The Shatters: The Silence Chronicles

Chapter Twelve: Dream Visitor

That night, I get into the guest bed and fall asleep quickly. I don't mean to, but as soon as I get settled, I feel instantly exhausted. I doze off and fall asleep with my back to the bed and wander into the world of dreams.

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I'm in a forest filled with snow, little wet snowflakes falling silently down their own paths to the blanket of snow surrounding my feet. But I'm not cold. Sure, I can feel the freezing temperature, and the coolness of the snow, but I embrace the coldness until it's comfortable instead of facing it like a sharp bite. I'm not even wearing a jacket, and my feet have no shoes. The fresh snow feels soft and comfortable under my toes. I can feel little flakes of the peaceful snow landing on my eyelashes, kissing my skin, and weaving through my hair.

"Arianna?" I turn around at the voice. It's my mother. Her voice rings out and echoes abnormally. She's wearing a heavy parka, several layers of clothing, and thick winter boots, and still shivering. "Arianna, what are you doing standing there without a coat, sweetie? You'll freeze."

"I won't, Mom, I promise," I reply plainly, but kindly. I hear the echoes of my voice. "I'm not even cold." I'm not worried about the fact that we're all alone in a forest in some wintry place, but I'm enjoying the snow around me. Just watching it, feeling it, admiring it. Until my mom came, it was just me and the snow, all alone in this wonderland.

"I just came to say goodbye, Ari," she says sweetly with the kindest smile that I know from anywhere belongs to my mother. "I'll miss you. I really will miss you. You were always so patient and smart and kind, whereas your siblings or your father or I would be the opposite in many situations. You're really such a smart girl."

"What do you mean? Won't you visit me again?" I ask, sounding a little like a child. "Your last visit ended so poorly, and I just wish we could spend some quality time together."

"So let's spend quality time together now, while we still have the chance," she suggests, and I agree. So we sit down in the snow together, and I lean my head on her shoulder, and we watch the snow fall together for what seems like hours. Occasionally I ask her something, or she pats my head, or blows on her hands and rubs them together to keep warm, but the majority of the time is spent just appreciating the beautiful snowy world around us.

Suddenly there's a pool of blood around us, staining the snow scarlet. I scream and look over and see my mother lying in the red snow as more blood erupts from her. She's still alive, but barely.

"Mom!" I shriek, and bend down to help her. "Mom, what can I do? What's happening?! How can I help you? Please don't go."

"It's too late, sweetheart," she says softly, and strokes my cheek. "Don't be sad. I'm still here. I always will be."

"How can I help you?" I repeat, only wanting an answer. She can't go. Not yet. We're not ready for her to leave yet.

She pauses, not knowing whether she should reply or not. Finally she whispers, "Find them." I nod and promise that I will no matter what happens, her blood coating my hands, and her eyes glaze over. I scream, sobbing, and hug her lifeless body to me, not caring about whether my skin or clothes stain red. I don't care about anything except my mom in this moment. My mom lying in the snow I love so much.

I close my eyes and cry over her, the tears running down my face, the salty tears falling past my mouth and off my chin. When I open my eyes again, everything is gone. It's just me in a void of blackness, and my mom is gone along with the snow, the forest, and the blood. I wipe my eyes, noticing that I'm dry except for the tears still spilling out of my eyes and there's none of my mother's blood on my hands anymore.

The only thing in the black, empty nothingness is a tree this time. A tall, beautiful willow tree. I recognize it as the one from the Willow Chamber, but in this room, (or whatever it is), it seems so much more sad. It doesn't glow or seem cheery or magnificently happy, but instead the branches seem to hang more, almost hidden in the darkness. I sniff and get up from my knees, then walk to the tree, placing my hand on the bark and feeling its grooves and marks.