Heartstrings

1 - Esmeralda

Lightning splintered the pitch-black sky. Each strike is like a glare from a camera capturing an escalating distress in each shot. First shutter: rain drew thick blurs on car windows. Second shutter: two shadows struggling in the front seat. Third shutter: shadow in the passenger seat taking over the wheel. Fourth shutter: The car veered sharply from the road. Fifth shutter: the bluff comes into view. Last shutter: woman sinking into cold water as darkness took over.

Claire knew it was one of her vivid dreams again. One she had dreamt a thousand times. Yet her heart hammered so hard like the first time she dreamed it. Her limbs were noodles, her head gyrating as the car spun. Then spin again. Over and over until a scream erupted from her throat as the windshield broke into clamorous shatters.

Then there was water.

Icy cold.

So scathing.

She flailed her arms desperately. Water was consuming her. Darkness was devouring her. There was no way out.

And then there was a voice. Although muffled and distant, she hears it pulling her out of the dream. Hands clasped her shoulders and shook her.

Claire bolted awake.

"Sweetie, are you okay?"

She fisted the sheets. Despite knowing it was just a dream, she finds herself gasping for air. Her top was soaked, and her hair was sticking to her cheek. Her heart was pounding so hard that it was almost jumping out of her chest.

A hand rubbed her arm soothingly until her breathing settled into a calm rhythm. Fingers cleared her face from the drenched tendrils of her spot-black hair. "Jesus, you scare me to death every single time. Are you okay?"

Claire blinked rapidly, realizing she had been crying too. She nods her reply, not trusting her voice to make it back just yet.

Charlie reached over her nightstand and then offered her a glass of water. "Here."

She wrapped her hand around the glass, only taking a sip. That's the only amount she was capable of taking after having too much water in her dreams. Too much. She folded her legs and pressed her knees to her chest. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up."

"It's okay. I wasn't sleeping anyway. I was setting up another account on that dating site I told you about yesterday." He caressed her hair with the lightness and comfort of a mother's touch. In a way, it was.

Claire hadn't known her mother. She died days after she was born. Her grandmother raised her – with a little help from the lovely couple next door whose son became a close friend to her. In fact, they were practically siblings.

Charlie didn't think she was cuckoo when he found out about the dreams she was having. Claire didn't think he was a weirdo when he came out as gay. They shared so many secrets.

His eyes roamed her face. "Is it the woods again?"

She returns the glass of water to her nightstand. "No. Drowning."

"Oh, you're in that part already?"

She nods, fully recovering from her panicked state. "At least the worst part is over."

Her dreams are like pages of a book. One page a night until she gets to the last. Some pages were clear; some were blurred. Others are just fragments that she never really understood.

When she was a kid, however, the dreams were only sweet and wholesome. It was dreams of vast daffodil fields. Of mornings being kissed awake by a father she never met in waking life. Of coming home from school and running into the fields. Of nights when she was brushing a beautiful woman's dark hair she called "mommy" in her sleep.

As a little girl without both parents, the dreams were wonderful. Especially when they go up their special place up the hill past the daffodils and have a picnic under the shade of a small oak tree. Her father would chase her around, giving her tickles when he finally caught her.

Then she goes home to the whinny of horses in their corrals, the soft crackles of orange grooves' branches, and the departing voices of her father's farmers.

Her mother will lay her down on the bed and hum a song she remembers so well. Her mommy's beautiful charcoal hair will cascade past her shoulders, her green eyes sparkle with the song, and freckles on her cheek will stand out along with a smile as she leans to her ear and whispers, "Good night, my lovely Esmeralda."

Happy Halloween! and welcome to my short story. Enjoy the ride!