Ghost lullaby

In the empty room on the end of the hallway this time, in another room the next or in the hallway itself the time after that. People have come to the place before and all have claimed to have heard it. A strange sound on moonless nights like a soft breeze of the wind. Others claim it's like a musicbox that makes soft plinking sounds but it's always a strange tune. When you try to look for it the sound moves or disappears only to reappear somewhere else. The sound both follows and is followed by you as you walk through the place. The longer you stay in the place you get the feeling the sound gains volume as though amplified by the walls around you. It gives you the feeling that you are getting closer to the source. The sound now fills the room you entered but still is it impossible to tell what it is, although you get the feeling that you know it. It keeps luring you to the center of the room, where the feeling of familiarity is coming from. As you try to figure out where you heard the sound before you come in the center of the room and you close your eyes to focus on the sound. Slowly your mind fills with flashes of memories of the past, except it's not your past. Although the memories have a calming effect they are laced with an eery edge as if something bad is going to happen. You open your eyes again and look around the room to find the source of the sound but you can't find anything. Although the room has been empty for a long time you can still see what used to be in the room, as if the images are carried by the sound. Then the sound grows more familiar and your feeling of unease grows as you still can't find the source. The sound changes into a lullaby as it keeps awakening the memories that are not yours. You start humming along with the lullaby and as soon as you hear a voice you realise that it is your own that is singing along at first unclear but slowly gaining power. You notice that its an lullaby that you should not know. While this is happening the flashes of memories increase and your sences are on overdrive. Someone is coming up from behind you, or is it an memory? The line between present and past blurrs as the lullaby reaches its peak and you turn around. The air in the room grows cold the sound stops and everything turns black.

City of angels

They are all around as I walk daydreaming through the city. Unknown to me and themselves angels are walking around me, in the street I currently walk in or in the next street over. A Lady is helping an elderly woman crossing the street. She doesn't consider herself an angel but with a bit imagination I can see the white wings on the lady's back. To  the old woman she is an angel that helped her out. Not much later a young man helps up a girl that tripped. Again I can see the stereotype with wings. I think that people that help others can be considered one in one way or the other. If you look at it that way everybody is somebody's angels in a way and if everybody is an angel then is the entire city filled with them. A man that is sitting on a bench next to a girl that is talking to him with tearfilled eyes and the man then putting his arm around her in an attempt to comfort her while listening to her story. A way to be an angel to somebody just by listening to them and give them a vent out of their troubles. These are some of the best angels that there are, for they have infinetly broad backs to help carry a load of someone else. Although this city is filled with them there are those that stand out more than others. Be it with their actions or just being there at the right time and place. Their wings are more clear than others and we have to cherish them the most because in my eyes they are the angels to the angels. So daydream and see the wings for yourselves in your own city of angels for I'm sure that they are there. Unknown to you and themselves.

girl in the rain

I sit on a bench at a bus-stop waiting for the bus and staring out infront of me. On the other side of the street i see a girl. Radiant as the sun she seems unaware of the rain coming down or of her surroundings. Her moves surprise me and catch my attention. Two quick steps forward followed by a jump just before a pirouette. Unaware of her surroundings she passes people that look at her with as much surprise on their faces as on mine. One leg goes up to her back as her upper body moves down. Then she moves up again, lowering her leg. A slow pirouette and then two steps back. For some odd reason she keeps being stuck in my gaze with a dreamy look on her face. The rain intensifies and more people take shelter at the bus stop, forcing me to stand up in order to see her. I happily give my seat to an elderly lady and move a bit forward. Still she seems unaware of the rain as she continues her dance on the other side of the street. Her leg goes up again, this time infront of her while she leans back. Her hands land on the ground at the bottom of a puddel. A short pause. The bus announces its arrival with the sound of its diesel engine and I look away from the girl to see if it is the bus that I need. When I look back I see the girl is standing normally again and looking at me. The smile she shows warms me inside and makes me forget my surroundings only to be thrown back into reality by the bus that fills my view. In the bus I look at the other side of the street to see the girl making a bow and waving at me, before the bus takes me away from her.

forest of dreams

Lying in bed, you feel the sleep taking over your body. Slowly closing your eyes you ascend in your mind to the place of places. They rise before you as an ancient forest, dreams for you to pick from like you would pick a tree for christmas, although these trees are much bigger. The forest stretches out before you in every direction you look. A small breeze makes the leaves rustle as you look around. Trees you touch show a film, the embodyment of your dreams. In one you're a dog chasing after a ball that has been thrown, in another you're a manager holding a speech at a big banquet. Each tree, a different dream. But where good dreams exist bad ones do aswell, and you see some trees that look as if they were about to die. As you touch the tree you see why. In this dream you loose control over your car and crash into a bridge. Startled you take a few steps back from your dream. A dream of death, a dyeing tree, even in this quiet forest not everything is merry and good, even here bad things happen. But in this forest you can step back from the bad things. It's for you to pick your dreams out of this forest, good or bad. This is your dream forest