I Would Survive

I sat down on the cool grey tombstone, tracing the words on it.

In loving memory of Sophia Delores.

1915–1945.

La Mort n'est qu'une passerelle.

Death is just a gateway.

One never gets over things such as this. Death. My mother and I were extremely close. We did everything together and when she died of brain cancer, we never got over it. My father left and I, well, it doesn't matter anymore.

I stood up with my eyes watering, memories coming back to me.

I wiped my face. There was no point in crying. The dead will remain dead and no tears of mine can change that.

That was when I saw it.

Another tombstone further from my mother's. It was a good distance away and behind a thick oak tree. I ran towards it. Some of the words were covered with creeping plants but it was enough to make sense of it.

Here lies the body of-

Marie D-

1945-1963.

I sobered up and traced my steps back to my mother's grave. My heart beating loud and fast. My stomach became hot at once. No! This isn't possible. I tried to read the rest of the tombstone and I froze. My brain stopped working and suddenly all I could hear was the fast-paced beating of my heart. I placed a hand over my chest and I jumped back, alarmed.

There was nothing.

I placed my thumb over the base of my wrist and tried to listen for a pulse.

Nothing.

My breathing spiralled out of control. This can't be real. Things like this only happens in books-

I stilled.

This was looking awfully familiar, an odd sense of déjà vu  coming to me.

Even so, I couldn't put my finger on it. I looked up to the sky and it was a light grey. Looking like it might rain later. I started to the little cottage that I had. It was not that far as it was at the mouth of the woods.

I went into the tiny kitchen, pulling out a kettle and filling it with water. I drummed my fingers against the counter, waiting, as the water boiled.

SMACK!

I walked tentatively to the small living room, a tendril of fear attempting to grip me. I shoved it away.

SMACK!

My eyes traced the sound and landed on the windows. I sighed, relief evident on my face and closed the windows. I marched back to the kitchen and after making my cup of tea, returned to the living room, slumping in my chair.

I rotated it to face away from the window, my mind making up theories as to how and why I was in this situation. I reached for one of my novels on the bookshelf beside me, reading absentmindedly. It was a thriller- horror type of novel about the undead, other worldly creatures and the likes. Half an hour later, I had a recurring sense of déjà vu. I hadn't quite forgotten my odd situation and these themes were getting familiar.

The ebony haired woman looked at her dead parents, their almost transparent bodies swaying lightly in the breeze. "You have until sunset to complete your tasks." Her father said softly but firmly.

Her mother took a deep breath, steeling her resolve and fighting back tears. "If you don't," Her mother's voice cracked, " you'll...you'll become like them."