BLUE
By: Shane G Stanley

Prologue

It wasn’t until now that I understood the meaning of the cerulean sky. When I was a child, my mother used to take me to the park when “The sky was ready”, as she would say. I remember drops of rain tapping against the brim of my hat as I would beg her to go into the storm just once. I’m in the storm now, mom. I wish you could be here to show me the way back. I’m sorry I didn’t remember sooner.
This place carries with it a vague familiarity. It’s strange to recognize a place that isn’t real, but I’d swear I’ve been here before. What am I supposed to remember? As I walked down the narrow corridor I couldn’t help but notice the elegantly adorned walls. It’s as if the pictures were whispering something to me, trying to make me recall another time.
I could feel the cold air whistling around my feet first, working it’s way to my waist and finally to my head. It’s happening again. The world itself began to peel away from me, thrusting my body into darkness once more. Please let me wake up. When the darkness is swallowed by light, please let it be home that I see.