A Dreamer's Dream

I flipped to the next page of the brown, papery book so fast, the edges tore a bit. I winced with the sound it made. I hated when any of my books tore, but I was far too eager to know what would happen in the next page.

Would the guy kiss the girl after so many chapters of stalling? Will the kiss save the kingdom? Were they doomed since their union was forbidden? Would the villain wreak havoc at the dying minute? The possibilities were endless. And as I read on, the pot of beans I had ready to eat on fire faded into the recesses of my mind.

I began to daydream. An occurrence that showed itself on two occasions. When the story was too captivating, that I had to pause to immerse myself in the characters, see myself in the minds of the hero or villain and try to steer their lives myself. Or when the story was far too boring, that I built my own world in my head with my own characters. My own story flowing into these characters and giving them life. Thankfully, it was the former. Far easier that way.

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“You refuse to see me for who I am, Carina,” Cardinal James said, his deep pools gazing at me with longing.

I averted my gaze. “What you want cannot be, my Lord. Our worlds are far too parallel. They cannot meet lest disaster awaits.”

He held my hand fast. “But we can avert the danger. If our love for each other is strong enough, we can scale the tallest mountains, and swerve through the thickest forests. We can —”

“But it isn’t .”

James’ brows knit in confusion. “What isn’t?”

“Our love. There is no love, James. Love is something that is meant to be. And ours was doomed from the very start.”

“But that’s not true. You do love me, don’t you?”

When I remained silent, I saw a flash of panic in his eyes. “Carina,” he squeezed my fingers hard. “You do love me, don’t you?”

“You’re hurting me, James.”

He all but shook me. “Answer the question!”

I looked at him then. The loving eyes that would immediately turn cold the moment things didn’t go his way. His hands were still squeezing the life out of my fingers, but I no longer felt pain. The vision placed itself clearly in my mind’s eye. The vision of how my life would be being Cardinal James’ wife. Katrina had been right. He would be my downfall. And the downfall of my kingdom.

“No.” I muttered coldly.

“What?”

With all the strength, I could muster, I wrenched my hands from his grasp. “You asked whether I loved you, James. And my answer is no. No, I don’t love you. I never have and I never will.” I spat.

Looking at his face then was like watching a chameleon slowly come out of the surface where it had camouflaged its colours into. “You don’t love me, Carina?”

I knew I had pushed this dangerous man to the wall, but I was fat too gone to stop now. “No, I don’t. Are you suddenly incapable of hearing?”

He smiled. It was a cold, menacing smile. “My brother was right. You’re a slut undeserving of love.” His words cut. Hard and deep, but I hoped my face didn’t betray the turmoil I felt or the steady shredding of my heart.

“Do as you wish, James. But leave my kingdom out of it.”

His face contorted into a sneer. “Mark my words. You and your kingdom will burn.” And with that he dashed out of the living room where we had sat. But I didn’t register till I heard the rough click. I ran to the door and tried it. It was locked. The bastard had locked me in.

“James! James! Open this door at once. Open this door or I swear by all the gods of the land, I will —”

I stopped short as I was accosted by a strong smell. A small so acrid it could only be one thing. The urchin had set my house on fire.

“James, you vile man! Open this door!” The smell grew stronger. Wait. This was far too near to be the entire house. Where was this smell coming from?

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“This girl has killed me!” The voice of my Mom broke through the haze of my steep fantasies. Mom was back from the market. But why was she yelling? I sniffed the air. I could smell it now. The acrid stench of something burning. I leapt from the bed, nearly spraining my ankle in the process. “Eiiii, my beans!”

Jhymi🖤

My entry to The Freewriters' Daily Prompt.

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