Fluttering, Prey-Like, and Helpless. Surely I will wake up soon... I will stay here, against this tree, and wait for this drunken feeling to go away.
From Create Your Own Story
Slowly, it does. The scents are calming, and you can see in the space between the trees that the moon is bright and full above you, the sight of the stars unhindered by even a wisp of clouds. The pleasant chill of the night sweeps across your bare arms and rustles your light, knee-length skirt.
But still, the dream does not end. Or even shift, as your dreams tend to do when there's no plot to excite the mind anymore.
Out of habit, you clutch the silver heart of a locket hanging from a delicate chain around your neck, and try to calm your nerves. The sounds of laughter coming from the strangers fifteen feet behind you thrills more fear in you, but you know better than to run off into the woods, away from any potential help... or warmth.
The effects are fading, but the sweet and beckoning taste of something still sits on your tongue. What was it that was done to you? Why does everything before this strange dream remain so fuzzy? And what, you wonder with annoyance, is this strange feeling of want that lingers in your body, causing you to fidget on your feet?
Do you:
