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- CHAVAKHIAH -The Angel of Family Relationships

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I open my eyes in a meadow full of daffodils, the radiant sun warming my skin.

This dream is rather colorful, and it feels refreshing.

I stand up on my feet, taking a moment to dust myself off and remove the petals clinging to my shorts. The scenery around me is magnificent, and I am awestruck by the beauty stretching as far as the eye can see.

This field is so vast before me, with no limits on the horizon and nowhere to take refuge from the scorching heat. I begin to feel thirsty, reminded of the importance of finding some shade or a water source to ease this unpleasant sensation.

I start walking, looking for a cooler spot, hoping this dream doesn't turn into an unexpected nightmare. Gradually, it becomes harder to move forward, and the heat shows no sign of easing. My steps grow labored, and I notice my feet sinking into the ground, making it seem as though the once-firm earth has transformed under my weight.

Lowering my gaze, I find the answer to my discomfort. What was once soil has turned into golden, fine, and warm sand. I am left speechless as the greenery that once extended endlessly has suddenly vanished, replaced by a barren desert.

The landscape is strikingly beautiful, but the heat and lack of shade weigh on me. The sky is a vivid blue with no clouds, and the sun shines intensely, making the air almost unbreathable. I feel the hot sand seeping between my toes, and each step becomes more challenging, as though the ground itself wants to hold me in this vast desert expanse.

Walking on without stopping, I no longer think about what might happen next. I only feel my body growing heavier, my vision weakening, and starting to blur. The outlines of the landscape merge, and the horizon seems to distort, as though the sand and the sky are blending into one another.

Each step feels monumental, and I wonder if I will ever find a place to rest. The heat makes me lose track of time, and hope gradually fades, leaving me uncertain about what the future holds.

- Dear little angel, do not falter; I am with you in thought.

I recognize that voice.

A ghost or some kind of mist appears before me, making me question whether what I see is merely a mirage. I stop for a moment, my heart racing, and scrutinize this blurry silhouette. My mind is foggy, and I wonder if I am truly alone in this unsettling landscape.

- My dear, why are you exhausting yourself like this? Don't you know this is all happening in your mind?

- Aéphyra, is that you? I can't move forward anymore. Help me.

- I repeat, this is all happening in your mind. Think hard about another place you've visited before, and it will appear.

I try to concentrate, imagining my room, my bed... water.

I close my eyes to visualize it more clearly, placing each object in my mind one by one. Focusing on the details, like the texture of the floor, the distinct shapes of the objects, and the smell of my room. By visualizing each element, I attempt to create a vivid picture in my head.

When should I open them? At the count of three, then. One. Two. Three.

When I reopen my eyes, I see that it worked. Everything I imagined in my head is now before me.

My bed appears in front of me, just beside the open glass door leading to the balcony. Looking at it, a memory comes back—a moment when Hayden and I jumped off together to escape, the thrill, fear, and adrenaline still vivid in my mind.

Then, the smaller details become clearer: my soft and comforting teddy bear, as big as a six-year-old child, sitting proudly in a corner of my room. My books are neatly arranged on the shelves, their colorful covers catching my eye and reminding me of the stories that once made me dream.

I stand at the entrance to my room, dressed as I was when I fell asleep, in a light tank top and black cotton shorts. The familiarity of this space wraps around me like a cocoon of memories, and I realize with gentle nostalgia that I am finally back in a place dear to my heart.

Curiosity stirs within me, and I wonder if, by finding my room, I might also find my family here. Memories of our moments together haunt me, and the thought of seeing them again fills me with hope, encouraging me to explore this familiar space.

Everything is identical to my memories, from the photos hanging along the hallway that depict our family to the creaky staircase that has kept its shrill sound. Reaching the last step, I notice something unusual.

I didn't trip. I always trip on the last step, especially when running down quickly like this. This thought immediately crosses my mind, leaving me puzzled. I turn back to take a closer look at what I might have missed, and that's when I notice a striking difference.

The step has changed—it's darker than the others, as though it has been exposed to intense heat, causing it to lose its original color. This transformation intrigues me and raises a question. What could have caused such an alteration?

Bending down to examine the step more closely, I decide to give it a gentle tap. To my surprise, it sounds hollow. This discovery further agitates my already restless mind.

- Marie, you're already up?

I can't believe it. It's her.

Recognizing that voice behind me, a wave of emotions washes over me, and tears well up in my eyes. I turn around immediately to face it, my heart pounding.

That voice—I know it so well.

- Mom, I exclaim.

I throw my arms around her, holding her so tightly that I feel all the tension and tears accumulated lately being released. It's as though, by holding her close, all the weight of the world lifts from my shoulders. Emotions overflow, and I realize how much her presence comforts me.

- Did you have another nightmare, my daughter? Why are you crying?

- Yes, Mom, I just had a bad dream.

- Alright then, come on, let's eat. I made your favorite dish.

- Lasagna! I missed it so much. Thank you, Mom.

I sit around the kitchen table. She sets the table, serves the meal with care, and then sits across from me. We start eating together, and it feels like nothing has changed.

- One-on-one, we talk about our plans for the day and share laughter. It feels like time has stopped, and every moment spent together reminds me of how precious these times are.

- Marie, what's this sand on the floor? It's even up the stairs.

- Oh, sorry! I'll clean it all up, I say with an embarrassed smile.

- I'm leaving you with the dishes. I need to head out.

- Alright, but where are you going, Mom? You didn't tell me.

- I'm going to pick up your brothers from the train station.

I look at her with a puzzled expression. My brothers? But they only visit in the summer, so why...?

- Mom, what's today's date?

She pulls out her phone and shows me: it's Thursday, July 11th.

It's the start of summer. It's one day before I meet Hayden.

- Alright, my dear, I'm off. Don't forget to do the dishes and clean up the sand.

As soon as the front door closes, I grab the broom from the small kitchen cupboard and head back to the stairs. Standing in front of them, I remember the strangeness of one particular step, its color distinct from the rest of the staircase.

I crouch down to examine it, running my hand gently over the surface. As I do, I notice that one side becomes strangely warm—almost burning if I leave my hand there too long. It's a surprising sensation, as if something is happening underneath.

I tap it lightly and lean in closer to listen to the hollow sound it makes.

- Strange. What's that noise?

For a moment, I thought I heard a faint hissing. To make sure, I press my ear against the wood and tap again. But I quickly pull my head back, unsure of what to think.

- Is there something inside?

What could possibly be in there?

- I hope it's not alive—I hate creepy-crawlies.

I remain there, hand on the step, lost in thought, trying to figure out how to remove it without causing damage. I know that if I mess this up, Mom won't be happy at all.

As I think it over, I absentmindedly tap the surface again. At that moment, something unexpected happens: the wood suddenly catches fire.

I stare in disbelief as only the top plank ignites, the flames flickering and crackling in a striking blue hue. Frozen in shock, I watch the fire consume the wood with mesmerizing intensity. Finally, once the plank is completely reduced to ash, the flames die out on their own, leaving behind a faint burnt smell and smoldering remains.

Mom is definitely going to kill me.

I lean closer, curious to see what's underneath. As I peer into the space, I spot something black at the bottom.

It moved.

It's unbelievable—how could anything survive down there in this enclosed space, with no source of food?

Unless... spiders. Oh no.

Just beneath the dark object, I also notice something golden.
I reach into the step, my hand brushing against it. It doesn't feel like a spider—it's something completely cold.

- A piece of metal, maybe?

I grab the shiny object, ignoring the black piece, but as I pull my hand out of the step, a sharp pain jolts me. Instinctively, I yank my arm back.

My heart freezes as I take in the scene: a snake is coiled around my wrist, refusing to let go, its tail flicking with agitation.

Terrified of anything creepy-crawly—and putting snakes in the same category as spiders—I shake my arm wildly, holding my breath.

Eventually, the snake loosens its grip, thanks to the force of my movements, and crashes hard against the kitchen wall. It's motionless, and so am I, staring at it without blinking. Stunned, I grab the broom and cautiously prod it, but it quickly springs back to life, slithering frantically across the kitchen floor. I chase after it, broom in hand, but it manages to dodge every swing.

- Will you just die already? I shout at the snake.

Exhausted from the chase, I decide to escalate things and grab an axe. I tiptoe closer to the snake, now trying to blend into its surroundings. It's hiding beneath the black refrigerator, its head and a bit of its tail sticking out on either side. Carefully, I position the axe directly above its head.

I let go of the handle and look away, unwilling to witness its decapitation firsthand.

A small splash, followed by the sound of the axe hitting the floor, sends a shiver down my spine.

Yuck.

When my eyes land on the scene, I see the snake, now severed in two. Its head remains still, but its body keeps writhing, making my stomach churn.

Do snakes not have blood?

As soon as the snake stops moving, it instantly transforms into a viscous puddle, releasing a nauseating stench—like something left to rot for far too long.

Well, there's the liquid, even if it's not the one I expected.

I force myself to clean up the slimy mess, pinching my nose and grimacing, trying hard not to throw up. Still, the smell manages to churn my stomach a dozen times over.

After scrubbing everything clean and putting back the furniture I'd knocked over during the snake hunt, I glance down at the two small puncture wounds on my wrist.

- How am I supposed to take care of this?

Out of the corner of my eye, a glimmer catches my attention. I look up and remember the golden object I'd dropped during my encounter with the snake.

It's a key.

- This looks oddly familiar.

Just then, I hear the front door open. On instinct, I hide the key in my hand and tuck it behind my back. My mom walks in, followed by my two brothers. They're chatting happily, but I can't help feeling nervous, my mind racing with everything that's just happened.

I wonder if they've noticed anything odd about me or if I can manage to keep my nerves hidden. Maybe I should act normal and not mention the key for now. I need to figure out what to say and how to handle all this.

- Marie! they both exclaim in unison, their voices full of joy.

- You're back already? I say, smiling at them, my hand still behind my back.

- What? Not happy to see us? Enry asks sarcastically.

- She's got that look on her face when she's hiding something. I know it all too well—I do the same thing, says Jonn.

I stay quiet and glance over at Mom, praying she doesn't notice the gaping hole in the staircase.

- MARIE! she yells.

I'm screwed.