A Short Story : The Story Of The Dream

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The dream started like it always did; A black feather lying on the snow covered ground. I sighed and started walking. I didn't need to glance down to know if I was taking the right path anymore. I'd walked this path so many times I could follow the trail of feathers with my eyes closed. I reached the outcropping of rocks to where the crow sat on top of boulder, watching me. As soon as I got close enough, it jerked its head to the side as if to say "that way" and launched into the air, heading west. I sprinted after it, racing to where I knew the crow would go. I stopped at the large oak tree seconds before the crow landed in its branches to grab a leaf. I dash ahead of it, catching its flight out of the corner of my eye. I push myself to run harder. I needed to beat the crow. It swooped down to pick up a glittering red rock off of the ground next to me, and I sprint even faster. I had to beat it. I had to see her face. I had to ask her why she was doing this to me. I ran along side the riverbank as it dived to catch some of the water in its beak. I didn't know if these things it was collecting had meaning, but I couldn't have cared less. I just wanted to get to her before the dream ended again. I ran through the snow covered meadow by the river and turned to head south, knowing that's where the crow was going. The crow slowed to gather some of the seeds the flowers stored, and used it to get a bit of a lead. I jumped over a log and dodged the swiping claw of the bobcat

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