N O R AXWEISS
he who wants a rose
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzmust respect the thorn.
Winter break had always been a bit of respite for Nora. There was still plenty of work to be done, but it all felt a little less pressing when school wasn’t in session. Nora had worked too hard to ever slack off, though, so she stayed busy enough. She had work to do, a yoga flow to complete, an extensive skincare routine to keep up with. Her life was both incredibly demanding and unbelievably dull but it was the life she’d created for herself, and she was proud.
Nora always tried to get plenty of sleep when she could. It was true that she often stayed up entirely too late finishing projects, or using the early hours of the morning to catch up on tv shows, but without sleep you get sloppy. Sleep keeps you sharp, helps you stay youthful. That’s what her mother used to say, anyway. As if a woman wasted away into obscurity the moment she turned thirty.
She had bizarre dreams that night: a little girl with raven hair, poison, and more jealousy and anger than she thought she’d ever felt in her life. The dreams were so vivid, more like memories than anything her mind could have concocted on it’s own. Some of the things in those dreams seemed almost unthinkable, but when Nora woke she would think about how she understood them. Some things, no matter how horrible, were simply necessary for the sake of survival. Perhaps it was evil, to understand murder, or perhaps it was just human.
Either way, the dreams hung over Nora’s head like a fog when she woke. She half expected to wake in the silken decadence of a medieval palace, instead of on her 100 thread count cotton sheets. As she blinked away the sleep in her eyes, she had to remind herself that it had only been a dream. Nothing more. She’d had vivid dreams before (though nothing quite like this, where the dream stuck to her head and her heart like a thick coating of caramel; encasing her very breath in a sickeningly sweet reminder that she, too, is replaceable).
She picked up a hairbrush from atop her dresser and as she ran it through her hair, all she could think of was brushing poison through a young woman’s hair, and how justified it seemed to be. Pushing those thoughts from her mind, she set out to get dressed. She could use some fresh air after a dream like that. A walk would likely do her some good. Maybe she’d pick up a “fancy” cup of coffee while she was out. Something about it being made by someone else always improved the flavor.
As she stood in front of her mirror, applying a layer of red lipstick, she had to fight a very real instinct to start asking questions, which was ridiculous. Mirrors don’t talk, and speaking to them was foolish.
Really, she knew. Of course she did; she wasn’t stupid. It was easier, though, to pretend it had only been a particularly vivid dream. This was the real world; there weren’t girls named Snow White or evil queens with magical powers. Just Nora; an unreasonably strict vice principal with an overly aggressive skincare routine. After all, she assumed anyone with the word “evil” in her title wasn’t going to be looked on as a shining member of the community if it came to light. Best to just carry on as if nothing had even happened, if she could.
Though, as Nora walked out her front door, she caught the tail end of a monstrous roar, somewhere just outside town. Something inside her knew that everything was rapidly changing in Essex. Well, no use sitting around fretting about it. Getting some air would still help her think, after all.
Nora always tried to get plenty of sleep when she could. It was true that she often stayed up entirely too late finishing projects, or using the early hours of the morning to catch up on tv shows, but without sleep you get sloppy. Sleep keeps you sharp, helps you stay youthful. That’s what her mother used to say, anyway. As if a woman wasted away into obscurity the moment she turned thirty.
She had bizarre dreams that night: a little girl with raven hair, poison, and more jealousy and anger than she thought she’d ever felt in her life. The dreams were so vivid, more like memories than anything her mind could have concocted on it’s own. Some of the things in those dreams seemed almost unthinkable, but when Nora woke she would think about how she understood them. Some things, no matter how horrible, were simply necessary for the sake of survival. Perhaps it was evil, to understand murder, or perhaps it was just human.
Either way, the dreams hung over Nora’s head like a fog when she woke. She half expected to wake in the silken decadence of a medieval palace, instead of on her 100 thread count cotton sheets. As she blinked away the sleep in her eyes, she had to remind herself that it had only been a dream. Nothing more. She’d had vivid dreams before (though nothing quite like this, where the dream stuck to her head and her heart like a thick coating of caramel; encasing her very breath in a sickeningly sweet reminder that she, too, is replaceable).
She picked up a hairbrush from atop her dresser and as she ran it through her hair, all she could think of was brushing poison through a young woman’s hair, and how justified it seemed to be. Pushing those thoughts from her mind, she set out to get dressed. She could use some fresh air after a dream like that. A walk would likely do her some good. Maybe she’d pick up a “fancy” cup of coffee while she was out. Something about it being made by someone else always improved the flavor.
As she stood in front of her mirror, applying a layer of red lipstick, she had to fight a very real instinct to start asking questions, which was ridiculous. Mirrors don’t talk, and speaking to them was foolish.
Really, she knew. Of course she did; she wasn’t stupid. It was easier, though, to pretend it had only been a particularly vivid dream. This was the real world; there weren’t girls named Snow White or evil queens with magical powers. Just Nora; an unreasonably strict vice principal with an overly aggressive skincare routine. After all, she assumed anyone with the word “evil” in her title wasn’t going to be looked on as a shining member of the community if it came to light. Best to just carry on as if nothing had even happened, if she could.
Though, as Nora walked out her front door, she caught the tail end of a monstrous roar, somewhere just outside town. Something inside her knew that everything was rapidly changing in Essex. Well, no use sitting around fretting about it. Getting some air would still help her think, after all.