The Cherry Wood Forest surrounded me as I ran. My legs throbbed and my short breaths came less and less frequently. I looked for a place to stop and hide, but I could feel my predator gaining on me. The thick forest was hard to maneuver in, but it proved no obstacle for my chaser. I pumped my legs until they were numb with pain. Then I came to a clearing and abruptly stopped. I needed to keep going. I couldn’t let this person kill me or my baby. Without warning I turned around only to a see a strange man push me to the ground. Looking up I found his violet eyes glaring at me. “Evangeline your time has come. Your destiny awaits you,” his malicious eyes flickered to my stomach, “Your child will be born in two days. You and Marciano will be blessed with a beautiful baby girl. You are to name her Mercelda Alison. If you don’t,” he plunged to the ground and I could feel his sharp teeth graze my delicate neck, “you will regret it.” His teeth broke into my artery.
∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
I flew up in bed and the baby kicked. I wiped my hand over my sweat drenched forehead. I looked around, 5:00 shined brightly in my eyes, the peach paint was cracked on the walls looking like the patterns you find in skin, and the bed was a complete mess from me tossing and turning. I waddled silently to the bathroom and peered into the mirror. I was surprised at what I saw, I was hideous. My eyes were tiny, my nose and lips were far too big for my face, and my hair was green and yellow and stuck out in every direction. I was never ugly. I closed my eyes knowing my husband, Marciano, probably wouldn’t like me looking like that. Before I opened my eyes I prayed I looked better than I just had. I opened them and immediately knew my prayer was answered. This time I was gorgeous. My face was amazingly symmetrical, my nose was just the right size, and my lips were full and luxurious. My eyes were a stunning blue and my hair was a light orange with soft curls that hung just above my shoulders. I blinked unwillingly and unfortunately my normal face was back again. My light brown hair hung well below my shoulders in a tangled mess, my dark green eyes were squinted trying to adjust to the brightness of the bathroom light. Maybe pregnancy was making me delusional. I shrugged and turned on the shower.
A long, hot shower did me some good. I took my time doing what needed to be done. I cleared the fogged mirror with my palm, and saw the hideous, gorgeous, than normal me. This was beginning to become an issue. I guess I could talk to my parents about this. I should talk to my dad about my dream anyways. He is studies sleeping patterns. It was embarrassing to have your dad hook up wires to your chest at a sleepover when you are nine. Then, I hit puberty and it all stopped.
I wish my husband hadn’t gone on his business trip, I miss him dearly. He always goes away, yet another person with a terrible job. My husband is a clothing designer and is always called gay by the younger generations. He could stop them if he brought me out to shows and stuff, but he said that he couldn’t and I would understand later.
I dressed in a white maternity blouse, and stretchy jeans. I began to dry my hair. After I got too tired to blow dry it anymore I brushed it through and tied it up in a pink ribbon. I cleaned up all my belongings. Marciano would be coming to get me this morning.
Tiptoeing out of my room, I began my descent down the steps when my mother appeared at the top of the steps, “Good heavens child!” she exclaimed “Evangeline! You are twenty-five you should have waited for your father or myself to help you down these steps! You never know what could happen you may just trip fall and break your neck because you were too stubborn to wait for help!”
“Ma, first of all I am fine. I can walk and climb stairs perfectly fine. It may be slow but it works. What else do you expect a pregnant woman to do? Secondly, I could have slipped with you giving me such a heart attack. I mean please warn a person if you are going to come out of nowhere like that. Third, don’t call me Evangeline. That name is such a mouthful. Call me Eve. It suits me better anyway. I mean how you would feel if dad always called you Mercia. Isn’t Merc better?”
“Poor Marciano gets to hear your huge mouth 24/7. I knew I let you marry him for some reason,” she said teasingly.
“Mom! That is mean. Where is Daddy? He always gets up before you.”
“I am here, dear,” my father, Edson, said as he came out of his room.
∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
After coffee, orange juice for me was made and pancakes were finished I told my father about my reoccurring dream and the images I was seeing. Before my father answered he and my mother stared at each other for a few minutes as if having a conversation telepathically. He sighed, “Evangeline, we love you to death, but we haven’t been completely honest with you. Everything weird you have been experiencing has been happening for one certain reason. The reoccurring dreams, the images of yourself, and don’t think we haven’t noticed how you have been piling blankets over yourself at the beginning of May.”
“But Dad, what is the reason?”
“Sweetie that is something that is going to have to wait until Marciano gets home. He should be returning in an hour or so. Merc,” my father turned to my mother, “go call Selda, Alston, and Athelston. They need to be here for this as well.”
“Edson, are you sure?”
“Merc we need to do it now.” My mother looked surprised at his decision, but did as told. I didn’t like the vibe I was getting from this situation, not one bit.
