CHAPTER FIVE
1161 Words
Maya’s Pov
I remember thinking it was all a dream, a perfect dream, the kind you wish you’d gotten stranded in.
The feeling was pure happiness; pure peace.
I was in the clearing with Louis. The Moon was full and rich purple, coloring everything in its glow. His silhouette seemed taller, more majestic against the purple-black heavens. His piercing brown eyes glimmered warmly when I turned back to him.
We made love under the midnight heavens, without a care in the world. The worries I’d been battling seemed distant; all I felt was the rush of happiness in simply being close to him, him holding me firm.
He pressed his forehead against mine in a silent vow, we were meant to be.
My pulse trembled under my skin; something wild and exhilarating flowed through me.
Then… something shifted.
My senses suddenly opened up, I could smell the sap beneath the bark of nearby trees, the earth beneath my feet.
My hair fell forward in thick red coils, growing, lengthening, thickening, until it flowed past my shoulders.
I became uncomfortable as my clothes tightened, tearing at the seams; I cried in alarm as the fabric fell away in tatters.
“What’s… happening?”
My voice seemed distant, distant and strange, not quite my own.
I pressed my hands against my face in disbelief, only to find claws where my nails should be.
My knuckles were knobby, my skin toughening.
My body trembled and shifted in painful convulsions.
I tried to call for help, tried to form words, but all that came from me were whimpers and growls, a voice I barely recognized.
I turned in a panic, spinning in circles, trying to find something, someone, that made sense.
Then I saw him.
Louis.
He walked forward quietly, gracefully, without alarm, his silhouette growing taller, more wolf-like with each stride.
He pressed against me, rubbing his face against my fur.
“What are you doing!! Stop that, I’m… I’m… hideous.”
My voice seemed distant and strange, a weak, muffled whine beneath a wolf’s snout.
Louis made no move to withdraw; instead, he pressed close, comforting me, letting me know I wasn't alone in this.
Before I could say another word…
I opened my eyes, sitting up in a cold sweat, trying to separate dream from reality.
My pulse pounded in my ears.
My skin was damp, my hair matted against my forehead.
My hands were… hands, not claws.
My nails were short and human.
My clothes were disheveled, the hoodie I’d put on last night stretched nearly down to my knees, but I was myself again.
I pressed a shaky hand against my forehead.
Relief washed through me in a rush.
“It… it was a dream… just a dream.”
“Maya?”
I turned.
My mom was sitting beside me on the mattress, her hands were icy against my shoulder.
“Mom?”
“It’s okay, sweetheart.”
Her voice seemed distant, like I was under water, a strange feeling made me press a finger against my ear.
“Can you hear me?”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak immediately.
My hands fell back into my lap and I pressed them against the mattress, still affirming that I was, in fact, back home, in my own room.
I turned toward the mirror across from my bedside.
My hair fell just above my shoulders, its normal length.
I breathe in relief, “maybe it was just a dream.”
But something still didn't feel right.
***
Lunch break at school.
The corridors flowed with movement, a rush of kids in all directions, but I kept my head down, hoodie up, trying not to be noticed for some reason.
I made my way toward the back corner of the cafeteria, where I’d asked Sienna Harper to meet me.
Sienna was a friend. My friend. She was smart, if not smarter than I was. But she never showed it off. She was… different. Quiet, bookish, very knowledgeable, she's won several big awards outside of school, she’s the kind who kept her head buried in psychology books and seemed more comfortable in her own mind than whatever was going on around her.
If anyone could explain what I was experiencing… it’d be her.
I slid into the seat across from her, tugging back my hood just enough to meet her piercing green eyes.
“Sienna, hey.”
My voice faltered for a moment, then steadied.
“I need… I need to know something.”
She closed her notebook filled with notes and doodles and nodded.
“What’s going on?”
I pressed my hands against the table, trying to stay composed.
“It’s… it’s hard to explain.”
I paused, choosing my words carefully.
“What do you know about… schizophrenia… or vivid dreams… or… or hallucinations?”
Sienna remained silent for a moment, letting me talk.
“It’s not… it’s not that I’m crazy. I… I know what’s real and what’s not… or at least I thought I did.”
My knuckles tightening against the wooden surface.
“But it felt… it felt so real.”
Sienna nodded slowly.
“Vivid dreams can be a symptom of trauma… stress… or even a neurological condition.”
She opened her notebook again and flipped through a few pages.
“Some people experience something called ‘hypnagogic’ or ‘hypnopompic’ hallucinations, when they’re falling asleep or waking up.”
I stared at the table, swallowing down the nausea.
“It felt real,” I said.
“How real?”
I looked up. “Like… in my body. My hands changed. My skin. My bones. It wasn’t a dream. It couldn’t have been.”
She didn’t say anything for a beat.
“Some people feel things physically when they dream. Somatic responses,” she offered, her voice even. “Sometimes the brain reacts like the body’s really in danger.”
“No,” I whispered. “It wasn’t like that.”
“It… it felt… real. I… I… remember it in my body. Like it was really happening. The pain… the tearing… the… the… bite.”
My voice fell into a whisper.
For a moment, silence fell between us, Sienna then gently touched my hand.
“It’s not unheard of for the mind to manifest physical symptoms.”
I pressed a shaky hand against my neck, against the small raised spot I’d felt this morning.
“It feels… more.”
Suddenly a rush flowed through me.
The feeling of someone else’s presence.
My pulse faltered.
I turned my head just slightly to look around, “It’s here.”
Sienna followed my gaze, confused. “What’s here?”
“The feeling… someone… something.” My neck started to throb directly where the bit
e was.
“Maya?” Sienna’s voice seemed distant now. “Maya… what’s going on?”
I pressed my fingertips against the raised spot on my neck.
“It… it was real.”
- Writer
