Purple?
1011 Words
My whole body jolts upright, the sensation of falling pulling me from sleep as I gasp for air. My chest heaves, heart pounding against my ribcage as if trying to escape. For a moment, I can’t tell where I am. Sweat clings to my skin, soaking through the sheets, but as I blink through the haze of panic, relief slowly seeps in.
I’m at home. Safe. In my own bed.
I press my hands against my mattress, grounding myself in the familiar. The smooth cotton under my fingers feels like a lifeline. Yet the safety of my room can’t chase away the chill lingering from the dream—no, the nightmare. It’s one of many, the same torment playing on a loop inside my head for weeks. They’ve been becoming more frequent, more vivid, more… real.
Why? I shake my head, trying to make sense of it. Why do I keep having these dreams?
They always start the same: I watch from above, a distant observer to the bizarre scene unfolding beneath me. I see a wolf, sometimes a man, but they’re never just one thing. Both forms seem to blur together. They always stand guard over a woman, their stance protective, almost desperate. But why? From what? From whom?
I can never remember their faces when I wake, no matter how hard I try. The details slip away like sand through my fingers. Yet this time, something was different. The dream wasn’t just a dream—I was in it, not as a passive observer but there, part of the scene. The wolf saw me. And I saw the woman.
A shiver snakes down my spine as I recall the woman’s face. Or should I say…
I stop myself, clenching my eyes shut. No. I press my palms to my temples, trying to shove the thought away. No, stop it, Lenora. It was just a dream. A figment of your subconscious. Nothing more.
But I can’t shake the feeling that this was something else. Something bigger.
For now, I push it aside. It’s morning, and there’s a whole day ahead of me. Just breathe. Move on. I throw off the sweat-drenched covers and swing my legs out of bed. The floor is cool against my feet, a welcome contrast to the heat radiating from my skin. I trudge to the bathroom, each step feeling mechanical, as if my body is on autopilot.
The shower comes as a small mercy. Warm water cascades over me, washing away the remnants of the nightmare, but there’s something off, something nagging at the back of my mind. I try to pinpoint it, but it remains elusive, a shadow at the edge of my consciousness. I can’t quite place it, but I feel… different.
As I step out of the shower, I grab a towel and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My breath hitches in my throat.
What the hell…?
I stare, wide-eyed, at the reflection. My hair—it’s… wrong.
Yesterday, my white hair barely brushed my shoulders, short and practical. Now it cascades past my hips, almost to my butt, thick and impossibly long. I blink, but it doesn’t change. How could it have grown so fast? Am I still dreaming? A surreal sense of unreality clouds my thoughts as I wrap my hair in a towel, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing.
Shaken, I open my closet, pulling out my usual black cargo pants and a purple cami crop top. As I slip into the clothes, something else feels off. Everything feels… tighter. The fabric clings to my body in a way it never has before.
Why do I feel so restricted?
I’ve always been petite, my clothes hanging loose on my small frame. But now, as I look down at myself, I realize I’m filling them out in ways I’ve never imagined. I turn back to the mirror, and what I see sends my head spinning.
The person staring back at me is not the girl I was yesterday. She’s… different. Taller, at least 20 centimeters taller. And not just taller—my figure has changed too. My hips curve with a graceful fullness, my waist tapers into a perfect hourglass, and my arms and legs are toned, as if sculpted from marble. Even my chest has changed. Is that me?
I gape at my reflection, running my hands over my body, trying to reconcile what I’m seeing with what I know. This can’t be real.
My eyes dart to the birthmark just below my left collarbone. It’s always been a small red crescent moon, but now… now it’s purple. A deep, rich lavender that contrasts sharply with my tanned skin. The change in color only makes it more striking, more pronounced.
And my face… it’s like looking at a version of myself from some other world. My lips are fuller, my features softer, more ethereal. But the most startling change is in my eyes. They were green. They were always green. But now…
I step closer to the mirror, leaning in. My eyes are purple. The same deep lavender as the birthmark. They glow, almost, as if lit from within.
I stagger back, my heart pounding, thoughts spiraling out of control. What the hell is happening to me?
The person in the mirror looks both familiar and entirely alien. I rake my fingers through my hair, the soft waves cascading over my shoulders as the towel falls away. The shock of it all sinks in deeper as I stare at the white strands mixed with purple, as if someone had painted delicate lavender strokes through the ends.
The transformation is undeniable. My body. My hair. My eyes. I don’t recognize myself, yet I do. How can this be real?
My mind is racing, the questions piling up faster than I can answer them. I need answers. I need… Nana. She’ll know what to do, she always does.
Suddenly, three sharp knocks break the silence, the sound echoing through the room like gunshots.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
- Writer
