a dream and a whistle

She fell asleep there, the rolls of silk keeping her warm against the wispy airs determined searching fingers, watching the stars as they slowly appeared from behind the smog cloud. They looked to her like they to were waiting to dance. Waiting til no one was watching so they could make the dark backdrop of the night their stage and waltz past the moon.

She looked peaceful, albeit uncomfortable, wrapped in the green silk gown. A mess of red hair sprawled haphazardly against her arms, gently holding her sleeping head. She breathed, and her breath played like smoke in the nights air.

It seemed to the girl that no matter how peacefully she fell into her sleep the nightmares would always find. The dreams where she couldn't run, or scream, or defend herself, or help anyone. The dreams where things were constantly held back from her. And so she ran and she screamed and fought, though the efforts bore little result and she awoke in a sweaty howling scream, a scream that could be heard many miles away, a scream that could not be held back by any nightmare.

Later that day as she absentmindedly weaved her piglets in-between overgrown patches of grass she realised she was being watched. A little bird in a tree was sitting on a branch, his head cocked with curiosity and caution.

She glanced down at her peanut butter sandwich and back to the little bird. It was all she had to eat that day, but it was also all she had to offer.