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TONY
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Tony hadn't heard his mother's voice in decades but as soon as he had heard it, he knew it was her. He didn't want to close his eyes, afraid when he did she would vanish. It was warm where he stood, brown grass and a tall, furnished cottage standing far away. The sun beat down on him, not harsh yet not soft. He immediately knew where this was.
The Preece's farm. The porch swing was moving with a soft creak with the breeze and he spotted two figures hunched against one another. He looked back to the sprawling meadow, watching his mother intently. She was just as he remembered her before the tragic crash, in her modest dress and her hair pinned to an updo at her nape.
'Tony, dear,' she smiled, the same form she always did. 'My brilliant, brave boy.'
Unreal. Not brave. Dead.
Tony didn't say anything. He knew it was a dream; he wasn't going to hope for something that was going to go missing in a split second. Expectations were zeroed in him.
'Say something,' she implored, 'please.'
It was foresight. It was a triggering concept in his head. It wasn't real. He tried to convince himself. All that vanished when she reached to graze his arm gently and he felt it. What he said next was forgotten in an instinctive sob.
Lost. Hopeless. Gone.
'You're not real,' he sniffed, 'you're not.'
The sounds of laughter grew more resonant, building in zeal as he tried to walk away from her. Trying to propel himself away from the fiction his mind was creating. Locating the sounds that sounded more genuine. He speed-walked towards the house, making out the two figures - one small and one tall.
Who?
The more he walked, the less close he got. He hadn't gotten anywhere near them. He wanted to pull the hair out of his roots in irritation, picking up speed this time and exerting utmost pressure.
'Hey!' He yelled. 'Over here!'
He halted in his steps when a little girl jumped off the swing and ran down the steps. He could make out her hair, brown ringlets that fell to her ears and tinkling laughter leaving her. A woman, her mother he recognized, ran behind her as if trying to catch her. She didn't hear him close in on them, continuing to play a game of tag with the girl. The girl he realized as his daughter, Margo.
