The sleeping little girl
73.
There was once a little girl. She was quite unique. The little girl was no princess or royalty. But she lived in a castle surrounded by tall towers.
Guarding the doors were giant wolves made of black smoke with sharp teeth and claws. The wolves would pace the perimeter, sniffing at the doors and windows. The little girl was scared of them, she wasn't sure if they were watching over her or waiting for an opening to devour her. So she would wait, holding a knife she had sneaked from the tiny kitchen. She kept the weapon under her pillow when she slept.
Time passed and the shadow wolves with red eyes watched the little girl grow into a beautiful young woman. Their mouth watered at the prospect of the feast. The girl was sure by now that this was a prison she couldn't escape. But what she feared the most was...if she found a way out, the wolves would be waiting to tear her to pieces. She searched every nook and cranny of the old castle. Overturned every brisks from the attic to the basement. Flipped through every dusty book in the gloomy library for a clue of the reason why she was locked in this place. But her quest was fruitless.
And so time passed slowly in the old castle. The pack grew eager, restless, and impatient. They scratched at the door and windows and howled toward the towers. The girl had enough of the harassment. So she put on a leather armor she had found in the attic full of spider webs. Grabbed a rusty sword hanging over the mantel of the chimney. Gathered her courage and strength and marched to face her destiny. To hell, the fear of death. To hell, if she succumbed to mortal wounds. The girl preferred to die a death of her choosing than a slow suffocating one with old age, locked in prison when all hope is gone.
Her hand trembled as she reached for the knob. Never once she had thought about touching the door. And the wolves gathered around, their breaths merging into growls. They clawed their feet nervous against the ground. Her heart was ready to burst. She gripped her sword tightly ready to strike. Then she turned the knob in one swift movement and pulled the door wide open...
On the other side was...
Complete darkness...
All the sounds were gone...
There were no wolves...
Then there was no castle...
And no sword in her hand and no armor on her back...
The deep waterly darkness pressed her to the bottom. Forced her eyes to close again. Sleep settle. Deeper in dreamland. Deeper. Until the little girl didn't know who she was. What was her name? She slept and the dreams unmade her. Unravel her thoughts. Words lost meaning. Images bleed out. Life as it was...a distant echo.
Still, her mate whispered to her. The red thread of fate...lingered.
"Jacob," she held on to the name like the last hope. A fraying thread.