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femgenficathonTitle: Like a Blanket on Your Shoulder
Author:![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
medicinal_mirth
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Prompt: # 28 -- But if these people of the future are better than we are, they will, perhaps, look back at us with feelings of pity and tenderness for struggling souls who once divined a little of what the future would bring. --George Sand.
Summary: A dream isn't always just a dream, but maybe that's something she's better off not knowing.
A/N: Thanks toignipes for the speedy beta and reminding me that Mary wasn't a Winchester at age twelve *g* The title is taken from lyrics belonging to Concrete Blonde's Lullabye.
Author:
medicinal_mirthRating: G
Warnings: None
Prompt: # 28 -- But if these people of the future are better than we are, they will, perhaps, look back at us with feelings of pity and tenderness for struggling souls who once divined a little of what the future would bring. --George Sand.
Summary: A dream isn't always just a dream, but maybe that's something she's better off not knowing.
A/N: Thanks to
ignipes for the speedy beta and reminding me that Mary wasn't a Winchester at age twelve *g* The title is taken from lyrics belonging to Concrete Blonde's Lullabye.Like a Blanket on Your Shoulder
Mary was a lucky girl. She'd been so sure she would hate San Angelo, having grown used to the convenience of a large city. She'd nearly cried when Dad broke the news about the move. They had unpacked the last box just as she was about to start the sixth grade, though, and it turned out she wasn't the only one a little nervous and a little out of place on the first day of school.
She made good friends and grew to love the thick accents and muggy weather. Mom and Dad stopped fussing over her, and after a year of Texas History and Home Economics, summer finally arrived. Swimming and fishing and running wild with her friends made up her days, and today was no different. But lately, her nights were making it difficult to enjoy her days.
"Come on, Mary! What're you, a baby or something? Jump!"
"The water's fine, for cryin' out loud."
"Does widdle Maweekins need a push?"
Scott, Carrie, and Bryan laughed and cajoled until they realized that she really wasn't going to jump in, like she'd already done dozens of times since the start of summer.
The rope was scratchy against the palms of Mary's hands; heavy and secure, just like always. There was no real danger here by the river's edge. But this time was different. The water was cloudy -- more so than usual, thanks to the thunderstorm that rolled through last night – and she couldn't stop watching the way it bubbled and swirled as her friends splashed and swam, stirring up the silt with gangly arms and legs. With the slight roar of the river where it ran faster a ways downstream... it was too much... too much like...
She shivered, trying to clear her mind of nonsense, but her friends noticed anyway.
"Hey, Mary. You okay?"
It was concern she heard in Scott's voice as she let go of the rope and backed away, and that made her feel stupid. Childish and stupid because she had best friends to go swimming with but all she could do was--
"I've got to go... something I forgot." She plastered a big, fake smile on her face. "See you later!"
She turned and walked away. Carrie called out to her, "Do you want me to come with you?"
But Mary kept moving, walking faster and faster until she was certain they couldn't see her anymore. Then she ran.
She'd left her shoes back at the river, but that didn't matter. The leaves and soft grass under her feet were comforting, anyway. Even the occasional prick from a broken branch reminded her that this was no dream, she was wide awake and everything was fine.
"Whoa! Where you going in such a hurry, sweetie?"
Mary struggled away from a sudden firm grasp, but stilled when she recognized the throaty laugh.
"Oh! Mrs. Worther! I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going and–"
"Calm down, honey, I'm fine! Never been better, as a matter of fact. You, on the other hand, look like you've seen a ghost."
Mrs. Worther lived a quarter-mile down the road, made the best meatloaf ever, and always had a smile on her face, even though she was old and had trouble walking. When they'd first moved in, she'd come over and helped Mom hang up the curtains and figure out where the pictures should hang on the walls. Mary had never been happier to see someone in her whole life, because she hated hanging curtains, and their house had loads of them.
"Shouldn't you be down at the river with those charming friends of yours?" Mrs. Worther asked, smiling.
Mary couldn't help it; she shivered again.
"What's wrong? Here, sit down and talk a while." She urged Mary to sit down on a large flat rock. Mary felt guilty, because it was close to the ground and she knew it had to be hard for Mrs. Worther to bend her knees, but she did as she was asked. Mrs. Worther asked, "Did that Scott Williams get fresh with you? Not that I'd be complaining if a cute boy like that smiled at me the way he does at you."
"No! He didn't get fresh with me!" Mary insisted a little too quickly. She turned her face downward, letting the hairs that had fallen out of her ponytail hide her embarrassment. Scott hadn't been fresh, but he had been smiling. Mary felt her face blush and warm at the thought, but that just reminded her of her dreams again.
"Mary," Mrs. Worther said softly, "I think you need to tell me what's wrong."
The problem was, Mary wasn't entirely sure. It was just a dream, right? So what if she'd had it a few times? So what if she saw things while she was awake that reminded her of her nightmare?
But then a warm arm was around her shoulders, pulling her close, and it was so easy just to melt into the embrace of the first person in Texas who had made her feel like maybe it wouldn't be so bad here.
"I've... there's this dream I keep having. I don't understand it, but it's making me jump at shadows." She managed to say it without whispering or letting her voice crack. She was nearly thirteen, after all.
"Tell me about the dream, honey." Mrs. Worther's voice was soothing, and she smelled like... meatloaf? Of all things!
Mary calmed a little more. "Did you make meatloaf?"
Mrs. Worther laughed. "No, but I had to change my plans rather suddenly. Now tell me, Mary. Tell me about your dream."
"It's... it's hard to say." Mary hesitated, but she did want to tell someone so she wouldn't feel like she was going crazy. "I mean. It's like I'm underwater, the sounds in my ears. But it's hot too. The river here gets warm, but in my dream it's like it's boiling or something. And everything looks strange too. It's not the river, maybe a swimming pool? Oh, I don't know! I don't know what it means, or why it scares me! It just feels wrong, and I really don't want to have that dream anymore."
Mary heard the catch in her voice, and she wanted to cry in frustration because she knew she wasn't making any sense. How do you make a stupid dream make sense?
"Sometimes," Mrs. Worther said slowly, "sometimes dreams show us things that we would never think about in the light of day. Things about ourselves, our hopes and fears. Even our... well, our dreams!" she laughed.
Mary couldn't help but laugh with her. She had no idea what Mrs. Worther was talking about, but just the fact that they were talking and laughing helped a bit.
"What happened today at the river? That's where you were running from, right?"
Mary nodded. "The water's all muddy, and Scott and them were kicking up the water and the dirt and it just... reminded me of my dream. I got too scared to swing on the rope and jump in with them."
Mrs. Worther was quiet for a moment. When she spoke again, she asked a weird question. "Do you dream in color or black and white?"
"Ummm. Black and white, I guess."
"I see," she said quietly. "Maybe that's for the best."
Mary didn't understand, but Mrs. Worther just hugged her tighter.
“Dreams can be powerful things. They tell us things, show us things, that we may not always understand, and that can be scary. But it can also be wonderful.”
Now Mary was really confused. “I don’t understand.”
"And maybe you never will. At least not until you’re older,” Mrs. Worther teased. “Think about it this way: you’ve had a dream that scared you, and it’s keeping you from having fun with your friends?”
Mary nodded.
“Is it the dream stopping you, or yourself?”
Mary looked up at Mrs. Worther, still not understanding.
“What’s the worst dream you’ve had up until this one came along?”
Mary had to think for a minute, because most of her dreams – good or bad – faded from memory by the end of the day. "I remember dreaming about a big German Shepherd that used to bark and growl at me when I’d walk by his house. He was chasing me. I like dogs, but that dream made me want to keep away from him."
“Uh huh. After that dream, did you stop walking by his house?”
“No. He was behind a fence anyway, and that would have meant going way out of my way just to get to school.”
“So even though he was a real dog with a real bark, and you were a little scared of him, you didn’t let that keep you from doing what you had to do?”
Mary shook her head.
"From what you wanted to do?"
"I guess not."
“So are you going to let some strange dream keep you from having fun with your friends?”
Mary sat up and away from Mrs. Worther. “That’s not the same thing! This dream... I mean... aw, heck. I guess it is the same thing.”
“Uh huh. Dreams sometimes do warn us, show us our fears. Like with that dog. But sometimes they’re just dreams. You didn't let that dog stop you, so why should you let something that you don't even understand keep you from having your fun?”
Mary thought about that for a minute. “I’m still not sure I get it. I definitely hope I don’t have that dream again, but I guess you're right. I shouldn’t let a silly dream keep me from a swim in the river, should I?” Mary stood and shook her long blonde hair out of its messy ponytail to fix it.
Mrs. Worther looked very serious for a minute, then reached out and grasped Mary's hand. “No, sweetie. I think in this particular case, you most certainly shouldn’t let it keep you from enjoying your summer."
“Thanks, Mrs. Worther. See ya later!”
And Mary ran back to the river without a backward glance. She’d see Mrs. Worther soon enough, maybe even over meatloaf.
*****
Genevieve Worther stood up slowly, though there was no longer any pain in her knees, or any of her joints for that matter. That was gonna take some getting used to, not that she was complaining.
She hadn’t been making meatloaf for dinner when she’d had a heart attack and died in her own warm kitchen this afternoon, but pork roast. Luckily, she hadn’t even lit the oven, so her house was in no danger of burning down.
Burning.
She shivered, and nearly laughed. Weren’t ghosts supposed to make the living shiver? But Mary and her dream... There was nothing Genevieve could do about that little girl’s future, but she hoped that she’d been of some help today. She hoped that Mary’s present -- every day she had left on God’s green earth -- was filled with ropes over rivers and boys that smiled at her like Scott Williams. Then Genevieve wouldn’t feel too badly about missing out on any more pork roast dinners.
END
Mary was a lucky girl. She'd been so sure she would hate San Angelo, having grown used to the convenience of a large city. She'd nearly cried when Dad broke the news about the move. They had unpacked the last box just as she was about to start the sixth grade, though, and it turned out she wasn't the only one a little nervous and a little out of place on the first day of school.
She made good friends and grew to love the thick accents and muggy weather. Mom and Dad stopped fussing over her, and after a year of Texas History and Home Economics, summer finally arrived. Swimming and fishing and running wild with her friends made up her days, and today was no different. But lately, her nights were making it difficult to enjoy her days.
"Come on, Mary! What're you, a baby or something? Jump!"
"The water's fine, for cryin' out loud."
"Does widdle Maweekins need a push?"
Scott, Carrie, and Bryan laughed and cajoled until they realized that she really wasn't going to jump in, like she'd already done dozens of times since the start of summer.
The rope was scratchy against the palms of Mary's hands; heavy and secure, just like always. There was no real danger here by the river's edge. But this time was different. The water was cloudy -- more so than usual, thanks to the thunderstorm that rolled through last night – and she couldn't stop watching the way it bubbled and swirled as her friends splashed and swam, stirring up the silt with gangly arms and legs. With the slight roar of the river where it ran faster a ways downstream... it was too much... too much like...
She shivered, trying to clear her mind of nonsense, but her friends noticed anyway.
"Hey, Mary. You okay?"
It was concern she heard in Scott's voice as she let go of the rope and backed away, and that made her feel stupid. Childish and stupid because she had best friends to go swimming with but all she could do was--
"I've got to go... something I forgot." She plastered a big, fake smile on her face. "See you later!"
She turned and walked away. Carrie called out to her, "Do you want me to come with you?"
But Mary kept moving, walking faster and faster until she was certain they couldn't see her anymore. Then she ran.
She'd left her shoes back at the river, but that didn't matter. The leaves and soft grass under her feet were comforting, anyway. Even the occasional prick from a broken branch reminded her that this was no dream, she was wide awake and everything was fine.
"Whoa! Where you going in such a hurry, sweetie?"
Mary struggled away from a sudden firm grasp, but stilled when she recognized the throaty laugh.
"Oh! Mrs. Worther! I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going and–"
"Calm down, honey, I'm fine! Never been better, as a matter of fact. You, on the other hand, look like you've seen a ghost."
Mrs. Worther lived a quarter-mile down the road, made the best meatloaf ever, and always had a smile on her face, even though she was old and had trouble walking. When they'd first moved in, she'd come over and helped Mom hang up the curtains and figure out where the pictures should hang on the walls. Mary had never been happier to see someone in her whole life, because she hated hanging curtains, and their house had loads of them.
"Shouldn't you be down at the river with those charming friends of yours?" Mrs. Worther asked, smiling.
Mary couldn't help it; she shivered again.
"What's wrong? Here, sit down and talk a while." She urged Mary to sit down on a large flat rock. Mary felt guilty, because it was close to the ground and she knew it had to be hard for Mrs. Worther to bend her knees, but she did as she was asked. Mrs. Worther asked, "Did that Scott Williams get fresh with you? Not that I'd be complaining if a cute boy like that smiled at me the way he does at you."
"No! He didn't get fresh with me!" Mary insisted a little too quickly. She turned her face downward, letting the hairs that had fallen out of her ponytail hide her embarrassment. Scott hadn't been fresh, but he had been smiling. Mary felt her face blush and warm at the thought, but that just reminded her of her dreams again.
"Mary," Mrs. Worther said softly, "I think you need to tell me what's wrong."
The problem was, Mary wasn't entirely sure. It was just a dream, right? So what if she'd had it a few times? So what if she saw things while she was awake that reminded her of her nightmare?
But then a warm arm was around her shoulders, pulling her close, and it was so easy just to melt into the embrace of the first person in Texas who had made her feel like maybe it wouldn't be so bad here.
"I've... there's this dream I keep having. I don't understand it, but it's making me jump at shadows." She managed to say it without whispering or letting her voice crack. She was nearly thirteen, after all.
"Tell me about the dream, honey." Mrs. Worther's voice was soothing, and she smelled like... meatloaf? Of all things!
Mary calmed a little more. "Did you make meatloaf?"
Mrs. Worther laughed. "No, but I had to change my plans rather suddenly. Now tell me, Mary. Tell me about your dream."
"It's... it's hard to say." Mary hesitated, but she did want to tell someone so she wouldn't feel like she was going crazy. "I mean. It's like I'm underwater, the sounds in my ears. But it's hot too. The river here gets warm, but in my dream it's like it's boiling or something. And everything looks strange too. It's not the river, maybe a swimming pool? Oh, I don't know! I don't know what it means, or why it scares me! It just feels wrong, and I really don't want to have that dream anymore."
Mary heard the catch in her voice, and she wanted to cry in frustration because she knew she wasn't making any sense. How do you make a stupid dream make sense?
"Sometimes," Mrs. Worther said slowly, "sometimes dreams show us things that we would never think about in the light of day. Things about ourselves, our hopes and fears. Even our... well, our dreams!" she laughed.
Mary couldn't help but laugh with her. She had no idea what Mrs. Worther was talking about, but just the fact that they were talking and laughing helped a bit.
"What happened today at the river? That's where you were running from, right?"
Mary nodded. "The water's all muddy, and Scott and them were kicking up the water and the dirt and it just... reminded me of my dream. I got too scared to swing on the rope and jump in with them."
Mrs. Worther was quiet for a moment. When she spoke again, she asked a weird question. "Do you dream in color or black and white?"
"Ummm. Black and white, I guess."
"I see," she said quietly. "Maybe that's for the best."
Mary didn't understand, but Mrs. Worther just hugged her tighter.
“Dreams can be powerful things. They tell us things, show us things, that we may not always understand, and that can be scary. But it can also be wonderful.”
Now Mary was really confused. “I don’t understand.”
"And maybe you never will. At least not until you’re older,” Mrs. Worther teased. “Think about it this way: you’ve had a dream that scared you, and it’s keeping you from having fun with your friends?”
Mary nodded.
“Is it the dream stopping you, or yourself?”
Mary looked up at Mrs. Worther, still not understanding.
“What’s the worst dream you’ve had up until this one came along?”
Mary had to think for a minute, because most of her dreams – good or bad – faded from memory by the end of the day. "I remember dreaming about a big German Shepherd that used to bark and growl at me when I’d walk by his house. He was chasing me. I like dogs, but that dream made me want to keep away from him."
“Uh huh. After that dream, did you stop walking by his house?”
“No. He was behind a fence anyway, and that would have meant going way out of my way just to get to school.”
“So even though he was a real dog with a real bark, and you were a little scared of him, you didn’t let that keep you from doing what you had to do?”
Mary shook her head.
"From what you wanted to do?"
"I guess not."
“So are you going to let some strange dream keep you from having fun with your friends?”
Mary sat up and away from Mrs. Worther. “That’s not the same thing! This dream... I mean... aw, heck. I guess it is the same thing.”
“Uh huh. Dreams sometimes do warn us, show us our fears. Like with that dog. But sometimes they’re just dreams. You didn't let that dog stop you, so why should you let something that you don't even understand keep you from having your fun?”
Mary thought about that for a minute. “I’m still not sure I get it. I definitely hope I don’t have that dream again, but I guess you're right. I shouldn’t let a silly dream keep me from a swim in the river, should I?” Mary stood and shook her long blonde hair out of its messy ponytail to fix it.
Mrs. Worther looked very serious for a minute, then reached out and grasped Mary's hand. “No, sweetie. I think in this particular case, you most certainly shouldn’t let it keep you from enjoying your summer."
“Thanks, Mrs. Worther. See ya later!”
And Mary ran back to the river without a backward glance. She’d see Mrs. Worther soon enough, maybe even over meatloaf.
*****
Genevieve Worther stood up slowly, though there was no longer any pain in her knees, or any of her joints for that matter. That was gonna take some getting used to, not that she was complaining.
She hadn’t been making meatloaf for dinner when she’d had a heart attack and died in her own warm kitchen this afternoon, but pork roast. Luckily, she hadn’t even lit the oven, so her house was in no danger of burning down.
Burning.
She shivered, and nearly laughed. Weren’t ghosts supposed to make the living shiver? But Mary and her dream... There was nothing Genevieve could do about that little girl’s future, but she hoped that she’d been of some help today. She hoped that Mary’s present -- every day she had left on God’s green earth -- was filled with ropes over rivers and boys that smiled at her like Scott Williams. Then Genevieve wouldn’t feel too badly about missing out on any more pork roast dinners.
END
no subject
Date: 2006-09-16 02:08 pm (UTC)Oh that was quite scary...very good though,wee!Mary surrounded by her foreshadowing.
Fantastic,thank you for sharing.
no subject
Date: 2006-09-16 11:38 pm (UTC)I'm so glad you liked it.
no subject
Date: 2006-09-16 02:37 pm (UTC)Brava!
no subject
Date: 2006-09-16 11:39 pm (UTC)I'm glad you enjoyed. :D
no subject
Date: 2006-09-16 04:46 pm (UTC)I love the getting used to no arthtritis in her knees.
Little Mary is just as cute as wee!winchesters.
And she was totally a girl who liked to swing from ropes into the river.
Awesome work!!
no subject
Date: 2006-09-16 11:40 pm (UTC)You know, I've never done that? I've always wanted to though...
Thanks! I'm glad you liked it! :D
no subject
Date: 2006-09-16 05:12 pm (UTC)♥
no subject
Date: 2006-09-16 11:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-17 06:03 pm (UTC)Nice creepy twist at the end too!
no subject
Date: 2006-09-17 09:36 pm (UTC)