Before the World Wakes
She had always loved mornings.. the kind that existed before the world demanded anything of her. Waking early to watch the sunrise felt almost sacred. True, it could never rival the drama of a sunset, nor the quiet magic of stars slowly igniting the night sky, hinting at something vast and unknowable beyond human reach. She believed there was something greater out there. She always had. But she was a dreamer, and dreamers were often accused of imagining too much.
Mornings asked nothing. That was why she loved them.
Unfortunately, the thing that pulled her into them was far from poetic.
“Ugh—silence, you annoying alarm…” she groaned as the shrill sound tore through the room.
This was no soft, cinematic wake-up call. No gentle melody paired with golden light slipping through sheer curtains. This alarm was violent. Ear-piercing. The kind that felt personally offensive.
Enough, Annie. Wake up and turn it off before the whole neighborhood does.
She stretched an arm out blindly and slapped the snooze button. Yes, she was the kind of person who needed twenty alarms to wake up. Yes, she knew it was unhealthy. But sleep was precious. Sacred, even. She liked to stretch it as long as she could, as if clinging to it might delay everything waiting on the other side of consciousness. If only she could study sleeping while sleeping. The thought of work, of adulthood, of responsibility looming somewhere in her future already felt cruel.
Five—maybe ten—minutes later, the alarm screamed again.
She groaned, but this time reality followed close behind. If she didn’t get up now, she’d miss the sunrise. And breakfast. And the quiet moment that belonged only to her before the day began making claims.
With an irritated glance at her phone, she finally turned the alarm off, staring at the darkened screen as if negotiating with it.
Getting up, it is.
She rose with dramatic reluctance and shuffled toward her wardrobe—her so-called fashion boutique. The school uniform waited patiently: a black, thigh-length skirt, a crisp shirt, and a blazer bearing the art school’s embroidered logo.
Equality, they called it.
Uniforms were supposed to erase difference. Supposed to quiet the bullies who measured worth in cashmere blouses and ten-carat diamonds. But Annie had learned early that bullies were resourceful. If they wanted to hurt someone, they always found a way.
Still—new school. New rules. New chances.
She adjusted her glasses, a soft excitement flickering beneath them. Maybe this time, things would be different. Maybe she’d simply get to be herself and enjoy the classes she’d chosen. Maybe that would be enough.
She made her way downstairs, the spaciousness of the house greeting her with familiar silence. It wasn’t a villa, exactly, but there was room to breathe, room to think. She grabbed her lunchbox—just in case time betrayed her—and slipped out back, following the narrow, winding path beyond the yard.
It led to her tree.
Not the largest. Not the most impressive. But hers.
Every morning, she climbed its rough branches, palms brushing against bark that felt grounding in a way people rarely did. Today was no different—except her chest buzzed with a strange, unplaceable anticipation.
With careful movements, she climbed until she was seated comfortably, facing the horizon where the sun greeted her each day.
It was magnificent.
She pulled out her sketchbook and began to draw as the sun kissed the edge of the sky, light slowly spilling outward like a promise. Drawing was how she understood the world—how she loved it. Translating feeling into lines and shadows made everything feel bearable. Meaningful.
Some might have called it lonely.
She didn’t.
It felt like connection. To something beyond sight. Beyond words.
She paused for a moment, pencil hovering, and wondered, briefly, what it would feel like to share this silence with someone else. Someone who wouldn’t rush it. Someone who would understand why mornings mattered.
The thought surprised her.
She shook it off and kept drawing.
Half an hour passed in peaceful stillness before her legs began to protest, a gentle cramp reminding her that time, unlike her, refused to linger. The sun had fully claimed the sky now. With a reluctant sigh, Annie climbed down, brushed the dew from her skirt, and took a deep breath of the cool morning air.
Somewhere behind her, the world was waking.
And soon, she would have to meet it.
