(A/N:  from the real author, The Masked Cokie.  I just want to say that there is one line in here I feel really bad about, but that's how it happened in my dream, and real life, if I was really drugged.  It does not reflect my opinion or anyone else's that I know.  Thanks.)

 

If I Should Die Before I wake

 

A story by Thelma Mary Caroline

 

 

 

I sat waiting inside Gate Silvergate Community Church for my appointment.

 

I hated being inside churches.  It felt so weird, as though someone who stop at yell at me, "Athiests can't be in church."

 

A boy, who was maybe eight, walked by.  I couldn't help staring at him, even turning as he walked by.  He had on a long sleeved yellow shirt with overley wide sleeves.  There were a dozen roses sewn on.  It also had a large purple hoot.

 

"Okay, that was weird," I muttered to no one in particular.

 

Another boy, a little older but dressed the same, walked by.

 

And then, a few minutes later, another.

 

I glanced the at my watch, then got up to see where they're going.  Maybe there was a play going on that I didn't know about, or, better yet, a musical.

 

They gone into a little room marked "Family Room."  It must be where people with small children sit on Sundays so they can watch the sermon without being disruptive.

 

So I followed them through the door, not really thinking anyone would mind.

 

But I quickly changed my mind.  There was  a huge stage, and several people, each dressed stranger than the last were talking in some language I didn't understand.  One had a huge knife, and suddenly cut off one of the rose boys' ear.

 

Holy son of a salvating orc forking kangaroo.

 

I quickly turned to leave.

 

Outside the room, there was a little girl.  At first I thought she was a ghost.  I thought that I could see right through it.  But quickly she became solid.

 

I hate to admit this, but I screamed.  I screamed and turned to get away, but instead ran into a woman who appeared to be no older than I.

 

"Can I help you?" she asked.  She was dressed normally enough, in a pretty dress you'd expect to see in a church.  She had on a name tag that read:

 

Hi!  My name is

 

Editha Winter

 

"No, Editha, I'm good, actually.  I just, uh, thought she was a ghost.  This little girl here."

 

"Her name is MyKynnzyye.  And please wait here while I get proper security."

 

"I didn't see anything, I promise."

 

"And yet, you have seen too much."

 

"No, I promise," I said again, feeling a bit panicked.  "I really didn't see anything.  And even if I did, I sure wouldn't tell anyone.  I'm even bad at remembering what the people I see everyday look like."

 

I babbled on for a long fifteen minutes while Editha Winter blocked the exit.  Little Mykynnzyye disappeared when I wasn't looking.

 

Suddenly a man came out, holding a clipboard.  "You're lucky," he told me.  He too, had a name tag.  George Reginald.

 

"That's what they tell me," I said, with the littlest and calmest voice I could muster.

 

"The concil has voted to let her go," he told Editha.  "Winnefred de Malyns voted a five."

 

"What, the actress?" I asked.

 

The woman scanned the list.  "And that bitch, Oceansica."

 

My classmate from Underwater Basket Weaving 101 was part of this?

 

 

 

 

 

I woke up suddenly.  What a weird dream.  Some one was going to kill me?  Some sort of secret organization?  I couldn't really remember.

 

But as I got dressed, a thought hit me.  Maybe I'd been drugged.  Some kind of amnesia pill.  But somehow I'd remembered it, as a dream.

 

I supposed I should thank Oceansica the next time I saw her.