Beyond the moon - 1 : Dreams

3 - THE DECISION

 After the burial, my mother didn't leave her room. She was so traumatized by this tragedy that she must certainly keep in mind, the picture of my father's bloody body.

The circumstances of the "accident" had still not been fully elucidated. The police also suspected the work of a wild beast because the wounds found on my father related to bites and scratches made by an animal of impressive stature and strength. But the police hadn't found anything that closely resembled this animal in the area. Moreover, no disappearance was reported in zoos in the region.

Despite repeated visits by the psychiatrist, my mother couldn't come back. She had imprisoned herself between four walls, barely fed, and spoke to me no more. Her silence was unbearable.

I hadn't been to high school for weeks. I couldn't see my friends anymore. I didn't even take their calls anymore. The mail piled on the table: bills ..., reminders from the bank ..., letters of condolence ...

My mother had no energy to take care of the house. After the departure of Aunt Emma, there was no one left to manage the administrative part. So, I decided to take things in hand. From the top of my seventeen years, it was difficult for me to lead a home, even temporarily. But I could count on Helen and Roland, if I couldn't manage. One of the bank's letters didn't announce good news. We were uncovered. I knew our finances weren't the most cheerful before my father's death, but here we went straight into the wall. It was necessary to find a solution as soon as possible.

During our conversation, that famous afternoon, my mother had told me of their intention to sell the house. This hypothesis could allow us to repay the debts, but where would we go next? Would we have the courage to leave all these memories in this house and especially those shared with my father?

According to my aunt, the best thing would be to start all over again, to redo our life elsewhere, to leave our memories and to recreate new ones. Oh! There was no question of forgetting them, of simply putting them in a corner of our head and building a new life. Only, my mother was not ready to abandon everything now. Her suffering did not fade. There was no improvement and she was comforting herself in her silence.

The psychiatrist introduced me to a social worker to manage the daily life. His help relieved me in our administrative procedures. Unfortunately, the problem of the bank was still not resolved, far from it. The bailiffs wouldn't delay landing at this rate. I had to discuss it with my mother.

I went to his room.

On entering, the room, which was usually very sunny, had been very dark for several weeks. The curtains were drawn, the windows hadn't been open for days, and my mother lay in bed all day long.

"Mom," I began, "we need to discuss the sale of the house. Do you remember, we already talked about it? I think we really need to consider it now. Our financial situation is rather precarious. That's the only solution, mom. (No reaction.) Mom, can you hear me? Mom? I beg you mom, listen to me! I can't take decisions for you. You have to help me there, please. I know it's not easy for you, but I can't do it alone. I need you, mom. (A few minutes passed, but still nothing.) I will try to learn as much as possible and you will only have to choose what suits you. I'm letting you rest. See you later."

I closed the door of his room. Once again, I didn't get anything from her. Not even a word, nor a maternal gesture or a smile. Nothing. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't find the strength to fight anymore, but I had to stay good.

I must have been more tired than I thought, because sleep made me a traitor.

I found myself in dark woods. Cries haunted the place and a familiar silhouette slid past me. I had trouble recognizing it immediately, but it was my father's. He would run through the trees, looking constantly behind him. He was trying to escape the man chasing him, wearing black pants and a long-sleeved gray sweatshirt.

"Dad!" I yelled.

But he didn't hear me and continued to sink into the depths of the woods. I didn't see him anymore.

I had to move. I knew that if I stopped looking for it, it was over, I will never see it again. I advanced. I entered these dark woods at incredible speed in search of my father. I made a big leap, raising my knees high. My enthusiasm seemed to take me on an incredible length. I turned around to assess and appreciate the impressive distance of my jump.

In the distance, another great dark mass, silent as a shadow, seemed to follow me. Maybe I was fast in my dream, but the creature that was chasing me was even more so. She passed over me, in a jump several meters high. It was a wolf. A huge, huge wolf! A frightening noise escaped his mouth, spreading like an echo through the woods. He didn't seem to notice me, running in the same direction as me.

Suddenly, without understanding why, the scene unfolding before me froze. The wind had just stopped. It hadn't faded gradually, but in one fell swoop. A heavy silence fell, as if someone had cut the sound.

I slowly approached the wolf and examined him. His snout turned up revealing his sharpened canines. The bottom of his huge eyes was an unusual walleye. His hair was long and brown. I never thought a wolf could be that big. Then I ran to my father, motionless, chased by this unknown figure. She was tearing a part of his shirt, the hand frozen, still holding the piece.

Suddenly, a sound rose from the depths. A second dark form emerged from behind a tree and approached in my direction. She seemed gray and fuzzy. A multitude of emotions crossed me. At first I was surprised, because I didn't expect to have company in such a situation, where time seemed to be stopped, and where I was the only one to be able to move. But fear took over. Although I couldn't distinguish her face, the second figure was guttural. As she passed me, she didn't pay me any attention either. She threw herself at my father, motionless, helpless, then stomped on him, scratching him and biting his neck in a fraction of a second. The scene was so fast in my eyes that I saw only a few fragments. Then this figure returned to its original position, behind the tree. I approached my father and kept a certain distance at the sight of the blood that was ready to spring out of him.

"Oh no! Dad!" I exclaimed, carrying my hands in front of my mouth.

Then, in a flash, the sound reappeared and my father tried to resume his race, but the wolf made a gigantic leap over the figure and carried away, in his huge mouth, my bleeding father, into the depths of the woods.

I jumped into my bed, tears streaming down my cheeks, and took a deep breath.

"Nothing but a nightmare," I convinced myself.

But those words didn't give me any comfort. Adrenaline spread through my veins. All this seemed to me only too real. But usually my dreams lacked precision.

I tried somehow to go back to sleep for the remaining two hours before the alarm clock rang, but to no avail.

The days passed and my school future began to seriously worry me. I had to find a solution before I passed my French exams for my baccalaureate.

After much thought, I finally made my decision, but to learn more and have answers to my questions, I had to make an appointment with someone who could enlighten me: the headmaster.

After getting an interview, we agreed that I redoubled my Première S without doing the end of year exams given that the number of lessons I had missed. Of course, all that depended only on the advice of my teachers that will be given to the class council, three days later. And about a possible move, the headmaster would send my school record to my new high school.