The Daughter of Hecate

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There is nothing in this world Ms. Melissa Leigh wanted more than a child. A baby born to her out of her blood and love.

Melissa Leigh was known to be a very maternal and respectable woman to anyone who had met  her. She was pretty, with a round loving face, fair skin, deep blue eyes, and rich caramel colored hair that fell almost to her waist. Her modest taste had made her seem older than she was but her body and heart were still full of youthful energy.

She lived a knowingly average life growing up. Two parents, a few siblings and a nice house in Richmond, Virginia. Growing up she always seemed to be the outgoing child. The one who had an easy time making friends, and always found the easiest ways to have fun. She was practically beaming with happiness at all times. The one thing that Melissa Leigh was harshly dealt was the curse of infertility.

Ms. Leigh resided in a small New York City apartment. She worked at a local non-profit caring for the homeless in her surrounding area. She lived alone and felt content with her life, even without the family she'd always yearned for.

On August 9, 1988 Melissa Leigh was following her daily routine. The day was hot and as she walked into her apartment building she felt the beads of sweat building on her forehead. Coming home from work she immediately jumped in the shower to rinse the sweat and work of the day off of her. Cooking dinner for herself and making sure to make extra for the next day's lunch after her shower comforted her, it was a daily ritual of sorts. Melissa loved the smell of her homemade garlic bread wafting throughout her kitchen. Cooking brought a sense of meditation to her in the evenings, a type of nostalgia from her childhood. Her kitchen was small really only consisting of an oven, sink, microwave, and a small amount of counter space. Some would think that it was too small and cheap but Melissa was just thankful to have the opportunity to cook for herself in the evenings. She took a seat at her small brown kitchen table with a plate of breaded chicken and her signature hot dog bun garlic bread in hand. She always made sure to take the time to relax and reflect on her day. As she sat there in the small gray painted room she did not notice the traffic outside or the TV blaring in her upstairs neighbors apartment, she felt the peace in what the day had brought her. That day especially she felt lucky to have the opportunity to work in the field she did. The people she saw and helped feed on a daily basis had become a sort of family to her in the past years she had worked with them. Everyday she felt the maternal bone in her body being put to work. It was the closest feeling to motherhood she had ever received in her life.

That night she went to bed early, the beginnings of a migraine clouding her vision. As she climbed into bed and laid her head on the pillow she easily drifted into a dream.

The dream was vivid and at first the scene was overwhelmingly quiet, just a light drizzle on a residential street somewhere she didn't recognize. Then she heard it. The sounds of screams and hundreds of feet hitting the pavement. She could tell they were running. But she could not yet tell what they were running from. Still, the panic in her heart made it clear that you don't need to know every detail to know when your life is in danger. Human instinct took over. Without thinking her feet started hitting the pavement as fast as her body could muster, strides getting larger as her pulse quickened. She was ahead of the crowd, and still, she could feel the vibrations of their feet on her own. The buildings and streets were not familiar to her so she just followed her intuition, feeling the crowds vibrations and trying to stay alive at all costs.

The street then became fuzzy and she could feel her place and surroundings changing, moving on to the next scene.

The rain and winds had clearly picked up and it was obvious this was no ordinary storm. The shingles on roofs were suddenly whipping off of their once stoic place, and the street was littered with anything small enough to be blown out of stores, homes, and trash cans. She could no longer hear the screams or the beat of feet over the whistling wind in her ears, but somehow she could sense the presence of the people around her. She could feel their fear in her own pulse. The air smelled of a storm, a bad one, one that would cause thousands to be affected and unbelievable damage.