SUNSHINE AURA – poetry. short stories. community.

Again, it was night. She lay in her bed, the covers wrapped tight around her body and pulled up to her chin. Her bloodshot eyes hurt from several nights of doing everything in her power to stay awake, followed by days spent working at the computer. The cycle was slowly deteriorating the line between awake and asleep. Ever since the dream where she met the mysterious, yet beautiful, man in the graveyard, she feared sleep. Although the dreams started out romantic and filled with potential, they had transformed into nightmares that made her feel trapped. Each time sleep overtook her, she would be back in the graveyard. Barefoot, cold, alone. In a sheer nightgown that felt akin to nakedness. Exposed. Sometimes she would wander for a bit, following the light of the moon away from the headstones, until he found her. Other times, she would be still and wait for him, defeated. On this night, she was determined to confront him once and for all. The hours ticked by and she rolled on her side, sighing into the pillow. And there she was…the nightgown had small tears near the hips from the last time she tried to run away. It had snagged on several little branches poking out from all sides of a dying tree. She wrapped her arms around her chest, feeling her hardened nipples pressed again the sheer cloth. Her toes curled at the biting touch of the cold, stiff grass. It felt like an evening no more than two days after a big snow. “Where are you?” she bravely called out. Enough was enough. The moonlight shone, as always, illuminating the path a few feet in front of her. She went amongst the headstones, passing by the rows now committed to memory. Henry, Waldorf, Marquez, Ho, Lawrence, and Grimm, she whispered aloud. She was just looking at the last headstone in this line – Banks – when she turned her head around and was face-to-face with him. “Who are you?” it sounded like more of an accusation than a question. He did not respond. He did not smile nor frown. Just watched her, eyes preening over every inch of her body. She wondered how this man originally drew her in. And it dawned on her that she was foolish. She mistook his beauty for safety, his apparent desire of her for genuine care. But now she could feel his true intentions, and they were not good. “What do you want from me? I want to be left alone!” she screamed. He took a step forward. She stood her ground. Her body language was demanding and confident. Isn’t it obvious? she heard in her mind. He never spoke aloud. Always in her thoughts, only. “No, it’s not.” She gulped. To command you, he replied. “Command me? What do you mean by that?” She hated that she took a step back. But it was a reflex of self-preservation. It was in that moment she became aware that this was a dream and she was asleep. Sometimes it took a while for that realization to emerge. Should she wake herself up? Leave this restrictive trap? No – please, stay. Let me explain. The voice in her head was pleading. Logically, she should stand her ground. Emotionally, though, his words softened her resolve, just the slightest bit. “I do not wish to be commanded, no matter what it is you mean by that,” she said. He smiled – devilishly. You will.