Déjà Vu in Mid-Spring

This is a continuation for Déjà Vu in Mid-Spring, to read the first part please click here

Inefficient does not even come close to describing the preparations, or lack thereof, I have made for my first day at my new school, Franklin High. I meant to get it all together… but I got distracted. It happens from time to time. Once creativity sinks its claws into me, I loose myself to the easel and canvas.

Painting has always been a passion of mine, ever since I was a little girl, with my very first art set I got for my fifth birthday. I’d been like any other child, coloring and drawing, but once the paints were introduced into my life, things changed for me. I became obsessed for a time, I would come home every day and paint until dinner. I would bring my new creation to my parents and they would leave it out to dry before my mother would put it on display. The fridge was a vast array of many vibrant images.

Things dwindled down over the years, as new interests came and went. I still paint from time to time, when the mood catches me just right, but nothing like this past week. After coming home from being enrolled, I took a nap, the day’s events proved to be more tiring than they should’ve. The dream I had was so odd, yet familiar. The hottie from the registration office was the star of my dream the day and every dream since then.

The dream is always the same,

It’s pure darkness and I am running, running from something, something that never reaches me. The running stretches on, for what feels like forever.  I feel my limbs becoming weak, my body starts to give up and then all of the sudden, I collapse. I am no longer in darkness but, in a vast field of green sprinkled with enormous yellow flowers, the sky many hues of violet.

I wander through this field, under the coverage of the massive flowers, careful to dodge the smoking secretions coming from the drooping petals. The stench is a mix of honeysuckle and sewage. I wander aimless for a time before I make contact with a wall, painted to reflect the sky and scene.

Feeling and walking along the edge I find a door. Upon opening the door, I fall and land in the arms of the boy in the registration office, he places me on my feet. He greets me by my name and takes my hand. His hand is clasped tight around mine as we take off into a run. “Come on. We have to get out of here.” He shouts to me. I find hearing him is difficult to do with the screaming sounds of sirens surrounding us as the sky rains fire from above. Then, it happens. He’s hit by the falling fire and he dies in my arms.

I awake every time, weeping, then I paint. Paint things I’ve never seen before. I paint things I see in the dream. I’m frantic as I try to figure out the meaning of this perplexing dream. There is a nagging feeling within me that there is something I have to do, something I have to figure out, like something is communicating with me trying to get my attention.

I look at myself in the mirror and the lack of sleep shows on my face. I have matching bags under my eyes I try to conceal with makeup. Today is the official first day at my new school and there will be enough focus on me, no need to give them extra things to talk about. I hear my mom calling me from down the hall, “Anya, five minutes ‘til breakfast. Hurry up, we don’t want you to be late!” I pinch my cheeks to give them some color and plaster a smile on my face. I shudder at my reflection and sigh, guess this is as good as it gets.

Making my way down the stairs, the scent of bacon and blueberry pancakes greets my nose and sends an instant hunger signal to my brain making my stomach grumble in anticipation. My mouth follows suite, making me salivate. I haven’t eaten much this past week, I’ve been too concerned with painting. I catch my reflection the mirror as I go down the stairs, my smile still on, but I am fooling no one into thinking I am happy, so I decide to forgo the smile.

When I get to the dining room, my father is in his usual seat, newspaper in one hand coffee in the other. He lowers the paper to meet my gaze, “Ready for your first day kiddo?” The worry on his face is evident and I bring my smile back into play.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” I make towards him and kiss his cheek. “Are you ready for your first day at your new job?”

He smiles, “As ready as I’ll ever be.” A pain spikes through my heart as the guilt over his sacrifices creeps back into my mind. He’s done his best to reassure me that what happened was not my fault. That Sean’s mental instability is nothing I could have predicted. No matter what he says, I still feel guilty. Had I never started seeing him, none of this would have happened. I look away quick, the smile was falling just as my tears were about to.

Grateful that in that moment, Max, the laziest basset hound you could ever find, comes to me seeking belly rubs. He flops to the floor, rolls over, and starts to beg. The smile on my face isn’t forced anymore. I adore this dog, a rescue my dad saved from a hit and run. The recovery was touch and go for a while, but in that time of recovery, we got to bond.

We eat our breakfast in peaceful silence. I poke and prod the food, I even manage to eat some before the butterflies take over the remaining space. The time was nearing closer. Soon I would have to get in the car and be chauffeured to school, no longer allowed to drive myself. Fear was still evident in our home, fear that Sean may get out, fear that he may find me. Until an unknown date and time I was not able to drive myself. My car was even sold to ensure that could not be used to find me.

“Ok, it’s time to go.” My mom says to me, concern coating each word. At that moment, an ominous feeling overtakes the butterflies. Something is coming.



Thank you for reading the continuation of my short story.

Have an awesome day and an awesome life! One love.


Copyright (c) 2018 Michelle’s Multifarious Musings
All rights reserved


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