2nd Dream: Azalea's Friends

        The walls were enchanting I remember.  There were beautiful curving designs etched into the natural cave walls.  It was such a new feeling—of the obsidian-smooth lines wedged between grating rock—for a person who had lived with smoothness and softness all her life.
         And he stayed beside me the everywhere I went.


      “Nah, we can’t ever let you play with us.”
      “Yea, no girls!”
      “But I’m better than you guys!”
      “Yea right.”  Lynn gripped her hands tightly on her friend’s trembling frame—trembling, that is, with anger.
    “You guys,” Azalea roared, “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!!!  I’m gonna kill you! I will!”  At this point, Lynn started dragging Azalea away with all her might.  The boys had already stopped kicking around their soccer ball to stare and laugh at the flustered tomboy.


      Inoi.  Sister.  He called me that.  “Psst, Inoi!  This way!” he whispered to me; the boy with feathery dark brown hair and clear eyes the color of melted snow.  That moment though, his hair seemed darker, almost black, and was plastered to his face wet.
        He led me out away from our sanctuary and further into the pool of water.  The cool sinking-feeling crept up my legs and lifted up the hem of my tattered white dress.  I didn’t know how to swim; I still don’t, but I followed him still.  I trusted him.


        Lynn sighed. “You really shouldn’t say bad words like Azalea,” she started quietly, acting as an echo of her patient mother.  Azalea let out a noise of annoyance and folded her arms across her chest.  She didn’t care about Lynn’s worried gazed.
        “I’ll do whatever I want and you can’t do anything about it,” she simply sharply replied.  Lynn grimaced at Azalea’s tone of voice. 
        Lynn huffed irritably, “Jeez Azalea, all the kids already think you’re weird acting like a boy and not caring about anyone else.”  Lynn leaned back, smoothing out wrinkles from her pleated skirt.  “You don’t care about what I say…you… don’t so… I don’t think I want to play with you either.”  Lynn looked one last time at Azalea’s back and then left.


        The water was so much colder with my whole body into, but he didn’t stop to let me change my mind.  Instead, I was plunged hastily into its depths.  The water was pure though and didn’t sting my eyes like the chlorine-water of the swimming pools.  Enei,  Brother.  Oh Enei, where are you leading me?
        Finally, he released his firm hold on my wrist.  The water swirled gently around the two of us.  Everything moved slower down here.  This is what it must feel like to live in the clouds.  The dark strands of my hair fanned out around me, blurring my view.  Even so, I could make out the dim glow from an old detailed door angled below us.
        He dipped down close to it and brushed off the seaweed moss from its surface.  A warm current burst out between us and I felt myself drifting away.  I drew myself closer to him.  I wouldn’t be left behind.
        Naïvely, I observed as he brought his open palm down on a smooth space at the center of intricate patterns and hieroglyphs.  I also gaped in amazement as the door before me grew brighter and brighter till I was forced to close my eyes.


        A girl of seven years of age stomping down the sidewalk of a picket-fenced suburban neighborhood rarely is a cause for much notice except when receiving the greetings of a couple of good-minded neighbors.  Except it was almost dark then, and most good-minded neighbors and their obedient children were getting ready for bed.
        Azalea, on the other hand, had just stopped stamping away in a tantrum so she could gain a little speed.  It was beginning to rain.  She zipped down Maple Lane and crossed skillfully over Mrs. Ritchie’s fence.
        Today, George would show her a treasure he had hidden, Hugh would tell more of his hilariously funny stories and of course Josie would play tag with her.  Lynn was wrong; Azalea had more friends than Lynn would ever have.

        “Eh… nei…”

        Azalea turned her head from side to side, searching for the owner of the voice.  It had been a while since anyone new had turned up.  Azalea! Josie barked insistently.  She was supposed to be looking for her friend, but the muffled weeping nearby distracted her.

        Where was he…?

        She found the mystery girl in the memorial fountain.  Not sitting on the white stone ledge or bending curiously close to it, but half a foot into the basin, wiping her face with hands drenched in old water.
        The girl was bent over on her knees with her willowy dark hair hanging over her face.  She was maybe six or seven like Azalea, but she was so thin and so pale that her white dress looked almost grey on her.

        “Hello,” Azalea greeted cheerfully, cocking her head toward the other girl.  She stopped crying, but gave no other sign of acknowledgment.
        “My name is Azalea…” the former continued, not the slightest bit discouraged.
        “…”

        Maybe she forgot how to talk?  Maybe, Azalea thought to herself.  She carefully approached the stranger’s side and gently tapped the girl’s shoulder.
        “I… I don’t know who you are but I want to help,” Azalea whispered quietly, a troubled look settling on her stubborn features.
        She also had beautiful eyes, that other girl.  A lovely glassy blue-grey sheen dimmed the blackness of her large pupils and looked startlingly unusual in the almond-cutouts of her face.  As those lost eyes locked onto Azalea’s own, Azalea felt all her bitter feelings disappear and suddenly took the stranger up into a tight embrace.  Tears ran down Azalea’s face despite her best efforts not to cry.
         “Please be real… please…”  A puppy emerged from a nearby bush, hurtling itself toward Azalea and her new companion.  Josie’s happy yips quickly turned to worried whimpers at the sight of Azalea in tears.

        Lighting split the sky open and the rain started pouring.  Azalea pulled herself away from the other girl and held back the other tears.  “I need to go now or Mom and Dad will get even angrier.”  Azalea pointed toward a small bouquet of daisy’s across from them.  “I picked those for George. They’re really his favorite even though he says they’re his sister’s favorite,” she purposefully told the stranger.
        “I’ll come back tomorrow and get you some hydrangeas.”  Azalea stood up to leave.
        Thunder boomed this time, and a cold wet hand flashed up to latch onto Azalea’s shirt.  Shocked, Azalea turned to stare doubtfully at the girl, but didn’t complain. 
        Wordlessly, Azalea led the girl past the black metal gate.  She removed the stranger’s fingers from her shirt and instead slipped her own cold finger’s around them.  In this way, they walked home hand in hand.


If you liked this short story, please suggest another topic, situation, or theme for me to write about and I just might do that!