The area was... dark. Not pitch-black, but dark enough that my eyes had to strain to see properly. White reflections off of metal in front of me were the only highlights in the frigid darkness. The wind howled, snow stinging my skin as it was caught in the air current and blown violently towards me. However, I was not cold. I wasn't warm, really, either. Just somewhere in between.
The screaming wind was almost like static with the snow, sharp static that stabbed at me. I never flinched away. I didn't bury my face in my scarf, which I was surprised didn't catch itself in the tornado of wind. I didn't bury myself in my coat to escape the ice. I just watched the playground in front of me, a hint of a smile on my face.
There they were. Tristan was on the swings, silently swaying back and forth, unbothered by the wind. Marina was playing by the water of a pond just in my view, also without a word. Or maybe they were both speaking, I just couldn't hear. She didn't seem to mind that it must be below freezing right now. She looked as healthy as she could be, even when she should be frozen solid by the cold and the ice. So I didn't stop her. I knew Taiga was here, too. I didn't see him, but I felt that he was there, near, unharmed.
Unlike I'd previously thought, the wind was as violent as usual. Nothing's wrong, nothing at all. Everything is as it should be, as it normally is. Nothing is wrong, nothing at all.
I didn't know why this dream brought me such peace. It shouldn't. The storm is howling, swirling, violently jerking around as if pulled on a string by an uncoordinated hand. It hurt, almost. It must be the presence of my children. Yes, them. They were what made this such a nice dream. I loved it. I loved them. They were all I wanted in my life.
But they were taken from me, much too soon. I sighed, the thought bringing me sadness. My smile returned shortly. But they're here. I can see them here, and watch them all play like I've always wanted to. Just me and them, no one to step in and take them again.
That blissful feeling returned as I reassured myself, and I returned to watching the children play.
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I'll let y'all figure out how Tristan and Marina died. Note, it will be revealed later on... :)
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Filicide
HorrorFilicide /ˈfiləˌsīd/ (n) : the killing of one's son or daughter. - It's an odd, but welcome dream he always has. Sitting on the bench in the freezing snow, but feeling no cold, no warmth. The children would play, swing, swim, and... whatever the thi...
