Her nightmares
Ariel glanced around, her surroundings unfamiliar and unsettling. Tall trees loomed overhead, their leaves forming a dense canopy that blocked out most of the light. The eerie sounds around her only heightened the unease. It was so dark that she could barely make out what was beside her.
She tilted her head upward, her gaze meeting the shadowy outlines of the towering trees. She didn't know exactly where she was, but it was clear she was in the heart of a forest, seemingly in the middle of nowhere.
Summoning her courage, Ariel decided to move forward. After taking just two steps, she stumbled and fell. A sharp sting shot through her thigh, and a warm, metallic liquid began to seep out. She gasped, placing her hand on the source of the pain, only to cry out as the agony intensified.
Suddenly, her eyes began to glow an intense blue, casting a radiant light that pierced through the darkness. The forest seemed to shift around her, shadows writhing like living things. Then, a voice—soft yet chilling—whispered her name.
Everything went black.
Ariel woke with a start, her heart racing as fragments of the dream lingered in her mind—the towering trees, the sharp sting, and the glow of her eyes. She sat up in bed, clutching her chest, trying to shake off the vividness of it all.
"It was just a dream," she muttered, running her hands through her messy hair. But when she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, she froze.
A faint scar, thin and pale, stretched across her thigh—exactly where the wound had been in her dream. She blinked, touching it hesitantly. A chill ran through her.
The shrill buzz of her alarm broke the moment. Ariel groaned, pushing the unsettling thought aside. She had school to face, and she wasn't about to let a strange dream derail her day.
At school, the hum of students filled the hallways—laughter, gossip, and the occasional shuffle of feet. Ariel wove through the crowd, her thoughts still lingering on the dream, when she caught sight of Eleanor.
Eleanor exuded confidence. With her perfectly styled auburn hair, polished demeanor, and sharp British accent, she seemed untouchable. Her family's wealth and influence were the stuff of whispers among the students, and her friends followed her like satellites. Yet, there was something about her—a shadow that flickered behind her poised exterior—that always left Ariel uneasy.
Eleanor approached Ariel near her locker, her signature smug smile in place. "Darling, you've been acting a bit… off lately," she said, leaning against the lockers as though she owned the space. "Everything alright?"
Ariel bristled. "I'm fine, Eleanor. Thanks for asking."
Eleanor's smile didn't falter, but her eyes sharpened. "You sure? You've got that 'haunted protagonist' vibe about you. And trust me, it doesn't suit you."
"What's your problem, Eleanor?" Ariel snapped, slamming her locker shut. "Why do you always have to stick your nose where it doesn't belong?"
Eleanor's smile vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating expression. "Oh, don't get defensive. I'm just being friendly." She tilted her head slightly, her gaze dropping to Ariel's leg. "Although, I can't help but notice you've been walking a little funny. Something happened?"
Ariel stiffened, instinctively pulling her bag closer to her side to shield the scar. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Eleanor leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "You know, secrets have a way of catching up with people. Especially around here."
Ariel stared at her, her heart pounding. Was Eleanor just messing with her, or did she know something? "I don't have any secrets," she said firmly, though her voice betrayed her uncertainty.
Eleanor smirked, pulling back. "If you say so, darling." She turned and walked away, her polished shoes clicking against the tiled floor.
The encounter left Ariel rattled. She couldn't tell if Eleanor was trying to intimidate her or if she genuinely knew something about the scar—or the dream.
Later, during history class, Ariel struggled to focus. The teacher's voice became a distant hum as her thoughts spiraled. What did Eleanor mean? Did she know something about the dream?
"Ariel," the teacher snapped, jolting her out of her thoughts. "Care to share your thoughts on the question?"
Ariel blinked, her face heating up. "Um… sorry, I didn't catch that," she muttered. The class chuckled, and she slouched in her seat, mortified.
After class, Mia caught up with her in the hallway. "Okay, spill," she said, linking her arm through Ariel's. "What's going on? You were miles away back there."
"It's nothing," Ariel said quickly, though the worry in Mia's eyes made her hesitate. "I just didn't sleep well. Weird dreams, that's all."Here's the revised scene with a more detailed description of Eleanor's room to enhance the atmosphere:
Ariel woke with a start, her heart racing as fragments of the dream lingered in her mind—the towering trees, the sharp sting, and the glow of her eyes. She sat up in bed, clutching her chest, trying to shake off the vividness of it all.
"It was just a dream," she muttered, running her hands through her messy hair. But when she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, she froze.
A faint scar, thin and pale, stretched across her thigh—exactly where the wound had been in her dream. She blinked, touching it hesitantly. A chill ran through her.
The shrill buzz of her alarm broke the moment. Ariel groaned, pushing the unsettling thought aside. She had school to face, and she wasn't about to let a strange dream derail her day.
At school, the hum of students filled the hallways—laughter, gossip, and the occasional shuffle of feet. Ariel wove through the crowd, her thoughts still lingering on the dream when she caught sight of Eleanor.
Eleanor exuded confidence. With her perfectly styled auburn hair, polished demeanor, and sharp British accent, she seemed untouchable. Her family's wealth and influence were the stuff of whispers among the students, and her friends followed her like satellites. Yet, there was something about her—a shadow that flickered behind her poised exterior—that always left Ariel uneasy.
As Eleanor approached Ariel near her locker, her signature smug smile was in place. "Darling, you've been acting a bit… off lately," she said, leaning against the lockers as though she owned the space. "Everything all right?"
Ariel bristled. "I'm fine, Eleanor. Thanks for asking."
Eleanor's smile didn't falter, but her eyes sharpened. "You sure? You've got that 'haunted protagonist' vibe about you. And trust me, it doesn't suit you."
"What's your problem, Eleanor?" Ariel snapped, slamming her locker shut. "Why do you always have to stick your nose where it doesn't belong?"
Eleanor's smile vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating expression. "Oh, don't get defensive. I'm just being friendly." She tilted her head slightly, her gaze dropping to Ariel's leg. "Although, I can't help but notice you've been walking a little funny. Something happened?"
Ariel stiffened, instinctively pulling her bag closer to her side to shield the scar. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Eleanor leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "You know, secrets have a way of catching up with people. Especially around here."
Ariel stared at her, her heart pounding. Was Eleanor just messing with her, or did she know something? "I don't have any secrets," she said firmly, though her voice betrayed her uncertainty.
Eleanor smirked, pulling back slightly. "If you say so, darling." She turned and walked away, her polished shoes clicking against the tiled floor, leaving Ariel unsettled.
At lunch, Ariel sat poking at her food while Mia rambled on about her latest crush. That's when Allan walked in.
Allan commanded attention without trying. His tall frame, confident stride, and subtle air of mystery drew eyes wherever he went. It wasn't just his looks—it was the way he carried himself, as if he belonged to another world entirely. Allan's family was old money, his lineage steeped in both power and tradition. Though he rarely spoke of his wealth, it was evident in the tailored cut of his jacket and the effortless grace with which he moved.
His Scottish accent, soft but unmistakable, added to his allure. Allan's mother was from the Highlands, and he carried her voice like a quiet echo of home. His friends—Olive, Ken, and Owen—surrounded him, laughing at some joke, but Allan's gaze drifted across the cafeteria and landed on Ariel.
Their eyes met briefly, and a strange sensation washed over her. It wasn't the flutter of a crush or the awkwardness of being caught staring. It was something deeper—something that made her scar ache faintly.
Allan hesitated, his gaze lingering on her for a moment too long before he turned back to his friends.
"Did you see that?" Mia asked, nudging Ariel. "Allan just looked at you like you killed his cat or something."
Ariel shook her head. "It's nothing," she said, though her heart pounded.
But it wasn't nothing. The encounter left her breathless.
That night, as Ariel lay in bed, the memory of Allan's gaze wouldn't leave her. In the darkness of her room, the scar on her leg began to glow faintly blue, pulsing like a heartbeat.
Meanwhile, across town, Eleanor paced her room, her mind swirling with thoughts of Ariel.
Eleanor's room was a reflection of her sophisticated yet dark personality. The walls were painted a deep indigo, adorned with intricate gold-framed portraits of her ancestors, their expressions watchful and enigmatic. Velvet curtains framed the tall windows, filtering the moonlight into soft shadows that danced across the room.
An ornate mirror hung above a polished mahogany vanity, where elegant bottles of perfume and carefully arranged trinkets sparkled under the glow of vintage candle holders. The air was rich with the scent of jasmine and something sweeter, almost intoxicating.
Eleanor had a collection of books lining one wall—volumes of poetry, classic literature, and tomes on the occult. A large, plush rug covered the floor, inviting yet unsettling, as if hiding secrets of its own.
As she paced, Eleanor's gaze fell on a black raven perched on her window sill, its feathers gleaming in the low light. She stroked its head gently, seeking comfort in the creature's presence. "What is it about her?" she murmured, her thoughts swirling.
In the quiet of her room, she replayed the moment from earlier—Ariel's heartbeat, a rapid, alluring rhythm that had called to her during their confrontation. It was an intoxicating sound, one that stirred something deep within her, and she couldn't shake the feeling that Ariel was hiding more than just her secrets.
"What is it about you?" Eleanor whispered to herself, her curiosity piqued. That heartbeat echoed in her mind, a melody that drew her closer, compelling her to uncover the truth behind Ariel's hidden depths.