We of happy,
We of sad.
We of despair,
And we of glad.
We were brought into this world
by a cruel and broken hand.
In my dream, there were damaged and distraut creatures. They were circling me, encroaching on me. There was no escape, and all that I could do was huddle in the middle. right as I thought that there was no hope of survival, they stopped, and started to run rings around me. as they ran, they sang a song that made me shudder and squirm. It was horrible, one of the dreams where you try to wake up but you can’t leave- you want to know what happens. These types of dreams plague my sleeping mind, dreams of death, dreams of creatures that could possibly be from another world. When I finally woke, my pillows were soaked with sweat, and I could not stop shaking. My skin was pale as talc, and felt clammy. Suddenly, I felt sick. Clutching my stomach, I rushed out into the cold, moist air of morning. I threw myself into the long grass and became violently ill. When I was done, I still had the feeling, but not as bad. When I got up, my legs felt wobbly, like I had thrown up my energy with my stomach contents. There was no way that I could tell the futures of people today. Not in my condition. While I was pondering how my day would turn out, Reg came out, saw what heppened, and rushed over to me. Crinkling his nose at the smell, he asked if I was okay. I knew that if I played my cards right, I could stay in my tent. I slowly shook my head, and clutched my stomach again, as if I was going to puke again. “Ella, are you sick?” Some genius here. “Does it look like I’m sick? Uhhh, yeah,” I replied smartly.
“Do you want to skip the fortunes? Lets do that.”
Yes. I had won. I nodded, slowly again, and asked if we had any medicine.
“I’m going to go into town to get some food, so I’ll pick some up. Do you need anything else?”
“Can I get some strawberry ice-cream?”
“Sure. Anything else? What type of medicine?
“Asprin, please. Can I get some watermelon?” Did I mention that I liked fruit?
“I think it’s out of season, but I’ll get some if I see it.”
“Thanks Reg.”
As he walked to the wagon, I slowly trudged over to my tent. I still didn’t trust my stomach, seeing that it had already betrayed me. “Ugggg.” I felt like I was going to be sick again, but that wasn’t possible. My stomach was empty. I entered my tent, and when I bent over to lay down, something caught my eye. There was a little acorn on my bed. I picked it up, and was surprised at its weight. The little acorn was hollow! As I looked closer, I noticed that there was a small scrap of paper protruding from the cap. When I pulled the paper, the entire cap came off! The thing that most surprised me was the writing on the paper. It was small, and fancy. I looked closer, and, as tricky as it was, I read it.
We of happy,
We of sad.
We were here before you lived,
We will be here when you're dead.
The note was ominous, and as crazy as it sounds, funny. I thought for sure that it was just a joke from Lei, or mabye even Reg. But Reg had left by the time I got into the tent, and Lei sleeps in most days. She could not wake up this early. “Has” to get her sleep in, or something. I could care less some days, but not today. I wanted to know how the acorn happened to get on my bed while I was outside puking my guts out. Soon, I got very frustrated. Every person that I thought would do this had an alibi. How can an acorn walk into a tent by itself? Even if it could, that wouldn’t explain the paper. How would a little acorn get a scrap of paper that has a note telling me that I was going to die get on my bed? I realized that I wouldn’t be needing the medicine any time soon, because all this pondering made me forget that I was sick. Well, at least I would get my favorite ice-cream. That fact made me happy. Half-heartedly, I picked up the acorn and looked at it from as many angles as I could. There was no sign of little legs or wings, or even life at all. “Gah.” I moaned, and slumped over my bed. My head hit something hard, and pain exploded on the back. I didn’t seem to be fatally hurt, but it sure seemed like it. As I lay on my back, staring up at the ceiling of the tent, I started sobbing. Not violent sobbing, but the quiet, secret sobbing. “I hate my life,” I whispered to myself. “Why is it so Weird?”
