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OSN SHORT STORY – The Dark Wooden Sky
By Hilde Kate Lysiak
Lilly had been new at the school that I taught at, she might have been seven or eight at
the time. I liked her a lot and thought that she was an extremely bright kid.
“Huh. That is strange,” I said smiling.
Lilly started laughing and then returned to reading her book.
The next day when I went back to class Lilly came yo my desk. She had a weird look on
her face. She looked worried and anxious, her long dark brown hair covering one of her
eyes.
“Is everything alright?,” I asked concerned.
“Well, yes I guess. I just am a little concerned,” she said.
“Why, what happened,” I asked.
“Well, remember how I told you about my
dreams, and how they tell what happened
the day before?” She said.
“Yes, what about them?”
“Well this was the same type of thing…
except it was different than all the others,”
she said.
“Why?” I asked.
“Well in this one something was different.
My day was going along as usual, and then
something happened. I got into the car to go
to school, then… it crashed. Then everything
went black, and I woke up,” she said.
“Oh, thats really normal. Thats just you
having a really strange dream, it happens all
the time to everyone,” I said and smiled
reassuringly.
“Yeah, I guess,” she said and walked back to
her desk.
At the end of the day I decided to go talk to
the guidance councilor about Lilly. I knew
the dream was normal but was worried that
she might have been a bit paranoid.
I told the councilor what happened.
“Wait who?,” he said leaning forward a little
bit.
“Lilly,” I repeated.
“I think your getting confused. Not Lilly. I
am sure that someone has told you what
happened to her yesterday.”
I don’t remember when it first happened, but
I know I was really little. Since I was so little
it was never anything strange to me. It was
just normal.
I didn’t think of it as a bad thing, at least not
at first. They would be things that I looked
forward to. I was happy whenever it came. I
looked at it as silly, as something that was my
friend and that I had no reason to be afraid
of it, why would I?
That faze didn’t last long though. As I got
older the dynamic started to change a bit.
The pictures would be more vivid, more
intense. Now instead of looking forward to
them, I would be dreading them.
It started telling me stuff I didn’t want to
know. Instead of silly stuff like what drink
my mom would order, now it was different.
It started telling me about things that had
nothing to do with me, about random people
that I had never met and had no idea who
they were, but they weren’t telling me
silly stuff anymore. It would be about
how there mom was gonna die, or
whatever awful things were going to
happen to them.
I didn’t want to know about these people.
I couldn’t stand it. It went to the point
where even when I woke up and was out
of it I couldn’t get the images out of my
mind. I would haunt me until the next
one came, and all I would think about
was the new one.
They didn’t come that often, but it was
too often. They would come maybe once
a week, but I would never be able to
predict when they would come.
Sometimes they would wait longer then
usual to torture me. I would wonder and
wonder when it would come. The waiting
was almost worse then the dream its self.
But then, when finally I would open up
to the possibility that it was over, and I
would begin to see hope for myself, it
would come and take all of my hope
away.
In my room I had a chest. It was big and
wooden and used to be filled with my
toys. Now it had all of the dreams.
Whenever I would wake up I drew it, the
dream. I don’t know why but I always
have.
I would look at them and think that it
was cool when I was little, and when the
dreams were light and silly, but now, now
I can’t look at them without being
scared.
I tried to stop drawing them but it came
more of an instinct, like something I had
to do. It didn’t feel like my movement
was a choice until the drawing was
finished, and I was forced to look at the
horrifying sight of it on my lap. The first
time I had a dark dream I just shoved it
in the wooden chest, not wanting to look
at the horrifying image any longer.
That stuck, and I began putting all of the
dream pictures in there. Now whenever I
looked at the giant wooden chest I felt a
touch of fear, like whatever was in there
was going to get to me, and that it could
whenever it wanted.
It haunted me along with the present
dreams.
I had just moved to a new town only a few
hours away from where I used to live
because my mom got a new job in the new
town. My school was nice, I really liked my
teacher. She seemed to understand me.
But just when everything was looking up, I
got a dream again. I had hoped that the
dreams would not follow me to my new
location but I guess that didn’t matter.
This dream wasn’t like the other horrifying
ones. This one was also horrifying, but in a
different way.
Instead of being about some random person who I had never met, it was about me.
The dream opened with me waking up, going about my day. When I got to my bus stop and I
got in the bus. But then it crashed and I woke up.
At first I was sure that I was going to die. I then convinced myself that I might have just been a
normal dream, normal people had normal dreams that meant nothing.
I got ready for school and walked down stairs and saw my mom sitting down crying. I didn’t
want to disturb her so I went on my way to school.
I decided that I was going to tell my teacher. Maybe that will help me feel better. I walked up
to her desk.
“Is everything alright?” My teacher asked concerned.
I closed my eyes.
Through the slats of my eye all I could see when I looked up was the stained dark brown lid of the wooden chest.
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