Cursed Pool

Chapter 2. June 4th

It was 365 days since the stupid day with the Uber bus. I seemed to be drowning in the body of water again like I did in the ever so horrorfying dream of last June. I didn't believe that I was dream right away since it was quite a while ago since the dark shadowy thing was haunting me. "The fire will have your soul....." I sank under the chilling icy water.

"Evangeline." Richard's voice came out of the darkness of my comfortable bed room. That's when I awoke with a shock. I couldn't see his face clearly because of it being 3:00 AM and everything. I noticed that he must've turned off the ceiling fan. "Hey, y'know what I must have been thinking too much about?" I say through a yawn. "Yeah. The day our Perri died. It's already been a whole year." Richard said as he flipped the light switch and my cozy room glows in a blinding way. I put on my glasses that were sitting silently on the bedside table and I fluff my extremely frizzy hair. "So y'know that dream that I told you I had on June 4th? The one with the creepy ghost." Richard nodded slowly and sternly as if he knows what I will say next. "I had the same dream just a couple minutes ago." I told him quietly.
  Richard sort of leaned on my bed. He looked at me, he sighs and said "Don't worry about that. It's just a dream isn't it?"
  "Hey Richard." I said dryly as he turned to leave. "Yeah." Richard said dryer than the desert in july. I slowly climbed out of my soft bed. "Richard, I think this is some kind of warning."
"Really what do you mean?"
"What I really mean is that last year on this day I had the same dream. Our Perri died that day and I don't want anything bad to happen......" I stopped talking because Richard had a squint like he's trying to figure out what I mean. "I don't wanna leave the house or anything....." I say stiffly. "We will be fine." Richard soothed.

Richard actually left the house that day even though I told him that he probably shouldn't.
  Richard as a husband is interesting. I love him, but then I can't stand him.
  When I married him I was old, he was old too, but my hair was already greying even at thirty eight years old.
  I don't know why though. I don't think people that are thirty eight should get married. I traveled so so much as a youngish adult to find a husband from some country.  someone  that exceeded my expectations.
  When I was younger I had this fear. I was the youngest of four girls. All my older sisters were successful in love, I However was very short, and my hair was light and very frizzy. Also I was desperate for somebody tall enough to pick the apples off the tree. I also liked people that were honest and hard working that like to cuddle on the furniture.
  I met Richard in Cuba when we were on our mid thirties. Just like me, he liked his bananas with a tint of green and he had this big beautiful garden. He was a hair dresser and I was a fashion critic/designer so we went well together.
  The thing I HATE about Richard though is that he doesn't care about dreams.  If I have a sweet dream, or a ugly nightmare, he acts like it's nothing at all. I studied dreams in high school temporarily and I know that when they repeat it's a bad sign. Drowning in an unknown body of water is a big one when it comes to repetitive dreams.

After putting on my Saturday dress I stayed at home, I don't want to go out. Not only was it raining cats and dogs, it was also raining tree branches. I looked out through the kitchen window while carefully eating my egg salad.  I was almost too scared to eat my egg salad, as far as I know I can choke and die while I'm doing so.

Every step I took while cleaning the dishes, doing the laundry and knitting in my purple rocking chair, I did it gradually. I am a seventy year old woman who doesn't want to die today.

CRASH!!!!!! Came a noise from the outside. The noise scared me so bad that I almost stabbed myself with my sewing needle while stitching a left mitten. I got up suspiciously and in the living room I saw a massive tree that fell dramatically into the roof and most of my perfectly good living room collapsed. It crashed on my good sofa, my spare blankets and my iron table. OH GOD NO! NOT THE IRON TABLE! I thought. Well, that was my perfectly good little Oakland California house now destroyed. Yep. I called it. That dream is dark and evil and now I have to avoid sleeping forever. ~~~~~~~~