Different worlds

17. Nighmares

POV: Aisha

I open my eyes and find myself  in the back garden of my father's workshop. Everything looked like I remember it from 10 years ago, the few ash trees that hadn't been cut down yet for the stove, the dirt on the ground, the small patches of grass. My child hand was holding tight on a stick and my toes wriggled in the earth, my sandales on the side.
Wait a moment, child hand? Ah. I get it. I must be recalling a memory from my early childhood. I try closing my eyes again so that I can wake up but my vision keeps working. My arm stretches and starts digging in the dirt, drawing something.

The sound of a door closing behind alerts me of my father's presence and I turn towards him, my heart warms, he looks exactly like I recall him, short black hair, sharp eyes and his singular scar on his left hand from where he had cut it. He'd told me that he had gotten it when he had first tried to cook. 'Blunt knives are more dangerous than sharp ones when in a kitchen because you don't expect them to hurt you.'

-Papa! Look at what I drawed!

He comes closer and smiles.

-What you've 'drawed' is very pretty Aisha, do you want to tell me what it is?

Little me shakes her head.

-No, you guess!

At my request, he sounds a bit perplexed but crouches next to my young self and examines the strange piece of art i had drawn.

-Is it...an apple?, he asks, making fun of me.

-No silly!, answers my younger self whilst sticking out my tongue, Apples are ew!

I laugh inwardly at what younger me had said, I learned fast.

-Well, it's so well drawn that my mind can't understand what you're trying to show, so ... could you maybe explain to me what your drawing is?

Little me giggles and then points at the drawing with her stick.

-It's mommy! Look, there is her dress and there is her crown!

My voice sounded full of happiness, however, papa looked full of another emotion. Back then I hadn't been able to identify it but now I could read his face as if it were an open book. Nostalgia.

-Why is mommy wearing a crown? he asks after a moment.

-People in the village often say that she was the queen of your heart, I mark a pause, Papa, where is mommy?

-She is on a trip dear, she is going back to see her family.

-Oh, the when will she come back?, I ask impatiently.

-I don't know sweetheart, but until then, we will have to be patient, okay? Now let's go back inside, I've made some soup, it's a bit burnt but it still tastes good. Hurry up, Ofsgard is waiting inside.

I nod my head vigorously and follow him inside, my hand in his.

As a child, I was a bit brighter than some other kids in the village, maybe that's why I didn't believe a single word dad had told me back then. When I asked people about my mom, each one would answer different things but all of those answers were fake, I don't know how I was so certain about it, I just was.
Eventually, I had reached an age where the barricades I had put up against the truth came down and everybody's lies were ineffective. The reason why mom wasn't there wasn't because she was on a trip or some other bullshit, the reason why I had never seen my mom was that she had lost her life giving birth to me.