He stands alone beneath the stars.
The entire sky ignites into flames, is if a new sun is being born. People shreik and scatter. But he stands there, unable to move, unable to breath. Then he sees the tree, darker then a shadow aginst the flaming sky. It's burning branches writhe like deadly serpants. They reach for him. The firey branches come closer. He tries to run, he tries to escape, but his legs are made of stone.
My face is burning! My eyes!
He hides his eyes, he screams.
My face is burning! My eyes! My face is burning!

He awoke, persperation stung his eyes. Blinking, he wiped his face with his handsThey felt cool aginst his cheeks. Streaching his arms, he felt again that ever pressant pain between his shoulder blades. Still there! He wished it would go away. It'd been twelve years since he'd washed ashore the beach of Whales. The wounds to his head had long since healed, though he still remembered nothing of his life before being thrown on those rocks. Why should this wound last longer? He shrugged, like much else, he would never know.

He began to shuffle his hands around his bed. The bedroom wasn't so much a mess as it was simply clustered. His room mate was never around, always off fucking his girlfriend somewhere and rarely went to classes. His hands found what he'd been looking for, cigarette. Sweet, cancer causeing reliefe. He picked up his matches, yes, too cheap to buy a lighter last week, and sat up. He'd fallen asleep in his nondescript black pants from the previous night and so needed only to pull a long black jacket over his bare chest slip his room key into his pocket, and leave the dorm room, sans shoes. He placed one, slim and scared hand on the gaurdrail, his room being on the second floor and found his way down the steps.

The young man walking slowly across the doorm campus towards the ash can was thin with coal black hair. His skin was darkly tanned but his eyes, one could not see for they were hidden beneath a black length of cloth tied about them like a blindfold. when he'd finally reached the much desired ash can, he struck a match, slipped a cigarette between his lips and lit it.

The blind man took one long drag on his cigarette and then leaned back on the wall, exhailing a cloud of white smoke. He stood in silance. Why did that dream continue to haunt him?


((God I can't spell!))

((grrr.....that was the wrong s/n.....Stupid Raven who dosn't sign off his stupid screen name. *kicks Rave's SN*))