blade of avalon

1

this is a new bad habit of mine-- starting loads of stories while keeping others going. but hey, it's fun and that's all that matter right? here's something a lil different.

enjoy!

rmf

The pale pink of my dress fanned out on the perfect lawns around me. The tiny diamonds sparkled in the sunshine like constellations against a rosy tulle sky. A pile of roses lay in front of me and I was sorting them, into yellows, pinks, reds and purples. I looked up and he stood over me. His smile was breath taking, lighting up his eyes, pulling his red lips up towards the skies. I smiled back at him. Birds swooped over us, clicking and whirring like clockwork, red feathers glinting like rubies, green like emeralds, blue like sapphires, pinks like, well, you get the gist. Then there was only one rose left in my hand, a vibrant yellow, and I placed it with its friends, effectively finishing my task. Then I reached up to take his hand.

What a nice man. I thought as my palm touched against his gloved skin.

Then he laughed, and a thin stream of water hit my eye. The clown had pressed the joke flower pin on his chest, sending water straight into my right eye. I gasped as he dropped me, laughing along at the joke. His red lips still outlined his bright grin as I rubbed at my eye. Then it stung a little and I asked him what the water really was. Onion juice he said, jovially, lifting a large bottle labelled as such and looking into the distance as if the whole situation was a commercial for the product.

Where did he even get a litre of onion juice? I wondered.

Then my eye abruptly stopped hurting and the clown pointed to my knee, where the spotty yellow lederhosen that had replaced my dress revealed an itchy lump. From my bare knee sprouted a yellow rose, which opened to reveal a small woman. Like Thumbelina. But fatter and more bogan.

"Wake up, ya knobcake."

I frowned. Thats not a very nice thing for the fairy to say in her loud, manly voice. The same message was repeated in my ear and I jolted upright, breaking out of the dream.

My brother leaned back from his seat beside me. The window seat, please note, despite the fact that I needed it more. Aeroplanes really were never my thing.

"We're about to land."

"Wow really?"

I clutched the arms of the chair as the plane banked to the right, trying to keep some semblance of steadiness to deter the sway of nausea in my stomach, the sarcasm slipping out of my mouth like my vomit would if the plane didn't stop moving soon and my brother wouldn't shut up.

"Why did you wake her, Liam? We still have two minutes."

My mother leaned across the aisle from where she sat next to my father, directing an unimpressed look at my idiot brother.

"Like you said: two minutes left! We might have accidentally left her on the plane!"

"Don't be ridiculous. Besides, you know how long it takes to park the plane, let alone getting off."

They continued to mutter back and forth in the dark air of the flying hunk of metal to which we entrusted our lives. I shut my eyes as we banked again, groaning slightly. The portly lady next to me, who looked remarkably like Thumbelina from my dream, gave a snort in her sleep, but made no signs of waking up, despite the hissed debate occurring across her.

"Don't be ungrateful, Liam Hawke. It's a miracle she let you have the window seat. You know it makes a difference to her."

"How? She sleeps the whole time! And anyway—"