By: MARCELLA DECOUD
The warm, welcoming embrace of sunlight peaked through white clouds in a clear sky as a light breeze whistled through the air. A field of tall, beautiful daisies danced elegantly in response to the wind’s playful nudging. They stretched the land for miles, as far as the eye could see, blanketing the land in a soft yellow and white. The wind carried the sweet, intoxicating aroma of flowers through the air, as if to share it with everyone and anyone who cared to partake in its beauty.
In the center of the vast yellow field of serenity, there lay a small child, sleeping, atop a bed of flowers. The flowers were bent over in an arch-like formation, as if they had, all at once, reached out to catch the little boy who had fallen into his own slumber. He rested atop the bright petals peacefully, breathing softly. The child had golden hair, brighter than even the freshest flower in the field. He wore a worn, red shirt, navy blue jeans, and black tennis shoes, heavily stained with grass and dirt. The wind gently caressed the boy’s face. Slowly but surely, he opened his small, chocolate brown eyes in response. He sighed heavily as he stared up into the bright blue sky, squinting his eyes slightly at the sun’s radiance. The slight breeze rustled his hair and clothing, and the boy took another deep breath as he slowly closed his eyes again, soaking in the comforting warmth of the sun and pleasant scent of flowers that filled his nose. After a moment, he slowly, gradually, sat up and for the first time, took in his surroundings.
Daisies… He thought sadly. Mom’s favorite…
The boy could not help but to hold back tears then. His mother’s death had been the single most traumatic event in his entire life, and it was a weight he had carried every day for the past five years. She had protected him from the murderer that had entered their house in the middle of the night, shielding him from the dangerous dagger the man wielded, saving his life. His father had arrived home to see their house nearly torn apart, and his wife killed. He could never forget that day, a memory that would forever be implanted in his brain. At one point in his life, the boy knew that he would have found great joy relaxing in this peaceful, serene field, but now it only left him feeling alone.
After another few moments, the boy stretched and stood up shakily. The flowers that had caught him slowly ascended back to their natural stance, as if straightening themselves after being crumpled for so long. Looking around, he wondered exactly where he was. Suddenly, as if being smacked in the back of the head, a realization hit him.
Wait, how did I get here? Where’s dad?
As the boy started walking through the field, he called for his father, but was met with no response. He wandered for a few minutes, not knowing what direction he was going, or how to even get out of the field. He spent a long time walking and thinking. Thinking about himself, thinking about his friends, thinking about what his future. The boy knew that, just as the world around him was changing, he was changing too.
His mother’s death had changed him, his friends, his family. He was no longer scared, no longer timid. He was a stronger person, someone that would fight for those he loved. He would no longer run or hide, he would do everything in his power to right all of the wrongs done to those he loved, to pick up the pieces of his life and the lives he so dearly cherished.
The boy jumped at the sound of a familiar voice calling his name.. He knew that voice, it was his mother’s voice. The boy fought to not let the overwhelming feeling of sadness take over, and shook his head frantically.
This must be my imagination.
He felt a light tap on his shoulder, and he immediately whirled towards the touch, his mouth automatically opening in disbelief. About ten yards away, he could see the figure of a woman in her signature blue dress and long, fiery red hair. Her body emanated a ghastly white glow, and as she turned her head to look in his direction, the boy felt a shockwave go through him. He shivered, and immediately, tears started pouring down his face.
It… can’t be.
“M… Mom?” He whispered faintly, barely able to get the words out. His throat went hoarse as tears dripped down his face. He was completely lost for words.
This woman – no, his mother – gazed fondly at him with what the boy felt were the most sorrowful eyes he had ever seen. She gave a small smile, and turned to walk away. Richard watched her for a few seconds as she walked through the flowers. Suddenly, she faded away, as if into thin air. Richard cleared his throat as he called out for her return. He sprinted in her direction as rapidly as he could, tears blinding his vision. He needed to see her again, to finally say goodbye.
As he burst through the last of the flowers, he staggered and just managed to catch himself before falling flat on his face. He was in a small clearing now, rich with thick, green grass that ended abruptly at a high cliff. Richard could see past the cliff for miles. His home, in a small village, was visible in the distance, and even further on, he could see the beautiful ocean, stretching towards the horizon. Here hovered the figure of his mother, suspended high above the cliff. She floated there, as if the wind gently held her in its arms.
Mom, please don’t go…
His mother continued to float there, those sad eyes penetrating the boy’s shattered heart with her own sorrow. He stood there for a few moments, staring at his mother as her hair danced around in the wind. The boy wanted so desperately to reach out and touch her, to feel the warmth of a mother’s embrace one last time. Desperately and mindlessly, he sprinted towards the edge of the cliff as fast as he could. As he reached the edge, he jumped with all of his might in the air towards his mother, holding out his arms. His mother extended her own arms out, as if trying to embrace him, but just they were about to touch, the boy felt himself start to fall..faster..faster…faster.
And as Richard fell, the last thing he could see was his cherished mother, smiling back at him with soft, loving eyes.