Non-Fiction; The Dream (Fiona Coyne)

[graceviolet]

I know I've posted this before somewhere, but I reallyyyyy love it! Like legit, it's my FAVORITE story I've ever written.
And since the lovely Fiona Coyne is no longer on Degrassi (D: I'll be okay, I promise!! *sobs*), I figured it was the perfect opportunity to post this!
It's actually really funny, my professor read this (& myself) aloud last year in my Advanced Creative Non-Fiction and when the twist happened my ENTIRE class just gasped really loud and were COMPLETELY invested in this story, it was AMAZING!
After class (which kinda upset me) one of the girls in my class said, "Your story was SO good! I wish it was real!"
I was like to myself, "Uh, okay, you wish one of my greatest fears actually happened? Hmmm...okay."
And even my professor was all, "Who knows? Maybe that'll happen someday." (or something along the lines).
(I had SO many issues with that professor last year!)

(I HAVE SO MANY DREAMS ABOUT ANNIE CLARK! IT'S INSANE! TMI?)
Oh and I have a few other non-fiction pieces that I like that you could read too (if you want??)


I was in my bedroom at my parent’s house. When I looked at it, all I saw was a room with four walls that had been painted a light green color, which was a bit of change from the many shades of purple it had been painted in the past. Along with its green walls, was a floral green comforter to match. White flowers were stitched all around the fluffy comforter.
The carpet was a boring shade of beige, that served no fashionable purposes whatsoever.
Other big furniture objects were also in the room, like a desk that had been painted white with flower designs painted on the drawers with purple, green, and yellow paint. A cubed storage unit, with an even amount of square holes was located in the far right hand corner. Things like my stereo, alarm clock, and heaps of books were stuffed into them.
To anyone that had never seen my room before, it would seem like the perfect room; what with the organization, cleanliness and colorfull-ness of it all. But for me, it was just my room, nothing special at all.
I’ve lived in this one room ever since I was ten years old, when we first moved here. I’ve danced around this room, singing along to ridiculous pop music in the wee hours in the night. I’ve hung up posters of famous celebrities all over my closet and bedroom doors in this room. I’ve done many different things in this room, but I’ve never made love to a dark haired, blue-eyed, soft skinned beauty queen before…until one night.
Her name was Fiona Coyne. She was lying down on my floral comforter next to me. The conversation that was being shared between us was about trivial things like our favorite brand of clothing (me: American Eagle, Fifi: anything name brand or expensive), our favorite activity (me: reading and writing, Fi: shopping), and our dislike for boys.
“They think that hello means ‘Do you want to have sex with me?’!” Fiona said to me. While saying this, she brought her hand to my shoulder and slowly moved it down, trying to imitate how she thought a guy would flirt.
My body shivered from her hand touching a part of my body. It was like her fingers were actually tiny little feathers that with just a simple touch, could send me flying up to the ceiling, like I suddenly was balloon, made up of nothing but air.
She brought her hand to her hair and lifted it away from her eyes, causing her brunette curls to sway back and forth.
She was so beautiful, I couldn‘t help but stare. I hope droplets of drool wasn‘t seeping out of my mouth. “I know right!” I said. I hope I wasn’t caught in the act of gazing.
“I’m glad they’re not my choice!” She had laid down next to me on my bed.
I noticed that her hand had moved onto mine, almost as if by accident.
An electric shock surged through me like Fiona‘s hand was a power outlet, and I was curious two year old. I wasn’t sure if it was because of simple static electricity or the fact that I had a massive crush on her ever since I laid eyes on her.
What was there not to love? Her bright blue bow she wore in her hair that seamlessly matched her blue school uniform. Her smile that could light up a room. And her vibrant personality and charm that could reel you in like a cod fish and have you fall madly in love; male or female.
I was reeled in. Hook, line, and sinker.
After I stared at the fact that she was touching my hand, I looked up into her bright sapphire blue eyes and gave what I thought was my best flirtatious smile.
I had given her a smile that had shown all of my pearly white teeth, but had simultaneously thrown in a lower lip bite.
Instead of placing her lips on mine and for us to begin this hot make out session (clothes optional), her lips formed a smirk which followed a chuckle and a cute snort. Only she could make snorting cute. Like she was cute pig and I was an eager six year old.
“Oh my god! That was too cute!” Fiona’s manicured hand covered her mouth. She was still trying to hold back another round of giggles.
I playfully hit her shoulder with my hand. The second I touched her, more electricity fired through me. “Shut up! So I’m a terrible flirt.”
“Well, I wasn’t gonna say terrible.” Fiona responded.
“Hey!” I grabbed my small throw pillow that was next to me and threw it at her lightly.
Not knowing my own strength, Fiona lost her balance. One second, her left hand held her head, the next, she had rolled further down my bed and now faced on her back.
I scoot closer to where she was, “Are you okay?” It took me no time at all to realize my current body position. My left hand touched her shoulder while my face was a mere couple of inches from her face. I could hear the drum beat rhythm of her heart pittering and pattering.
“Yeah, I’m fine…” she never got to fully finish her sentence.
My right hand cupped her rosy cheek, while my left hand slowly moved down her waist. I noticed no tingly sensations were coursing through me anymore. Either I no longer liked her, or I had gotten much more confident in the art of touching Fiona Coyne. I assumed the latter.
Touching her thin waist felt like touching a Barbie doll. No, a perfect little princess. Her hour-glass waist fit perfectly in her denim skirt. My left hand felt like it belonged to be there, like it was puzzle piece that had finally found its correct pair.
Our eyes never left one another. Like if we lost eye contact, this sudden heated moment between us would all be over. As if the second we looked away, we would both self-destrcut.
Our lips were on each other’s faster then you could say, “chemistry”. Like the two of us were opposite magnets that just had to kiss each other because of sheer force.
When we pulled away from our first kiss, smiles lit up on both of our faces.
We proceeded to kiss one another. This turned into a full blown make out session. Kisses deepened. I ran my hands through her soft, delicate, brunette hair, my fingers wrapped around her ringlets of curls. I could faintly smell the scent of cherry; must be her shampoo.
Her hands roamed every inch of my body. She definitely felt the material of my bra poking out from the thin material of my pink cotton t-shirt.
I was glad I was wearing my sexy black lace bra. Now if only Fiona could see it.
As if she already knew what was going to happen, she began to lift said t-shirt over my body, which exposed me.
She smiled at the sight of me. “Hot.”
I don’t want to be the only one shirtless, I thought. I pulled her shirt off of her and took in her bright pink and sparkly bra, which filled her breasts perfectly.
We couldn’t just be shirtless. We took off our own bottom pieces of clothing (for me a pair of jeans and for her a denim skirt), which left the two of us completely half-naked.
Fiona pulled away from our lip lock and whispered in my ear, “You want to…”
Her voice was so sweet and sultry, it was like she was a smooth jazz singer hitting all the right notes.
I knew what she wanted without even asking. My reply was a trail of kisses I gave to her from her lips to her naval.
I created a small circle of kisses around her belly button. To tease her further, I began to plant delicate kisses on her neck.
Her response, a small moan.
I was about to slide further down her body, when my painted white door burst open.
“Hey you guys…” my Mom never finished her sentence. She was too speechless. Her eyes were bugged out, and her mouth was open, almost resembling a cartoon character. Her breathing became heavy, almost resembling an asthma attack.
“Mom!” I gasp. I sprung off of Fiona faster then a teenager minimizes a window on a computer screen, hoping their secret computer searches won’t be revealed to their parents.
My secret had no been revealed. Guess I didn’t hit that minimize button fast enough.
“Mrs. Smith…” Fiona tried to say. She had gotten up off my bed and stood next to me. She quickly clutched her hand in mine.
Tears were already formed and slowly rolled down my eyes.
My Mom still had not said anything.
“Mom?” I repeated.
“Get out!” she softly mustered.
“What?” Fiona and I said in unison.
“Get out!” my Mother said louder. I noticed she had began to walk away from my bedroom door. Like she was scared of me; like I was some monster. In her eyes I was.
We didn’t say anything. We couldn’t say anything. We were too busy rummaging around my floor, trying to put our clothes on.
It was like a race who could find their clothes and successfully put them on, all while being yelled at by my Mother. The winner looked like less of a whore.
Once I was fully clothed, I think my shirt was inside out, but whatever, I ran out of my room and into the hall, where my Mom now was.
She was standing outside of my bedroom in the shadows of the hallway, trying not to look at the grotesque image of two girls in love.
I said to her, “Mom! This isn’t…”
My Mom must have gotten up the courage to face me…finally. But it wasn‘t for the better, like I had thought.
She walked into my room, looked at Fiona, who had just successfully put on her denim skirt, and said, “Get out of my house!” My Mom yelled. I could not believe my Mom had just uttered those words.
“Mom you can’t!” I yelled.
“Watch me!” My Mom had suddenly, sprinted towards her and grabbed a large chunk of Fiona’s long brunette curls and pulled them as hard as she could. As if her hair was part of a horrible tug of war game.
Fiona let out of high pitched scream. Like my Mom was a cold-blooded murder and she was her victim.
I ran over to my Mom to get her to stop. “Mom no! I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
She pulled Fiona by the hair down my family’s staircase.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” I repeated that phrase over and over. I hoped by saying it, it would change things. I noticed the more I repeated it, the fainter it became.
It wasn’t until I had abruptly opened my eyes, that I had known it was just a dream.
I was now all alone underneath the covers of my floral sheets. In the same room in which my dream had taken place.
Water was formed around my eyes. I had thought the dream was so real, that I had actually started to cry in my sleep.
Fiona Coyne wasn’t a real person, just a character on a TV show I watched.
I looked around my room. A faint light from outside came through my curtains. It had to be early morning.
I placed my head back down onto my fluffy pillows and had tried to think of something, anything to get those horrible images of my Mom out of my head.
I just had a dream of my current worst fear.
I couldn’t tell if it was a nightmare or a prediction.