Worlds of Waves and Shadows

Eight

Darkness enveloped her, like a permanent cloak. And all she could do was to keep walking. But, strangely, instead of feeling lost and alone, for the first time in her life, Sarina knew exactly who she was.

She knew what she was doing. The darkness felt natural, comfortable even. It gave her strength. And somehow, she knew everything had fallen into its place.

—————

Her heart skipped a beat. No. Several beats. In fact, it almost stopped as she beheld the scene in front of her.

The sun, now a fiery crimson, seemed to dive into the rippling waves, setting the sea that lapped at the shore, on fire. But what truly made it magnificent was the sand she stood on.

A dusty, pastel pink that reminded her of the dollhouse she had when Sarina was six as the salty breeze ruffled through her hair.

How was she here? Standing on the pink sands of Harbour Island, looking on at the most beautiful sunset she had ever seen? It was impossible. But then again, it was right there. Her dream destination was right in front of her.

"Sarina!" A soft voice breathed.

A voice, she had yearned to hear just once more, so badly that it had physically hurt.

She whirled, eyes wide, lips parted. Her heart almost leapt out of her throat as Sarina beheld the immaculate Christmas tree in the centre of her living room. Boxes of every shape and size, swathed in gift wraps lined it, yet, the house felt anything but jolly.

But when she looked over her shoulder, she could still see the setting sun and the pastel sands. How? She had no idea.

The fireplace crackled away, casting long shadows. They didn't feel comforting. No. The room felt suffocating. As if it had been enveloped by an unshakable blanket of misery.

She remembered it so well. The fake smiles everyone had put on for the sake of it and the tears they had held back so that Nana wouldn't have to see them cry. It had been Sarina's last Christmas with her.

Pain stabbed her heart as a bittersweet smile began to play across her lips. She missed the way Nana's eyes would crinkle when she laughed.

A single tear rolled down her cheek. Oh, how she missed her forgiving smile and the way it used to warm Sarina's heart.

"Honey?"

She spun on her heel again, unbound hair whipping her cheeks, baffled beyond words.

There, by the water stood her mother, looking as gorgeous as ever, platinum tresses pinned up in an intricate hairdo.

Sarina almost cried, looking at her mother's honey brown eyes, inviting her to what seemed like a long dinner table set for Christmas near by. While her father, dressed in a dinner jacket, beckoned her with an outstretched hand, waiting for her to take it.

Sarina rubbed her eyes at that.

She had never, in all of her eighteen years of existence, ever seen Mr Matthew Allens, wear a tuxedo. She had always wanted to see him in one, though.

Ralph, dressed in formals as well, hands behind his back, flashed her a crooked grin. One that made her heartache.

She chuckled. He looked like a gentleman.

"Okay. Dad, why are you wearing a dinner jacket? And mom, what's with the evening dress? Also, why is Ralph dressed like that?" She probed, utterly confused. What the hell was going on? Was she dreaming?