that made you afraid and excited, both at the same time.

I bristled slowly to her, my hands behind my back, the poster in between my fingers. The crumple of paper made her look at me, and a grin flickered to her face. Her green eyes shone like gems in soil.

I took a small step back, aware that people usually looked at my skin tone first.
My breath was stuck in my throat.
"It's going to snow soon," she told me.

And that was all she said before sprinkles of snow did came down like sugar frosting.

She stared up again, and only up close had I noticed her fiddling, fidgeting hands. Fingers pulling and tugging and criss-crossing with each other. In a pattern of a rhythm.

I caught her glancing at me, so I looked up as well to avoid it. The snow was light and delicate, though I knew it wouldn't be long for it to drown over Grimmonbourne in 2 weeks.
Still, the silent wind tickled my face gently, a beautiful scenery by default. Cold drops touched my skin, a gentle cool into my nerves.

"I guess soon is much sooner than I thought."

I turned back to her, and she hummed. "Well, the pigeons will come back tonight anyway--oh, dear, sir. Did I weird you out?"

I staggered, my face in flaming red.
"N... No."

"It's alright if I did," she shrugged with her shoulders, before standing up and I realized her height. From far she looked small, though it was hard to be sure of considering the distance.

That close, I could confirm that she was a indeed small person. Shorter than my neck. A few centimetres from my shoulder.
"You're the Magician."

"Yes, I am, sir," she tipped the brim of her top hat, and laughed. Her laugh was like fireflies in the dark--butterflies flying in my stomach. "Cheers."

I didn't get the chance to give her back the card, or ask anything of her job. She had fled away on her feet within seconds out of my sight.

I stood there for who-knows-how-long until I finally set moving again. I sighed to myself, rubbing the card with my gloves in my pocket. I wouldn't deny the disappointment, the fact that I barely said a word to her.

But at least I had the poster.
Yes, the poster of my dreams. Maybe she was busy, who cares? I got the paper, and it was all I ever needed.

In the middle of convincing myself, I ran into a huge gust of people crossing by. I stood aside by an alley, I wasn't much in a hurry anyway.

And I regretted it right away.
It wasn't the same alley 8 years ago. Not the same alley where I killed a kitten.

But I saw the shadows.
And this time, they saw me too.

Emerett Wells. The Dreamer.

The whisper of wind in my ears dispatched goosebumps standing on ends. There was no eye--but I could feel it heavily on me. The creeping feeling that someone was watching. The ghost of touch on my shoulder.  The slow, dangerous pace of its move--approaching me with care and silence.

Exactly like 8 years ago.
All I did left was run.

My ribs felt like it trapped my lungs. Sweat trickled down my neck, though it was snowing and cold. I knocked into people here and there--almost dropping my hat if I hadn't held on to it, their curses and shouts blocked out from my head with a buzz. My eyes saw the shadows. Only the shadows. The dark sky. Snow. Shadows. And shadows.

I clutched the poster tight as if it was my only grip to reality.

Was it a dream? It couldn't be a dream. It felt real. Everything felt so real. The poster. Meeting the Magician. My pinkie had a paper cut. Snow was in some of my hair sticking out from the hat.

But why does it matter?

My heart dropped--my eyes blurry, wanting to be wet with tears when I realized it; dream or not, it would be real. If it was a dream, it would come true one day anyway.

Ah, that's done! I've been waiting for ages to introduce the Magician. She's quite a favourite of mine, she originally was to be in the Arcans series.
Anyway, what do you think about the Magician? And the shadows, where did they come from? Will Emerett be okay?

Don't afraid to give me feedback, I don't eat people! A vote will be appreciated if you liked it. Thanks a lot for reading :)