• Erin Gilman

Book 001: Day 015

~ Chapter Two ~

Noah should have been at peace but something was wrong. He was sitting in front of the fireplace in the chair reserved for his father, with one of the heavy quilts his mother had made over his knees and feet. Without looking he knew his mother was in the chair next to him holding a small white mug of coffee, drinking it slowly, as she stared into the fireplace. The cabin was quiet as it always was late at night with only the popping of the wood in the fireplace breaking the silence. Noah had been in this place, and in this exact situation more times than he could remember, but this time something was different, something was wrong.

Noah looked over at his mother, who had red curly hair that flowed over her shoulders when she let it down, which only happened at night when all the work for the day had been completed. Even though Noah had never met anyone other than his parents, he had plenty of pictures in his school books and knew that his mother would be considered pretty. To him she was everything.

She noticed that he was looking at her and she smiled at him as she reached over held her son's hand for a brief moment. Neither spoke but simply sat with each other enjoying the silence of each other's company.

Noah looked back at his mother who was now watching him with some concern. She started to speak but Noah grabbed her hand tightly almost as if any sound would trigger the unknown trap. The feeling that something was about to happen continued to grow and evolve inside of his mind until he felt out of control. A scream began to grow from within the core of his being as he began kicking at the blanket covering his feet in an effort to escape.

The horror hit Noah like the air from a furnace. The room was instantly engulfed in flames. His mother sitting next to him looking as concerned as she had been the moment before even as she too began to burn. Noah tried to pull his hand back from her but she would not let him go and the fire began to creep up his arm...

Noah sat up in bed with the image of his mother's finely sculpted features melting under the white-hot intense heat of the flames. Looking around the room he saw he was no longer in the cabin, but the same painfully sterile white room he had woken up in every day for the last two weeks. Just as he had done every morning after waking up from the nightmares, Noah pulled the soft white blankets tightly to himself and laid back down curling up and did not close his eyes.

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