Oliver's Dream

• Phoebe Morgan, Grade 12
• Short Story
• 2011

Stella was calling for him. He was lost in a hedge maze and it didn’t matter which way he turned: he couldn’t find her. Suddenly he saw up ahead a glass window inside a hedge wall. He ran up to it and peered through. Stella was standing there, she was looking about her, calling his name:
“Oliver!” She screamed spinning in circles; looking for him. She ran in one direction. But she had not gone two feet before she fell forward. Oliver looked and saw her ankle was chained to a small peg, glowing red, in the grassy earth. She scrambled to her feet and circled around the peg looking in all directions, calling his name.
“Oliver!” She screamed. “Oliver- help me!”
“Stella!” He called to her; banging his fist against the glass. “Stella!”
“She can’t hear you.” A voice next to him said.
He turned to see who it was. He jumped. There staring back at him was himself. A wicked smile was on his face instead of the shocked look he himself was wearing.
He could hear Stella calling him.
“Oliver! Where are you?”
The second Oliver disappeared in a burst of scarlet fire and reappeared behind Stella. The Oliver that was still behind the glass could see the second one holding something behind his back. He looked closer and saw that it was a small dagger, a thin blade attached to a black handle with a ruby twinkling on its hilt.
“I’m here Stella.” The second Oliver said.
The first Oliver was bashing the glass again with his fist; screaming at her:
“No! Stella! No! Get away from him! Run! Run away!”
It did no good, she couldn’t hear him. He was forced to watch as Stella embraced the second Oliver before he pushed her away and plunged the dagger into Stella’s chest.
“NO!” The first Oliver screamed. He fell to his knees and watched as his own wife fall to the ground, looking at the second Oliver with horror in her eyes.
The first Oliver saw the second Oliver burst into scarlet flames and turn into the witch.
With a jerk, Oliver fell off his bed onto the floor. Panic was still flooding through his veins as he realised where he was. His hands were shaking as he wiped the sweat off his brow; taking a sigh of relief as he got up from the carpeted floor and put the blankets back on the bed.
His heart was still pounding as he stood looking out of the window. He looked about the small room that was his prison and saw the locked door opposite him. It was hopeless- the witch wasn’t going to release him until her plan was finished. Stella was on her way to him right now and she was walking right into her trap.
He threw himself back down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling until he fell asleep.