by Kaitlyn Hoyt
IT IS NIGHTTIME. FIREFLIES LIGHT up the night sky, and the moon casts looming shadows across the backyard. The house awakens from its daily slumber. The humming of electronics, creaking of floorboards, and water running through the pipes can be heard. Laughter emanates from the second floor. Tom is sitting in the living room flipping through a magazine, while Claire is in the kitchen washing the dishes. The digital clock on the wall above the sink reads 8:45 p.m.
I am an invisible third party in this vision. Nothing is happening though. What am I supposed to see? I look around trying to spot anything out of the ordinary. Everything looks the same. I don’t understand.
Walking to the large sliding glass door, I peer outside. The grass in the yard is still burned in the spot where I blew up the rock earlier. Seeing movement along the tree line, I draw my eyes over there. Underneath the cover of the trees, two men are talking, a dagger gleaming in the hand of one of them. Squinting, I try to look at who it is. Something about this vision has to be important. I need to remember every detail. I blink, and suddenly, one of the men disappears.
Just like that, he’s gone. I frantically search the yard for him, but he is nowhere to be seen. The sound of glass breaking diverts my attention from the yard back to the kitchen.
The mysterious man is standing behind Claire. She is gasping for breath—her body going limp in his arms as the dagger protrudes from her side. Tom jumps off of the couch, and shouts at the man. Before he can reach him, he disappears again. Tom reaches out and grabs Claire as she starts falling to the ground.
“Logan! Logan!”
Claire coughs up blood, and her already sporadic breathing begins to slow. Tom rocks her body in his arms, putting pressure on the wound. Her body convulses once before going limp.