Awakened Dreams

Chapter 1

She stood over the bathroom sink, her long brown hair cascaded down her back, almost always secured in a ponytail with her special hair band. The hair band had been her constant companion since childhood. As she was tying her hair, she remembered the days when her mother would gently gather her unruly locks, attempting to create a perfect ponytail while she impatiently squirmed on a chair, yearning to run outside. 

In those moments, her mother's voice, both calm and loving, yet filled with gentle authority, would call her name - "Emily." Even though she couldn't see her mother's eyes, she could feel the penetrating gaze, that well-known look that required no words. It was a look that conveyed understanding and expectation, a look that halted her restlessness in its tracks. In the unspoken language between mother and daughter, a single glance was enough to tame her fidgeting spirit. In the memory's canvas, she could almost feel the soft touch of her mother's hands, weaving the hair band into place. It was more than just a simple accessory; it was a tangible link to her childhood, a symbol of the love and care of a mother.

Emily took a deep breath and looked in the mirror. Her eyes, the shade of vibrant emeralds, held a depth that seemed to draw you into the very essence of her soul. They bore an uncanny resemblance to her mother's, as did her high cheekbones and her small, rosy lips. Indeed, at a glance, the resemblance between mother and daughter was striking. From the cascading tresses of long brown hair to the mesmerizing green eyes, their physical connection was undeniable. Even the subtle gesture of squeezed lips when deep in thought echoed the familiar mannerism she had inherited from her mother. But beneath the mirror image of her mother's beauty, she embodied the spirit of her father, a legacy of kindness and patience. Amongst all the similarities to her mother, there was one part of her that was passed down from her father - her nose. The slightly crooked feature, once a source of discomfort, had become a cherished reminder of her beloved dad.

As she stood before the bathroom sink in the hushed stillness of the morning, her reflection gazed back at her with a quiet intensity. All of a sudden, a weight of emotions bore down upon her, threatening to spill over. With a trembling hand, she turned on the faucet, releasing a torrent of water and as the water flowed, so did her tears, as if the simple act of releasing the faucet unlocked the floodgates of her soul. A solitary tear slipped down her cheek. With a quick brush of her hand, she wiped the tear away, a resolute gesture to conceal the vulnerability that threatened to unravel her composure. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself for the day ahead and said in a whispered and trembling, yet decisive voice: „You got this. "– exactly as her mother taught her to do when life became too much.

Four years prior, on this day, after years of struggle, she lost her father to cancer, forever altering her world. It was a time when she started to withdraw. She felt the sadness all around her, as if the darkness of her mourning had seeped into her very bones. A tender soul seeking solace, she embraced the quiet and solitude. She was a shy spirit, unaccustomed to the spotlight's glare. Being the centre of attention made her uneasy, preferring instead the gentle company of children and the graceful companionship of her horses. In the presence of these pure souls, she felt an unspoken connection, a shared language of unfiltered joy and innocence that transcended words. After her father's passing, this aspect of her personality grew ever more pronounced. She spent much of her time in solitude, her mother often away on missions, leaving her, an only child, to navigate the corridors of life alone. And so, she found solace in the written word, seeking refuge between the pages of books.