I know that I was dreaming. What I saw was a dream, right… it has to be. Because how in the world would a girl be floating in the air? That's impossible. It only happens in dreams, movies or fantasy worlds where the impossible is normal.
I slowly opened my eyes.
The same cute looking girl's face was right in front of mine. Her nose was almost touching mine, and I could feel the faint, cool brush of her breath on my skin.
I must still be dreaming.
I closed my eyes again to calm myself, then opened them.
She was still there.
And this time, her smile was wider than before, showing off teeth that looked too white, too perfect. It wasn't a normal smile. It was the kind of smile that made the hair on my arms stand up.
I held my breath, trying to calm myself down, praying, hoping, that this was all in my head.
She is not real. She is not real.
I repeated it over and over in my mind, then opened my eyes.
"You are awake, my lady," a tiny, high pitched, almost cartoonish voice said.
Immediately, I rolled out of the bed and landed hard on the ground.
Oh, gravity… a heartless bitch.
That was fucking painful. My shoulder hit the floorboards first, and a sharp thud echoed through the silent room. The impact sent a jolt of heat through my arm.
When I turned, she was floating above the bed. She wasn't sitting. She wasn't standing. She was just hovering there like gravity didn't apply to her clothes or her hair.
I didn't even look around, but I knew I was in my room, one of my grandma's rooms I always slept in whenever I visited. The familiar scent of old wood and flowers was there, but it didn't feel safe anymore.
"I thought you were dead. Then I felt your heartbeat, so I carried you to your room, my lady…" she said.
I paused and stared at her.
She looked young, small, like a seven year old. She wore a simple white dress that ruffled slightly as she moved through the air.
How did she…?
No.
No, no, no.
The real question is... how is she floating?
I was still on the floor. My soul felt like it was leaving my body. My palms were sweaty, sliding against the cold floor as I tried to push myself back.
She came closer, still smiling. She drifted through the air toward me, her feet dangling inches above the rug.
"H-help me… someone, please help me!" I shouted, hoping someone would come save me.
But no.
Grandma lived alone.
There was no one in this big, goddamn house. The walls were thick, and the nearest neighbor was a mile down the road.
If I needed saving, it had to be me.
I am my only savior.
"You… floating girl, stay away from me. Don't come any closer!" I shouted.
To my surprise, she stopped where she was. She tilted her head, looking at me like I was a strange animal in a cage.
Good. Stay there.
I don't care who you are, Grim Reaper or Azreal, I am not ready to die. I'm still young. I just turned 21 a month ago. I haven't lived my life yet.
The girl of my dreams got married to the man of her dreams, today, that doesn't mean I have to die for confessing my love..
Then Grandma died.
At least Grandma lived for a century. She fell in love. She had stories.
And me?
I'm still a graduate virgin…
I need to lose my virginity before I die. I can't go out like this, chased by some floating kid in my grandma's house.
I quickly stood up and rushed toward the door, but slammed my head against it in my haste.
"Ouch…" I groaned, holding my head. The wood felt hard and real. This wasn't a dream. Dreams don't give you a pulsing headache.
"My lady, are you okay?"
"Don't come close to me!" I said, pointing at her. My finger was shaking.
Then I ran.
I scrambled out the door, my feet slapping against the hallway floor. I didn't grab my bag. I didn't grab a jacket. I just bolted out the front door, the cool night air hitting my face. I scrambled into my car, fumbling with the keys until the engine roared to life. I shifted into gear and drove off without looking back, my heart drumming against my ribs.
After a while, I calmed myself down, convincing myself it was all an illusion.
It never happened.
The floating girl was not real. It was grief. It was lack of sleep.
I parked in front of my noodle shop. It was 2 a.m., still dark. The streetlights flickered, casting long, shaky shadows across the pavement.
I unlocked the door and stepped inside. The bell above the door gave a soft chime.
Cooking always calms me down. It pulls me out of my thoughts. Makes me forget everything.
Making noodles is an art. And my safe place.
I walked into the kitchen and turned on the stove. The blue flame hissed to life. I grabbed a pot, filled it with water, and started prepping. I focused on the movement of my hands. Chop. Stir. Boil.
I made a quick bowl of soup noodles and sat down to eat at a small table in the corner. I lived for this smell, the salty broth and the fresh green onions. I slurped a bite, and immediately the savory flavor hit me.
My inner peace returned.
I could finally leave all the bad behind me. I took a deep breath, letting the steam warm my face.
Then... Right in front of me, a young chubby boy appeared, licking his lips, eyes fixed on my food. He didn't walk in. He was just there, sitting on the stool across from me.
I jumped back immediately, my chair screeching against the floor.
How the fuck did he appear…?
Then I heard a baby crying.
Loud, over and over. It was a piercing sound that echoed off the counters.
I looked around and saw a baby stroller near the entrance.
A baby was inside, crying. Its face was red, its tiny fists waving in the air.
Then the stroller started to levitate.
The baby was floating in the air, the stroller rising higher and higher until it reached the height of the menu board.
I turned back.
The chubby kid was eating my noodles. He was shoveling them into his mouth with his bare hands, looking at me with wide, hungry eyes.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
What is happening to me…?
"Ahhhhhh!" I screamed and ran outside, straight into the parking lot. The cold air didn't help this time.
"Calm down, Max. Calm down, Max. This is just a dream. You're in a dream…" I muttered, over and over. I bit my lip, hard, until I tasted blood. It didn't wake me up.
Then I looked up.
On the roof of my shop, sitting on top of the neon sign, was an old man. He wore a tattered hat and was swinging his legs back and forth like he was sitting on a park bench.
To my right, a girl was riding a bike, in the air. She was pedaling steadily, moving through the sky as if there was an invisible road beneath her tires.
To my left, a woman who looked homeless was walking toward me. Her clothes were rags, and she moved with a heavy, dragging limp.
Is this the end of the world…?
Am I dying? I'm actually dying…!
"Someone, please help me!" I screamed. My voice cracked.
Then the security guard from the neighboring building came running. His heavy boots stomped on the asphalt.
"What is it, young lady? Is everything alright?" he asked. He looked tired, rubbing his eyes as he approached.
I rushed to him and grabbed his arm. His sleeve felt rough and solid.
"These people! Look at them! They're trying to kill me, please, help me!" I begged. I pointed at the roof, then at the girl in the sky.
He looked around, confused. He squinted at the roof. He looked at the empty air where the girl was cycling.
"Who are you talking about, ma?"
"Can't you see them? These creepy people! That woman, that man up there, that girl riding a bike...."
"I can't see anyone, ma. Are you alright? Do you want me to call the hospital?"
I looked at him. He wasn't joking. He was serious.
He really couldn't see them. The woman was now only five feet away from us, her pale face staring straight at me, yet the guard didn't even blink.
Then it hit me.
"Holy hell… I'm the only one who can see them!"