//------------------------------//
// 01 - Nightmares and a Journal  
// Story: Bridging Words 
// by The SideKick 
//------------------------------//

"Hey, YOU!"

Freezing in place you begin to panic, Miss Conson had caught you trying to sneak away from the line of kids leading into the lunchroom.

"Young man, this is the third time this week I have found you slipping away during lunch time, going to stare off into space out in the courtyard if your previous "outings" are anything to go by."

Keeping your mouth shut you slowly turn around to face the large woman, nodding your confession to her accusation with a contrite look upon your face. She keeps her stern expression for a moment before facing the other kids and speaking to them in a firm voice.

"The rest of you hurry along and get your food now, this is not a discussion that needs an audience." 

You felt your skin crawling as the other kids filed out of the hallway, almost every one of them either whispering, glancing at you, chuckling at you, or pointing at you. When you were relieved of the prying eyes of your housemates Miss Conson lost her hard edge, her face softening as she kneeled down to eye level with you. 

"Listen, there is nothing wrong with having your own quiet time, but you cannot go and starve yourself for it."

Managing eye contact was hard as you felt a heat rise in your chest.

"It's fine, I'm not hungry."

Miss Conson put a hand your shoulder, her warm smile dipping somewhat.

"Is this about the couple that came to pick up Jeff the other day? I know tha-"

Quickly you shove her hand off and back up a few steps, the heat in your chest spreading out to your face as it starts to turn crimson.

"You don't know nothing! Jeff was just some dumb orphan like the rest of us, so don't go thinking he meant any more to me than any of those jerks just because he liked to hang around me!"

Punctuating your point by pointing a thumb at where the other kids had been you fold your arms over your chest and look away from Miss Conson. Her smile drops all together as she stands back up, looking back down at you with the same stern expression as before.

"Now listen here, just because you're moody does not mean you can go around disrespecting me. I am still the head of this facility and I demand respect."

Before you could stop it you felt the words leaving your mouth with all the same ferocity as you would if you had been spitting fire.

"Well you know WHAT?! You can take MY respect and shove it right up your-!"

"ENOUGH!"

She cut you off before you could even finish your sentence, but the furious shade of red that coloured her cheeks combined with her stiff posture told you she knew how it would have ended.

"If you really aren't hungry then you should have no problem whatsoever spending the lunch hour in your room! And you can also help the staff clean up the lunchroom once the others have finished eating, so be expecting my call when they are done, understand?"

Face just as red as hers and a rebellious fire burning strongly within, you almost retort again, but knowing you had already buried yourself deep enough as it was, you instead bite your cheek and nod sharply, yet you still refuse to make eye contact.

"Well then, off with you. I don't want to see you again until I call for you."

Not even wanting to look in her general direction, you turn around and stomp down the hall back to your room. Really it wasn't just your room though, each room of the orphanage was able to hold up to four kids at any given time with two bunk beds each. When you make it there you quickly climb to a top bunk and lay down, still fuming. More at yourself than at Miss Conson if you had to be honest.

She's strict yes, but that's more just a necessity when she constantly had to deal with a large group of kids. Otherwise, she was a very nice woman and from what you know you could have done much worse than being stuck with her. You do feel bad giving her so much trouble, she only ever tried being nice to you, but she doesn't understand that you just want to be left alone. Then she had to mention Jeff.

Jeff was an okay kid, you guess. He wanted to spend a lot of time trying to talk to you for whatever reason, not that you really cared. You shared a few interests and weren't bothered that much by him. The thing was that he was just seven years old when he got adopted. Having lived in an orphanage since almost birth you knew how the game was played, the parents always wanted the nicest, YOUNGEST kid they could find. A kid they could grow up with, so the older you got the lower your chances of getting adopted were. You could be the nicest kid in the world, but if you were thirteen or older you would need all the luck in the world to get adopted. 

Jeff getting adopted reminded you of how close you were getting to that near-to-impossible-to-adopt age. Being ten years old was scary for you. If you turned thirteen and were still here you know you would still be here all the way up until you were eighteen, legally an adult.

You hated this, you hated that stupid adults only ever picked super young kids, you hated that you were still here, you hated all the other kids here, you hate, hate, HATED your stupid real parents. No, stupid wasn't strong enough for them. 

Dumb, idiotic, booger brained, jerkface, GOD DAMNED LITTLE FU-!

Your breath hitched suddenly, only then did you notice that you had been crying, your hands aching from having clenched so hard. Wiping your face off with a shirt sleeve you look out the room’s singular window. The sun hung in the sky, casting its warm rays through the glass and into the room, the warm light on your skin comforting.

You stare out into the open world, just wondering what you could be doing right now if you weren't stuck here. Watching T.V. with some friends on a comfy couch, exploring the place you would be living in, going to a normal school, going on vacation with your fami-

You cut that line of thinking off there and shift around in bed, your comfort diminishing a bit.  Feeling your eyes grow heavy you figure that you might as well catch a quick nap before you had to help clean up the lunchroom. Turning over to face away from the window you close your eyes and let sleep drift over you slowly, the sun on your back being the last thing you remember as the outside world fades away.





When you wake up you're in Canterlot Castle, in your room given to you by your adoptive mother, Princess Celestia. 

You've woken up from a similar nightmare every night for the last three months, always at some godforsaken time. Looking around the room you repeat the same ritual you've developed in these long months, wiping the tears from your eyes, going through all the steps you read about that help you determine if you're in a dream or not, such as pinching yourself and looking for a reflection in mirrors. When you finish checking to see if you were asleep or not you go and shower, getting ready for the day ahead. It was still another hour until the sun rose, but you know from many restless nights that you wouldn't be able to get back to sleep. So instead of leaving your room right then you instead sit at your desk, take a journal you had in one of its drawers out, open it up to where you had written previously, and begin to transcribe your dream onto the next blank page.

This has become your routine, trying to understand dreams and reality at only the young age of ten just so you could have faith that the home you now lived in was, in fact, real.