Morphei's 'P': A Narrative Fiction

She took of her glasses and stared at me. “I’ll tell you why,” she said.

He stared through my eyes and seemed to speak directly into my brain, 'Because of who my father is.'

I completed my floor routine with ease! It showcased my best event and I nailed it; however, bars really created the pressure. My coach for the event was Coach Alex, and the determination I felt to make him proud overwhelmed me. I loved all my coaches, but he stood out as someone very special. I knew I would miss his constant nagging at me. I approached the springboard, enveloped with chalk and trembling from head to toe. I hit the springboard with such power it jumped backwards. My hands felt like fire as I spun around the bars. My hands released the low bar and after an eternity, I felt the bar again, but by that time I grasped onto the high bar. Before I knew it, I had finished my last bar routine with a successful

The pain was gone. I couldn’t feel the warm goo running down my face. I was...glad...that the pain was gone. But now there was a new pain. My mind felt like it was being pulled from somewhere in different directions. “Are you alright?” Suddenly there’s a voice. The pain dulled when she spoke. Her voice was like an angel, (Yes, I know that sounds cliche) but it’s true. Her voice was as soft as a cloud’s depiction, as sweet as a butterscotch candy. She sounded like she was as graceful as a dragon in a story. No matter what she did it was a beautiful flow of movement transformed into an art. Like something you’d never want to look away from. “Don’t be shy, You’re safe now. Come, follow my voice and you shall see the grace of the clouds and the eternal light from the sun and stars above. You can see all of the beauty in the world as if you were there. Come, follow my voice, and the wonders of the world are yours to experience. “Wi-Will I see you?” I ask her. There was silence. A long pause. “If that is your wish.”, she finally said. I moved. I actually felt like I was moving, like I was walking. I started to run. The pain from my mind was dissipating. I was almost there, I could see a silhouette in the whiteness. I felt clear, at peace. It felt nice. I found the source of the voice. She was incomprehensibly beautiful. She looked down at me, her eyes were full of kindness. She smiled lovingly at me, like she knew me. I paused. “A-Are you my

"I'm terribly sorry, but could you point me in the direction of the nearest exit?" a kind voice from behind me said. I jumped in spite of it, I didn't hear anybody following behind me.

“Um, sure. Are you looking for anything in particular?” It was obvious that it pained him to answer.

I shuffled and lowered my body parallel to the border, knowing that no patrols would stop by at this time of day. My eyes began to water and I let out a shaky gasp as my voice rasped, "Oh Starclan, what am I suppose to do?" Distress poured out of my voice, as I wrapped my tail around my paws.

“You knew, didn’t you? I’m part of you? Close, close, close! I’m the reason why it’s no go? Why things are what they are?”

"You knew, didn't you? I'm part of you? Close, close, close! I'm the reason why it's no go? Why things are what they are?"

The look in Stone’s eyes shifted from askance to dangerous. “Hoped I’d never have to understand what?”

“.... I can't quite say they just seems to me in, they ignite my imagination and it's something I can't explain.”

Mordecai sat at the dinner table quietly reading the newspaper. That was until the paper burst into flames in his hands. He sighed and rolled his eyes before calmly tossing the paper into the sink and turning on the faucet as if he’d done it a hundred times. He then turned to focus his attention on the producer of the flame. On his chair perched a dragon about the same size as a house cat. It had shimmering aqua scales and a tiny horn hooked up at the bottom of it’s snout. The dragon flared its wings, excited to finally be noticed. Mordecai couldn’t help but smile at the joyful little reptile.

“To what purpose? How could I face them?” His response was quiet and devoid of emotion, but the gentle tremble of guilt glided along the surface.

Next, we went to vault. You see, vault looks easy, but it is the opposite of what you think. To me it’s the hardest, most painfullest event of them all. Why, you might ask? Well I’ll tell you why. I ran up to the vault, punched my feet on the springboard, put my hands on it, and went crooked. Therefore I shot of the vault and into the judges table. I laid there for a second, afraid of what would happen when I got up. I got up very slowly. I was lucky that I went under the table not over it. It seemed as if the whole world stopped to look at me. My face was as red as a tomato. I was afraid to look at the judges, but I did. They didn’t look pleased. My coach came rushing over, and asked if the judges were OK. Inside my head, I was yelling, “Hey! Why are you asking if they're OK? You can probably guess what score they gave me. Yep, a big, fat,

“I should know what,” I had asked, a concerned look formed on my face. Giovanna darted her emerald green eyes back and forth.