Into the Unknown

Melissa

Together, we're baking in the kitchen, making apple pies. The wonderful aroma blended of freshly sliced apples and cinnamon fill the entire house, creating a cheerful atmosphere. Shelby stands beside me on her stool with her big eyes and wild child smile at an innocent age of six years. Her long, blonde hair trails down her shoulders and back and its wavy strands are knotted and tangled from a long day of indoor house-play. The fall stormy weather keeps us indoors, making mother-and-daughter time a more special thing. Matthew is out working, so the entire house is left alone for the two of us girls.

One pie is baking in the oven turning the sugared dough golden, another on the counter still in the mixing process. Cinnamon dusts the counter and grains of sugar can be felt if a hand were to slide across the granite surface.

"Mother, is the pie done yet?" Shelby asks longingly, wanting to take a slice already.

I pull a strand of her hair away from her face. "Not quite yet, sweetie. About another ten minutes, I'd say." Peeking into the oven, I see the pie has almost fully matured.

"Can you sing while we wait? Everything goes faster when you sing, you know that's true. Maybe that's why it's taking so long to cook," Shelby tells me.

Rolling my eyes, I think to myself that Shelby has the strangest ideas. "What would you like me to sing, my dear?"

Shelby shrugs her shoulders in response, unsure of what she wants me to sing. Before I get the chance to speak, I hear the front doorknob rattling. The deadbolt turns and Matthew makes an entrance. "Daddy!" Shelby yells excitedly as she runs up to her father, treating him with a warm, daughterly hug. Her curls flow with every movement she makes.

I grab a towel, wipe my hands free of flour and apple juice, and then go greet my husband. "I thought we weren't expecting you until later this afternoon," I say questioningly as I wrap my hands into his and I give him a slight kiss on his cheek.

"They let me off early today. This bad weather we've been having lately doesn't go well with landscape work. Chris said we'll probably get the next week off because of the rain." He takes a sniff of the air around him, realizing the sweet scent. "What are you two making?" he asks Shelby curiously, raising an eyebrow.

"We're making pies," Shelby exclaims while raising her arms. "Come on dad, I'll show you."

"I'll be right there in a moment. Let me get changed out of my work clothes first."

"Ugh, well hurry up," is her impatient reply.

I take Shelby by the hand and bring her back into the kitchen. Her little hand is fully enveloped in mine. The palm of her tender grasp is soft and warm, yet it's a tight grip full of lively energy. "Your father will be right back, don't worry."

To pass the time, I start humming some random notes and yet they somehow all fit together quite neatly. Normally, I would never be able to create something so fine, but the tune I hum now is something more beautiful than I've ever thought of before. Now, if Shelby's words were true, this would be the time where her words would be used as prophecy. When she made the remark earlier, stating that singing makes time go by in a tick, well, let's just say that's what happened. Instead of waiting on the first pie, time has passed so much that now the second pie has already finished baking and it's setting nicely on the cooling rack, still steaming and bubbling.

What just happened? I ask myself. I turn to the living room and see Shelby and Matthew sitting on the couch, curled up together with her on his lap while a blanket is atop the two of them. He's reading aloud to her a book – Hatchet, which is one of Matthew's personal favorites. He always tells me he's wondered what it'd be like to be left alone in the wilderness like that; how there would be so much adventure and many stories to tell in the years to come after the embarking journey.

Matthew looks up at me, seeing my worried look. "Are you alright, love?"

Closing my eyes for a second, I'm not quite sure. To cover up my worries, I say "Yeah, of course. I'm okay."

I walk back to my bedroom and plop myself onto the bed. Slowly, I let myself fall onto the comfort my pillow. I close my eyes, trying to forget the strangeness of what had happened and I fall into the depths of sleep.

I wake up, except I'm much older now. In fact, I've aged. But then I have the sudden realization – it was only a dream. My stomach goes heavy and I start filling myself with guilt. "Oh Melissa, how could you do that to yourself?" I ask out loud. Frustrated, alone, and with nowhere to go in the middle of the night, I get up and go make myself some tea, hoping it'll help calm me down. Even then, simply walking into the kitchen becomes a more difficult thing. Flashes of the dream come flowing every now and then. Vivid memories of Shelby and I together in the kitchen making all sorts of delicious foods feel as if they're coming back to life. The dining table, usually set for two, somehow looks as if it's now set for three. Yet, Shelby's set is still settled on its end, dusty and unused. But the third set is something has hasn't been there for years.

"Matthew . . ." I whisper to myself.

All of a sudden my body goes cold and I start to shake. Quietly, as if somebody were to break in, I grab the object nearest to me. Ironically, it's my wooden rolling pin; the same one Shelby and I used in my dream. Gripped tightly in my hands, I hold the rolling pin as if it were a baseball bat, ready for any intruders that come my way. Hesitantly, I make my way around the hollowness of the house, checking every nook and cranny where a stranger could conceal themselves. Every step I take leads me one step closer to what's creating my fear. In the dead of night, my living spaces look completely different. A new eerie feeling invades what normally feels comforting. Home objects now look creepy with unfamiliarity, different shades of greys and some completely black. I don't dare turn on any lights, so as to spook whomever is invading my home. I start with the laundry room first, then the bathroom, then the kitchen and living room, leaving Shelby's room for last. Not noticing it before when I left my bedroom to make tea, I realize her door is open just a crack, barely noticeable to anybody that wouldn't live here. Preparing myself for whoever is inside, I bring my rolling pin up closer to the height of my shoulders. As I open the door quickly, I wince from the squeaking sound the hinges make. Reopening my eyes after the door is finally open all the way, I realize her room is pitch black. Completely empty. Well, guess it was just my imagination, I think to myself. But, as I scan across her room, I see there's a card left on her bed; one that was not around when I had entered her room the other day.

"That wasn't there before."

Picking up the envelope, I see there's nothing labeled on the outside indicating who it's from. I pull the card out from the safety of its envelope and I open it up. All it says in the center of the card is: I hope you can forgive me.