Connor, The Dreamer

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
Connor is a dreamer and his dreams might get the better of his entire life and the decisions he makes. Connor needs to create himself.

Submitted: April 19, 2015

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Submitted: April 19, 2015



A boy named Connor.

16. Arizona.

Connor wasn't seen as the normal 16 year old, brown-haired boy.




Connor was a dreamer. Connor would day-dream a lot but he would also dream a lot. Although that seems fairly normal for a 16 year old introvert.

Connor's dreams were private but if they were known to the world he would probably be in a bit of trouble. 

He dreamed of love quite often. Sometimes the romantic kind, but mostly of his aesthetics. He dreamed of running through dark forests, the smell of pine and leaves on the moist ground and the sounds of birds hurrying away as the wolf howls at the moon.The part that would put him to shame in his city and in his home was that he enjoyed his dreams. They weren't scary to him. They were beautiful. 



Connor left his camera at home and he was too shy to ask one of his classmates if he could take a picture of the secret doorway into the Chancellery, built in the 20th century. The boy-with-the-blonde-hair looked his way. Connor felt strange. Was he going to have another attack? Connor stole the idea and put it in his box on the table at the end of the passage. Connor had his ocean swirling inside. What was he doing? He felt something sharp press against his spine. His imagination was roaring and his fascination had gotten the better of him. Connor walked to the boy-with-the-blonde-hair. The boy's eyes were an almond green, shining gold-yellow-brown-and-green in the sunlight with Connor almost walking right into the boy's soul. Connor stops in front of him. The boy-with-the-blonde-hair looks at him. Wonders with a strange look on his face at Connor. He feels relaxed. Connor steps closer. 

"Can I kiss you?" Connor asks quietly but inside his guts are rolling and the ocean is climbing out of his spine and watering his back with little blue beads of sweat. His heart fills with the blue-black ocean water and Connor waits for a second or two before he realises how brave he was and feels good about it. Connor created himself. 

The boy-with-the-blonde-hair hastily replies with a grunting acceptance. They embrace. The latch onto each other. They fall in love. Connor was filled a little more with ocean water and he sighed a little and their lips let go of their little hands. Connor looks at him with content. 

"What's your name, my boy?" the boy-with-the-blonde hair asks with a deep and accepting tone.

Connor is taken aback. This boy is more beautiful than anything he has ever laid eyes on and Connor just secretly hopes that people might just accept him now that he may have found happiness and that this might last a little while. Or for very long. Connor wants it to last for very long. 

"Connor. And yours?" He smiles and nothing could make him happier in this moment than being right here in Berlin, standing in front of a man who may change everything in his life. Connor is ecstatic. Nostalgic. Euphoric. 

"William" he says and they indulge for about two seconds before Connor's History teacher hits his arm out from underneath him, the kids laugh and Mrs Darbyshire continues teaching the coming about of the American Judicial System through King John in England in the 12th century.


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