Lightning lashed the cool air, momentarily chasing away the black night in the unlit room, where a young woman sat with a book on her lap, having dozed off mid-read. Ruby-Rose was her name. Her hair, as dark as midnight, curled in loose ringlets, framed a handsome face. Her smooth olive skin glowed softly; her long, dark lashes curved enviously; her lips, full and soft, gleamed red as an apple—all visible only briefly—as short as the lightning flash.

The angry clap of thunder, as if the sky were ripping itself open, jolted Ruby awake, drool having made its way down her chin. She slurped and sat up straight in her chair, wiping the wet dribble with the back of her hand. She grabbed her book—a thick, voluminous collection of fairy tales around the world—and tried to place it on the table that had but a moment ago been in front of her. It was bedtime, most definitely.

Instead of meeting the solid face of the desk, the brick of a book, or rather, the block of a book thudded to the floor like an anvil, giving her quite a fright.

"What the?" Ruby muttered, reaching a hand ahead in the dark to locate her table lamp, which she was sure she hadn't turned off yet. Why was it so dark in the room? Why wasn't her lamp still on?

Forget the lamp, Ruby couldn't even find her desk. She patted her hand in the air, blind in the pitch black of the room. She needed light to see. She took a step forward, thinking maybe she had unknowingly pushed her chair too far back from the desk, hence the book's Oscar-worthy landing. She just hoped she hadn't woken up her entire household. Her mum would not be happy, woken by what sounded like a crash this early—or was it 'late' at night? Her little brother would definitely grumble, 'How come Ruby's allowed to throw things and I'm not?'

Robbie had a temper issue as far as they knew. He did not need further encouragement in that department.

Ruby tried again, outstretched hand patting the air in search of her desk and her lamp upon it.

Maybe Robbie had peeked in and, seeing her asleep, had moved her further away from her desk and turned her light off as a prank. It wasn't funny!

"Come on. Where are you?" She patted the air some more, taking tiny hesitant steps towards her desk. She knew acutely that she had left her school bag lying around, and her tennis bag too. Her shoes were probably somewhere in the middle of the floor—mines, waiting to ambush her. If Robbie had turned her away from her desk, she was going the wrong way and her chances of tripping over were astronomical.

"Come on desk, where are you?" Ruby forged ahead another step, deciding whether she should turn around and waddle the other way. If she was right and Robbie had turned her, she was also about to either walk into her closet, her door, or the foot of her bed. She was not looking forward to an 'anticipated' stubbed toe.

The rain was pelting down tonight. She could hear the relentless attacks on the terra-cotta roof tiles, or her window panes.

As she blindly moved about her room, another flash of lightning lit the sky outside and with it, revealed to Ruby that her desk was indeed not in front of her. Nor were her things littering the floor like safety hazards. And her bed? Forget about walking into a foot, she'd have to be careful about hitting her head on the post! Why was there a post on her bed—four posts?!

If fact, that brief flare of light had revealed, she was not in her room at all. Or anyone else's. No. A room like this did not exist in this house, nor the neighbourhood. Perhaps on TV shows and museums, or old forts and castles, but not modern day homes.

Ruby waited for another strobe of light as her heart pounded in her chest. Where was she? This was not her room, perhaps not even her world.

Her world did not have medieval castles, gilded window panes, and four-poster beds in rooms the size of her small family home.

As a flare of lightning lit the dark room, Ruby was sure as she could be... she was no longer in her room. Or her house.

She rubbed her eyes. "I have to be dreaming. I have to be." She pinched herself until she yelped. She slapped her face aplenty, but no matter how much Ruby tried, she couldn't wake up from this dream.

When she took another step ahead in the dark, she almost tripped, and a lashing of lightning revealed her foot had collided with the book she'd fallen asleep reading.

Fairy-tales from around the Globe.

Ruby picked it off the floor—cobalt-stoned floor!—and rushed to the narrow window, where barely enough moonlight filtered through the thick pane.

She read the title again. The book was real. And if the book was real—could the place be?

"No." She shook her head. "It's just a dream. I fell asleep reading and now I'm dreaming I'm in the story, hence why the book feels real."

She pinched herself again and was sure she could feel the pain as true as day. Was that possible in a dream? But her heart was telling her no.

"Just go to bed and you'll wake you in your room." She tried to convince herself, fumbling in the dark towards the enormous bed for a bit until she remembered her phone could still be in her pocket.

Ruby patted herself down and indeed found a phone in her pocket. As soon as she freed it from the pocket, she turned the torch on and eyed the room.

She stood in the middle of a stonemason room, carved limestone bricks; a giant hearth to one side, on the other a large four-poster bed. To another end, a small writing table, minus the table lamp. The lush, enormous carpet she stepped on was soft underneath, and covered half the giant room. It was definitely no wooden laminate from her bedroom.

"Where am I?" She eyed the ceiling and found there were no such things as fans or lights. Not the ones she was used to. Instead, she could see soot-blackened chandelier.

She patted the cold stone walls with her hand, and they felt as real as anything.

She eyed the door then, timidly walking to it, hoping once she opened it, she'd see the small corridor they shared between their three bedroom—gyprock walls lined with photos of a smiling, happy family—a thing that was now something of a memory, just like dad.

"Do it." Ruby psyched herself up. "Wake up. Go pee, and then straight to bed with you." I just hope Robbie's left the seat down!

It took her a moment to figure out the odd latch on the odd door and she repeated to herself, "It's a dream," all the way until she stepped into a space that echoed with silence. She looked left, and she looked right, only to see darkness deepen, and so she used the small torch from her phone to spy what was definitely not a small corridor with photos of a once-happy-family. As far as the weak light could reach, she saw naught but the stone walls engulfed in darkness. Not a soul stirred, nor any sound penetrated the odd hollow of silence that lingered the chilly halls.

"Hello?" she dared speak—in a whisper, of course—afraid to wake monsters, should there be any. If she was right about this being a dream, a dream influenced by the story she'd fallen asleep reading, she should be in a castle, perhaps in young Snow White's shoes.

Ruby scoffed, amused at her own thoughts. Snow White's shoes! What were the chances of that? Even if it were in a dream.

Another crack of thunder jolted her, and she nearly dropped her phone to the cold stone floor.

She grabbed it mid-air and rushed back into the room, adamant that the dream would end if she fell asleep. That she'd wake in her own room in the morning. As she closed the door and replaced the hinge-latch, her phone screen glowed.

She brought it to face her, only to realise she'd accidentally pressed the camera button and the front camera was on. Her own face stared back at her, and something odd caught her attention.

She spied an odd costume hanging off the foot of the bed. She vaguely knew it, but couldn't place a finger on it. Where was it from??

She shone the phone light onto a frock, its sleeves puffed and waist tiny, made of silk and ribbons. Rich and antique.

"What in the world?" She stared at it as she moved closer to the bed that wasn't hers. Whose dress was it? Hers? And what a hideous thing it was.

"Just go to bed," she demanded of herself, shaking her head as if shaking the ugly thoughts away. "We'll go to bed and wake up, and it will be all right again. You just have to stop reading these outlandish books before bed. Maybe tomorrow you can read something happy. Not some story about a sad girl who has a target on her back. Maybe a happy tale..." but Ruby couldn't think of one happy fairytale in that instant. Not a single one.

As if reading her thoughts, the sky lit up again, and thunder laughed at her in raptures.

Ruby sat upon the bed, hugging herself, rocking back and forth as the storm raged on outside. "It's just a dream. It's just a dream."

But no matter how long she chanted, the world about her did not return.

The flashes of lightning would only show her the dream. If it were a dream.

WC: 1660         TWC: 1660

[A/N: What do you think has happened to our Ruby? Where do you think she is?]