The Dreamy Wedding

Chapter 1

Dorothy, the witch

Only she seemed to remember what had happened at her wedding as she begged the prince, her once-husband, to remember. No, this is not a Cinderella story.

This tale is about a girl named Eloise and a childhood friend she had who loved her dearly—a little too dearly. His name was Atlas. 

  He would show up in her dreams in the middle of the night, every night, ever since she was a young girl. The dreams were lovely; they sang and danced until their feet swelled up. He whispered whatever she wanted to hear in her ears and bought her whatever she put her eyes on. But she never truly liked him like that. He was a childhood friend and someone who, by the way, wasn’t real.

  And yet, she couldn’t remember a dream without him.

But one day, a few days after she’d turned 17, the prince of Veronia, Daniel,  had asked her to wed him. Eloise had always dreamed of marrying a handsome prince and had accepted his request immediately.

  Don’t get her wrong, it wasn’t like she married him just for that. She knew him. They’d been good friends for 2 years now.

  That night, she told Atlas about it and about how she was so excited to spend the rest of her life with the prince. But things took an unexpected turn as he got mad at her and threatened to kill her fiancé if she didn’t break things off. She got scared and woke up in a cold sweat. The only way for her to exit a dream was if she got scared or if he let her out. There was no other way.

  The six days following that night, she dreamed of running away from him in a forest as he chased her down, each time coming a little closer to getting her. And she only woke up after he’d almost gotten her.

So, about a week after the proposal, she made a trip to the only person in town who could help her, Dorothy. Adults called her crazy, children called her a witch, but I called her a genius. A wicked one if I had to be honest. But nevertheless a genius.

Eloise held her long pink skirts as she jumped on rocks, trying to avoid the mud between them, afraid she might dirty herself. Dorothy didn’t live where everyone else did. She lived out of town, in the middle of the woods so the trip there wasn’t the most pleasant since it had rained the day before. 

  Finally having arrived at the shed, she dropped her dress and knocked on her door.

The door opened with a few creaks, but no hands were pushing it open. A shiver trailed over her spine as she called out for her. 

  “Dorothy?” she exclaimed in a timid voice.

  A creak was heard from afar.

She gulped and stepped closer to where she’d heard the noise. She tried calling out for her again, but there was no reply. Feeling disappointed that she’d made all the way there just for the woman not to be home, she sighed and turned for the door.

  But before she could even make a step towards it, it slammed close. In panic, she rushed towards it and tried shoving it open. She was surprised at how strong the door was because of its outer appearance. It had to be at least 7 decades old.

  But an explanation rose in her head as she saw a purple-tinted piece of magic dancing around the door handle.

  She dropped her hand and stepped away from it.

  “Eloise,” a voice trailed behind her.

She turned around at the sound and was met with a very old woman sitting at a table that wasn’t there a minute ago. She didn’t remember Dorothy this old the last time she saw her.

“Dorothy?” she whispered, not believing it was her. She looked like her, but was at least 50 years older. She had the same purple eyes.

  “Sit down, my dear.”

  She stepped towards her with small steps before sitting down.

  “What brings you here?” she asked, mixing her tea with her own wrinkled, hairy, nail-outgrown finger. She almost threw up at the sight.

  “I had a question about dreams,” she said after moving her gaze somewhere else.

  “Dreams or nightmares?” she asked.

  “Both. I always have the same dream. Not exactly the same, but it contains the same person and similar other contents.”

  “The same person, mhm. A boy?” she said, bringing the tea to her lips before making an awful sipping sound.

  “Yes? How—How did you know that?”

  “These dreams are uncommon but not rare for a young girl like you.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “No?”

  “No. And by the way. The boy you’re seeing—” she put her tea down. “Is not a boy.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The thing you’re seeing is a dream spirit who once lived and craves love. It wants you for itself. You have to get rid of it.”

  “But— That’s not possible. I’ve seen him in my dreams ever since I was just a kid.”

  “It has chained itself to you since childhood, then. That’s even worse,” she said, standing up and walking towards her shelf before grabbing a small bottle off of it.

  Eloise sat wide-eyed, not believing what she’d just heard. A spirit? She didn’t see him as a wicked spirit. He was so nice to her—well, until recently.

  The old woman stood in front of her as Eloise drowned herself in every memory she’d shared with him.

  “You need to drop a few drops of this on him. Then, it’ll go away.”

  Eloise shook her head and stood up.

  “I’m sorry, Dorothy, but he’s not whatever you’re saying he is. He’s— He’s my friend.”

  “It's got you right where it wants you, Eloise. Kill it,” she said, shoving the bottle in her hands.