The leaves on the floor are prickling your feet. You carry that bag of school books and wish you did not stay off track. The shoe store would be closer, you think, and there is a shape in the distance. A woman coldly welcomes you into the store. She is tall and thin, her hair tied into a tight bun and she holding a mallet, much thicker than her thin wrist. She sits down with her materials and makes the shoes you request. 'Red or blue?' she asks. 'Blue,' you reply. She picks up the yellow coloured leather. 'This blue is the highest quality,' she says. She assembles the shoes in lightning speed. She knocks the heels on with the big mallet. BANG! BANG! Metallically, like gunshots. You watch her. She is not fast enough. 'Faster, faster!' you shout. She quickens. 'Faster.' The spinning glass ornaments on the shelf quiver and shatter. Steam hisses out of the kettle over the fire. The thin woman continues on, banging the hammer with all her might. Cracks begin to appear on the bench and spread across the floor. Light peers out of the crack and slowly pries the ground apart. You continue shouting, the look of defiance shining on your face. The ground tilts and you fall towards the open door, the only way out, the only way, but it shuts, squashing you like a fly.
You sit up. Oblivion. It has passed on.
The feathers float gently on their strings, as if being blown by a gently breeze. In the pitch darkness, the beads glitter on the dreamcatcher.