Beneath The Orange Sunset ✔️

40

~40~

ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠɪɴɢ ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀʏ 
ғᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sᴏɴ
ᴀʟʙᴇʀᴛᴇ ʟᴀᴄʀᴏɪx ᴊʀ. 
1962 - 2017
55 ʏᴇᴀʀs ᴏʟᴅ 

Maxime Lacroix stared at the words written boldly in ashes. He looked around and realised he was alone in the darkly place.

The cemetery was deserted. A mild gloomy wind grazed the area. The atmosphere was eerie and chilling. Maxime sunk to his knees wearily and placed a bunch of white tulips flower beside the tombstone. There was no words to express what he felt. He just stared at midair - his mind blank, his eyes glistening by the moment.

He had no idea how long he knelt but his heart thumped when a hand rested on his shoulder. For a moment he thought it was Samuel. He breathed silently and wiped his eyes.

He managed to pull himself to a standing position. Slowly he turned around...

"Samuel?" The name had barely escaped his mouth when the full figure of the man standing before him materialised. His eyes widened in shock.

It wasn't Samuel.

Maxime woke from a deep sleep. He could hardly move his arms and legs.

A soft music playing in the background hit his ears as he stirred awake. Maxime recognised the singer's voice as Bruno Le Forrester, a popular French artist. His records was among his father's music collection when he was a kid.

His head ached as he roused himself to his feet. A sharp pain hit his sternum and he stooped for some seconds until it subsided. He picked his phone and swiped the screen. It was 10.10pm. There was a missed call notification on the screen.

Who could have called him?

He scrolled up to the call log. It was an unknown number. Maxime sighed. It must be from those phishing advert companies.

Or was it someone else?

He thought about the strange dream he had. He couldn't make out the features of the stranger standing beside him. This was the first time he was having a lucid dream since he left his house. He didn't feel overwhelmed anymore, at least he wasn't afraid of Emile suddenly appearing to poison his drink.

He rubbed his shoulders feeling the heaviness of the man's hand on him. It felt rather spooky.

But who could he be?

The pain returned. This time he felt hot liquid rise to his throat and when he swallowed it burned his oesophagus.

What was wrong now?

Did he eat something to trigger a reaction somewhere?

He had always reassured Samuel that he was fine, totally. There was absolutely nothing to worry about - as long as he got his sight back, what else could be daunting except for minor headaches and cramps.

Standing by the doorway leading to the small sitting room, he saw Samuel lounging on the sofa very busy on Joelene's laptop. He was so engrossed in whatever he was doing that he hardly noticed Maxime walk in and stood behind him.