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A Short Story : A Story?

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Seraiah ran the brush slowly through her hair. Her eyes were dry and tired after spending most of the night awake.
"You had the dream again," Sterling said, coming up behind her.
Seraiah couldn't help jumping at little at the sound of her sister's voice.
It wasn't a question.
She always knew. Somehow, Sterling always knew.
Seraiah pressed her lips together but didn't say anything. Instead, she continued brushing the knots from her hair.
Sterling sighed and grabbed the brush from her hand.
"Sit," she commanded her older sister, indicating the bed.
Seraiah did as she was ordered and perched on the edge of the bed, allowing her sister to finish brushing out her hair, and then plait it into a neat braid.
She shut her eyes while Sterling worked, trying not to think about the dream, but it invaded her thoughts like a poison. It was the same dream that had haunted her for years. The only one she ever dreamed anymore.
At one time, she had dreamed frequently, and the dreams always came true. It was usually little things, like dreaming Mama made a cake, and then the next day finding her making the exact cake down to the last swirl of sweet cream frosting.
Papa always liked to tell the story about the time she had dreamed Sterling was going to be her new sister. Not a week later, Jensira had appeared with a baby named Sterling at her father's market stall.
That had been one of her first and most significant dreams. She had been only four years old at the time.
For the last few

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