➳ Camille

When the dreams came in the dark, I tried to leave them there. The dreams are filled with nothing but fury. I try to rid myself of them, but they are ever present. Haunting me. Playing in my dreams like a TV with no off switch. 

Sometimes, I would wake up in tears. Sometimes, I would wake with a scream. The first time the dream came to me, I did a bit of both. My mom came in to comfort me, but I shooed her away. I was sixteen. I could handle myself.

I had gotten used to the dreams now. I woke up with a little less than a whimper before I got out of bed to get ready for school.

I slipped on my clothes for the day. A simple long sleeved shirt, a thin blue trench coat, black pants, and boots. I walked downstairs and quickly ate some breakfast before pulling on my gloves and stumbled outside. I made sure to grab my bag before stepping out the door.

Trudging through the snow, I made my way to school. The snow could not enter my boots, but the fridge breeze blew my long white hair back and my nose quickly turned red. Luckily, the building came into view before I could get too cold.

The school was massive and had three separate buildings. It was made of brick and wood, but looked as though it was made from glass because of the long windows along every hallway. The land around the school was a series of hills that were usually covered in an array of colorful wildflowers. The school was in a sort of comfortable valley.

My first class of the day was art. I quickly made my way to the related arts building, hugging myself to keep away the cold.

I opened the door to the art classroom to find my teacher, Ms. Gauthier, painting alone. I slipped off my coat and gloves and sat down at my usual easel. Almost immediately, I began to paint. I barely organized enough paint, but something inside was aching to express something. I didn’t know what I was showing until I painted fire dotting the landscape.

I was painting my dream.

War raged all around, fire burning, rage in the face of everyone who wasn’t dead on the ground yet. I kept painting. My hand grabbed the paintbrush with much force as my lips trembled. It was an awful sight to see in or out of my dreams.

“What are you doing?” Ms. Gauthier snapped. I had been so invested in painting that I didn’t notice her nor the other students that had trickled into the classroom. 

I didn’t say anything. 

“What are you doing?” she asked more firmly.

“I’m painting…” I mumbled.

“What are you painting though? That looks violent and bloody.”

“I’m painting war. War is bloody.”

Ms. Gauthier sighed. “I guess.” She then stalked away to go criticize some other student. I sighed with relief; it always annoyed me when she hovered over us.

When the bells from the tower began to ring, I quickly got up. I set away all the paints and carefully discarded the painting without signing it. I was afraid someone would find it and become upset with me.

Once art class was over, I headed to the main building for history and culture class. I pushed the thoughts of my dreams away, like I did almost every day, and got ready for class. Today was the day we would be receiving our letters from our pen pals in Grand Olea. We had been exchanging letters for a while. I was quite excited to hear from Anemone again. 

Our teacher quickly passed out the letters and then quickly went over the rules of responding. I already heard them many times, so I turned her out. I opened my letter carefully, knowing I would want to save both the outside and the inside, and took out the letter with a soft smile.

It read: “Camille,

“Your last letter was very short. I can tell something is on your mind. After discussing it with my parents, I’ve come up with a grand idea! 

“This is your official invitation to come to Grand Olea for a week! You can stay at my home, and don’t worry, we have space. You can also meet my family!

“If you can come, simply use the ticket in the envelope to take the train. I really hope you come! I think it will be fun! 

“Hope to see you soon,

“Anemone.”

I reached down into the letter and pulled out one ticket. Anemone wasn’t lying. The ticket was marked for a train going straight to Grand Olea. I would have to go to the Central Station in a week if I chose to go. I have never been out of Cerevaux, but it seemed like a good time. 

Excitement bubbled up inside me. Not only would I get to meet my year-long pen pal and friend, I would be getting to see a country I had never stepped foot in before!

The rest of the day was filled with excitement and schoolwork. I daydreamed about what it would be like in the nation of high-class elves while my teacher lectured me in math. I made a mental packing list while I walked down the halls from class to class. I even imagined what Anemone’s family would be like during lunch.

When I got home later that night, I asked my mom if I could go. She agreed with little convincing. Most likely because Grand Olea is safe and peaceful. Grand Olea is known for its booming economy, safety, and opportunity. It was too bad only elves could claim citizenship.

The week went by in a blur and before I knew it, I arrived at the train station. My single bag was stuffed to the brim. The train station was surprisingly empty. I had imagined crowds of people bustling around, but there was only me, the staff, and what looked like a small family at the station. 

I tried not to think too deeply about it. I had been doing the same thing when I was prompted to remember my dreams and the strategy seemed to work.

I boarded the train and sat down by myself. Setting my bag down, I pulled out my headphones and turned on my playlist of my favorite songs. I sat listening to music for nine hours, looking out the window until the train finally arrived in Grand Olea.

My jaw went slack as I looked at the grand nation from the train windows. Tall skyscrapers seemed to touch the crystal blue sky. Perfectly trimmed bushes lined every walkway and pristine fountains spewed clear water. I drank in the sights.

As I got off the train, I was still looking around at the greatness of it all. I noticed some unusual posters on the glass walls of some of the buildings. I could only make out a few words since they were written in elfish, but it looked violent. Flashbacks of my dream filled my mind. It lurched me out of my state of wonder and I immediately began to tremble as I remembered the dreams.

“Camille!” a soft voice shouted. I looked around to find an elf with flaming red hair, wrapped in a flowing green dress that swayed in the slight breeze. “You’re here!”

I smiled at her warmness; my horrific thoughts melting away. “Anemone! You look wonderful. The photo at the beginning of the year made you look so short,” I said with a chuckle, mind flickering back to when we first met through our letters. I didn’t have rage-filled dreams to worry about then.

Anemone giggled. “I always look so short in photos. Now, come on! Let’s get to my house! I can’t wait for you to meet my family.” 

Anemone led me to a pale blue limousine decorated with gold trimming. When we got in, I found long, sofa-like seats and trays of food. The floor was carpeted and the roof was translucent. I was once again speechless as the wonders of Grand Olea.

“Do you like it? We have four other cars too, but I thought this one might be better since we have a long ride,” Anemone said.

“It’s very nice. How long is the ride, though?”

“Around two hours. Unless my father decides to hover, then we can skip most of the traffic. However, I doubt he has the energy to hover us two, himself, and the car.”

“Okay.” I waited a moment, trying to figure out what to say. “So… what were those posters about? I can barely read elfish.”

“Oh, I’ll have to teach you some. But, uh, they were about…” Anemone bit her lip. I waited for her to explain, but she didn’t.

“About what?” I prodded.

“We can discuss it over dinner.”

I sighed. Anemone clearly wasn’t going to tell me what was going on. I guess I would have to wait for her family to explain it to me.

If I was honest, the posters wouldn’t have meant anything to me if they hadn’t reminded me of my dreams. The violent posters were painfully similar to my raging dreams.

We arrived at Anemone’s house after what seemed like much more time than two hours. Yet, though I was a bit moody, I could not deny the beauty of the house. 

The house was built inside of a giant oak tree and covered by surrounding shrubs. Ivy climbed up the walls and created an extraordinary pattern. The front entrance was a large double door made of crystals and the windows were stained glass paintings. We drove around the tree to the back, where Anemone’s dad parked the car. 

“Come on! Let’s go inside. I decorated your room just for you!” Anemone exclaimed, opening the door, a bubbly grin lighting her face.

“Okay, okay. Calm down a bit,” I said, blue eyes flashing with a similar, yet more toned down, excitement.

“Sorry! I’m just so excited. I’ve never had a friend come to my house!”

I chuckled. “It’s fine.” I grabbed my bag and we walked inside. 

Anemone threw open the doors excitedly. I walked inside to find myself in a large, circular room with a spiral staircase in the center. Gold and green furniture filled the room and paintings lined the walls. Each one looked to be handmade. One of Anemone, who appeared short again. One was a family portrait from years ago. Another was a dark red-haired boy with pointed ears. He was pale with emerald green eyes and a sharp jawline. He looked like he could’ve been blown over by a small breeze.

“Is this William?” I asked, pointing to the painting.

“Yes, it is,” a voice answered from behind me.