Cathy and Zelda

1

By Foureyess2

Chapter 1: The dreams3

I am walking, no, stumbling along the road, people are all around us, yelling and screaming things in what sounds like Dutch. I am stumbling along this dry, cracked road with a million or so other people looking like they should be in graves right now. One man of about 80 turns to me and says; “Do you know where we are heading?” I can hardly talk and so I am walking along-side this man, spluttering, whilst total strangers are yelling rude, obnoxious things at us. Some of them have signs saying things I don’t have any intention of reading, and some have pictures. The pictures that started it all. The pictures of the Jewish people with rat like noses. A picture is worth a thousand words. Just one picture can change it all….4

I sit up and whip the sweat off of my forehead. I also whip my tears away. Another dream. I have been having dreams like this since I was a little green eyed baby who could barley speak. Dreams of death and crime, things you would never see out on the streets or on the news. Dreams were whole countries are fighting against each other. I am only twelve, and desperately want these dreams to stop. You would think that buy know I had gotten used to the dreams, but no. They change every night, change so that I am scared stiff every time I close my eyes. I sit up and turn on the light. I walk over to my deck and pull out my diary. I turn to a fresh page. I start to write, no, to talk. But I talk on the paper. I talk about my dream, why I want it to stop. I have been to doctor after doctor, but they just say; “She’ll grow out of it.” That is what he said when I was seven. I am twelve now, five years on. I not only write about my dream, but about my day, the kids at school, the teachers. Then I get out another notebook, my poetry notebook, and write about nature and the strange things I see in my dreams. I write and read books and listen to music until the early hours of the morning. When it is 6:00am, 4 hours and 38 minutes since I woke up, my mother comes in and asks me what the hell I am doing. “I had another dream.” I say. That is all I have to say, she knows what I am talking about. She sits down on the end of my bed. “Cathy…..” she hesitates. “Cathy…..” I am getting annoyed with my “mother.” When I say it like that, it is because in my dreams I have another mother and another father. This women sitting on the end of my bed is not the mother of in my dreams. The mother in my dreams looks exactly like the person I am in my dreams. She, like my dream self, has short black hair and big green eyes. Except my dream self has hair down to her waist. The father in my dreams is not the man snoring in the other room either. In my dreams my father is a happy, brunet haired father, bubbly and brown eyed. But the people that say they are my parents both have blond hair and white-blue eyes. I still have black hair and green eyes. And my name is not Cathy, I have told them that, time and time again. My name is Zelda, or at least that is what my dream self is called. In my dreams, if someone is ever to address me they call me Zelda. I suite it. I wondered why, whenever someone at school called for me, calling me Cathy, I would ignore them, thinking it was just some random calling out to someone called Cathy, forgetting that I was supposedly that Cathy. “Get some sleep.” Mum says. I walk over to my bed and get back under the covers. I close my eyes, and in no time I am asleep……5

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“Cathy!” yells Alicia. I am looking out the window of our third period Math class. My least favourite subject. My favourites would have to be History and English. I hate math, I quit like sport, but sometimes my knee hurts allot, I did something to it last year and so I have to wear this strap on my knee and if it hurts allot then I cannot play sport. Something relatively hard hits me on the head, awaking me from my day dreaming. I look up to see Alicia, Kate and Roshell sitting on top of the table 3-4 seats away from mine. They are sniggering. I look around me and find a stapler, what they trough at me. I look up at them, tears stinging my eyes, pure hatred rolling off of me. I hate them. I wish they would stop being so immature and just grow up! Mrs. Stevenson walks into the room, she didn’t know it, but if she hadn’t walked in at that exact moment, then I swear I would have lunged at Alicia and her friends and ripped their pretty hair out! Ever since year 4, Alicia and I have hated each other. I don’t know why she hated me, but she does and I learnt to except that I may be a good person, but some people just don’t care about that stuff when looking for a friend. There is this girl Samantha in my class, very nice, polite girl with thick blond hair and big green eyes. She is not very popular, but she isn’t a loner like me. I would like to be her friend, but I don’t particularly need a friend, need anybody. I have myself and my diary and my poem notebook. Mrs. Stevenson starts droning on about nothing important whilst I stare out the window, thinking about my most resent dream and what will come tonight. When third period is over and I go to my locker to collect my books, I hear giggling and whispering from behind me. I don’t even bother to look. I know it is Alicia and her colt and they are probably laughing about me. No, forget the probably, make that a defiantly. I walk into the girls bathroom and put my hair into a ponytail and get the damn annoying eye-lash out of my eye before I start crying in frustration. I walk out and down the hallway towards the library. Alicia and her friends wouldn’t be seen dead in the library, though I love it. All those many, many books. Jane Era, Jane Austin, Charles Dickens, Tomas Hardy, Harper Lee and many others. I walk over to the History section and get out a World War Two book and start to read. I read about the Holocaust, which was WW2. When Adolf Hitler came into power, he got his followers, the Nazis, to hunt down all the Jewish people Germany and kill them in anyway, for he resented Jews. Over the period of six years, Hitler ended up killing 6, 000, 000 people, not all Jewish. He killed Gay people, Politicians, Disabled people and people that ether got in his way or people that were hiding Jewish people in their homes or nearby. He sent people off to places called Concentration Camps, were people died from exhaustion, disease’s or were shot by the guards. That is what my dreams are biased on. The times of the Holocaust and I am on a death march with millions, marching to our deaths. When the bell rings I put the book away and see something drop onto my shirt. I look down to see a drop of water on the front of my shirt. I realize I was silently crying. 7

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So I don't want to be the bad guy,19

I want to be the good guy,210

I want to be the one,311

Who will lift your spirits high12

I want to change the world,13

I want to make it fair,14

I want to help the people,15

I want to make our voices heard16

For, this world could be great,17

If only we just tried,18

Then it could even be live able,19

But all we have to do is try20

So get off the couch,21

You silly bugger,22

HELP this world become better,23

Get off the couch,24

You couch potato25

Come on, get off your bum!26

Help make racism history,27

To restore world peace,28

For When the power of Love,29

Overcomes the Love of Power,30

Then the world will truly know what Peace is.....31

After I finished my poem I went to bed, awaiting the dreams that will soon awaken me, again, in fear.......32