Crimson Echo by Dusty Burns Page B

before they closed and my dreams tuned her out. I enjoyed the first cluster of dreams.
               Butterflies and daisies surrounded me in the peaceful garden my mind had created. In the distance I could hear a faint waterfall as it gushed and rippled into a stream. I noticed I was dressed in an old fashioned, white silk nightgown that flowed and fanned out in the warm summer air.
                My feet seemed to glide underneath me as I made my way to a stone bench. Gently, I lowered myself onto the hard bench and took in the scenery; it was all too beautiful to be real. An old oak tree swayed in the breeze like something out of a movie and my eyes followed a trail of pansies that led up over a small hill and into a horde of yellow roses. I was spellbound by the view, which looked more like a Thomas Kinkade painting rather than any form of reality. The wind started to pick up and my exquisite painting began to lift from the borders of my mind.
               At the edge of the small spring I caught a glimpse of something moving quickly, hiding itself behind the whistling oak tree. My peaceful serenity was starting to crumble. I tried to keep myself calm, but it wasn’t long until I began running— running from something or towards something, whatever it was I couldn’t see it.
                I trampled through flowers and moss on my way to my destination. The colors were spectacular in all their brilliance, I wish I could have stopped and enjoyed it more, but I continued to flee. And then I heard twigs snapping from behind me, I felt my breath hitch and trudged on.
                I ran faster, never looking back. I couldn’t bring myself to look at the assailant, because that would make it all too real. I darted in and out of tress for what seemed like an eternity and then I skidded to a stop.
                In the middle of the forest deep under the trees appeared a tiny cottage, it looked as if it was actually built into the mountain side behind it and the grass was a dewy green that bent sideways in the wind. An old gray picket fence caught my attention immediately and the mailbox at the end of the trail looked ancient.
               A cobblestone path led up to a bright blue door with tiny windows and a cloud of purplish gray smoke escaped the chimney. A crack in one of the square windows and faulty lighting made me think that the house hadn’t been occupied in a while.
                I didn’t stop long enough to knock, I just barged right in. I closed the curtains and rested against the old blue door for half a second to catch my breath and then ran some more. I quickly looked around the room noticing everything was left in shambles— it looked like the place had been ransacked.
               Picture frames had been ripped from the walls, couch cushions slit, end tables turned over and papers covered the floor. As I shoved a pair of kitchen chairs out of my way I spotted the back door and ran for it. Simultaneously, I reached for the handle and paused when the front door slammed. Ice cold chills crept up my spine and I shuttered as a gust of wind whipped around me. I drew in a breath and turned to stare at my adversary as he closed in. I hadn’t expected this.
               There he was in all his thundering glory, dressed in all black as usual. A hint of confusion marred his flawless face. He was breathing heavy and his hair was disheveled. He was holding something tattered in his left hand and tried to conceal it when his eyes followed mine. He was being cautious, not making any sudden moves. I wanted to run to him and throw my arms around him , but I was frozen with fear. He was shaking.
    “Kane, what are you doing here? Someone’s coming.” I spoke, barely over a whisper.
    “Lilith, why are you running from me? You know I won’t hurt you.” He ignored me. “I brought you something, but I suppose they aren’t as