WeatherMaker Hearts Desire Prologue
Chapter 18: The Dream

This day was a rare day. It was a religious holiday that celebrated the first rays of sunlight that shone in the sky after an eighty year long winter. The holy stories tell of the god Ezla, imprisoning the goddess Micro for eighty years beneath the rocky earth in a great cavern. He did this because he was madly in love with her, and wanted her for himself. Without the warmth in the world that Micro created, everything grew cold. When at last she was freed eighty years later, a great party was held to celebrate her return. And this was the holiday many people rejoiced in.

But not Farrell.

It was a precious celebration for many, and one that most would see only once in their lifetime. But Farrell cared little for such things nowadays. There was once a time he would have rejoiced in such an occasion, alongside everyone else. There was once a time where he would have spent a day like today celebrating and laughing with his family.

But things had changed.

He stayed at home that evening, alone as he slept. The sky outside was lit up with fireworks, but Farrell cared not for them. He did not see the bright flashes of light, nor hear their bangs.

Now Farrell slept deeply, and he dreamed.

He was walking through woodland, a forest he recognised. It was the one near his home, the one he had once spend so much time wandering with Ramana, when she was alive.

Everything was still. The low sun shone through the columns of the trees, casting long shadows upon the forest floor.

Everything was quiet, apart from his own footsteps as Farrell walked forwards. There was not a bird to be heard, nor the sound of wind, nor the sound of any flowing water, despite there being a stream nearby. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FindNʘᴠᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

He saw a figure in the woods, standing with her back to him; a mature female figure, with long cascading black hair that reached to the bottom of her back.

Farrell approached her, reaching a hand out to touch her shoulder.

‘Ramana.’

He turned her around to see her face; then let out a slight gasp of surprise, stepping back.

It wasn’t Ramana, but someone who looked very similar, with a younger face. It was perhaps……what his daughter might have looked like.

The figure spoke directly to him.

‘I am still alive’ she breathed. ‘Find me….’

Farrell opened his eyes.

He threw the sheets back, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He leant with his elbows on his knees, face in his hands as he rubbed his eyes wearily. Then he paused as his mind began to wake, the memories slowly coming back to him.

That dream….

He lowered his hands slowly, and he straightened up.

That young woman….it looked so much like what his daughter might have looked like….if she was still alive….

‘Find me….’

His stomach began to slowly tighten as exciting thoughts crept into his mind.

Was that dream real? Was it perhaps a premonition?

‘What if she’s still alive?’ Farrell mumbled to himself.

What is this that I’m feeling? Farrell thought. I’ve never felt this way before.

And then he suddenly realised something, something he had forgotten, that had stayed beneath the surface of his conscious thought for twelve years, something from that terrible day when he lost both his beloved wife and child.

Ramana’s body had been buried. But Amaia’s had never been found.

Farrell sat there on his bed. Thinking.

What if she is still alive? Could it be true? After all this time?

He rose from his bed; wild thoughts of possibility were running through his mind, so fresh and exciting when he first woke, now they began to fade as he dressed.

By the time he went downstairs to prepare his breakfast, they were gone altogether.

The rest of that day was perfectly normal.

That night, Farrell dreamed again, and it was the same dream as the one he had the night before.

It was a dream of her. And again. She said the same thing.

’I am still alive. ‘Find me….’

Farrell woke that morning, not with the same feeling of excitement as he had experience the morning before, but a strange feeling he couldn’t describe, a foreign and uneasy feeling. But once again, as he had the morning before, his strange feelings ebbed away, and by the time he finished his breakfast, they were gone altogether.

After that he left his house, looking for something to occupy him.

That night he dreamed again. And the night after that. And the one after that.

‘Find me….’

‘Find me….’

‘Find me….’

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