being, chapter one page three

being, chapter one page three, mechelle morrison

chapter  one page three

The air churns, swift as water around large stones.  For a second I think I hear a rushing jumble of words.  Then they’re gone.

My hair whips my face, stinging my skin, and I push it away with cold fingers.  The world lightens, but something dark crouches at the edge of my vision.

Fear shreds my chest.  “I can’t . . . see.”

A sharp thing pokes my forehead, digging into my flesh.  “You’re right here.”  Elly pokes again—her fingernail?—and I flinch. The wind sweeps between us like a curtain from a stage.  I see her now.  Cheeks blotched and bright red.  Huge pupils.

“Are you … okay?”

“I have no idea.  I mean, I feel seriously weird.”

“Why are you in my dream?”

She rolls her eyes.  “You’re not dreaming, idiot.”

But I’m not so sure.  I turn and face the thing behind us—scaffolding, maybe—it’s latticed with dozens of crossing rods.  Then just like that there are more of them: not scaffolding but four steel legs surrounding us in four-square formation.  The legs narrow as they rise, curving inward to connect to the corners of a common rail or walkway.  From there they telescope into the sky.

“Wha—what is that?”

“You don’t know?”  Elly’s furious.  Or maybe she’s going to cry.  I can never tell.

“All I know is we’re surrounded.”

She whirls around, her hair alive with wind and I swear, I swear, I hear whispering.  “Is someone there?” she asks.  “Do you see Dad?”