The 13th of October.
To most, it was nothing more than a date—a passing moment in autumn. But for Rosaline, it always carried a strange, cold weight. A haunting breeze that never failed to sweep through her soul.
Thirteen years ago, on this very day, her parents had left for Tacoma… and returned forever changed.
Now, she stood in the quiet hospital room where time had seemingly frozen. Her parents lay on separate beds, unresponsive. Machines beeped softly, faithfully. To the world, they were in a coma. But to Rosaline, it was something deeper. A gaping silence. A nightmare that never ended.
She had only been three years old when it happened—too young to recall the crash, the chaos, or the cries. Yet each year, like clockwork, October 13th would bring her the same horrifying dream.
In it, her parents weren't her protectors. They were strangers… with hollow eyes and twisted whispers. They didn't embrace her. They chased her. Reached for her with cold hands and cruel smiles.
Every time, she'd wake up trembling, heart pounding, eyes wet with fear.
But like mist in the morning, the memory of the dream would fade away by the next day, leaving behind only the fear.
Today was no different.
"I still don't understand why they're like this," she whispered, kneeling beside their beds, gently placing a small flower pot between them. "Thirteen years… and they haven't moved. Not even once. Why?"
She brushed her mother's pale hand, longing for warmth she barely remembered.
"I wish they were here. I don't want to grow up waiting. I don't want to die before they wake up from that… long trip to Tacoma."
Granny Elira stood in the doorway, silent, until she slowly stepped in and sat beside her. Her face, aged with sorrow and strength, softened at the sight of her granddaughter.
"They loved you more than life itself, Rosaline. You were their whole world."
Rosaline wiped her cheek. "Then why did this happen to us? Was it… was it because of me?"
Elira's back stiffened. "Don't ever say that," she said quickly, sharply. "You were just a child. You had nothing to do with it."
Rosaline looked down, her voice barely audible. "But it happened on my birthday. And those dreams… why do I keep seeing them, Grandma? Why always October 13th?"
For a moment, Elira faltered. Her face betrayed something—a flicker of guilt, or fear.
"I'm not God, child," she murmured. "I can't explain dreams, or fate. Some things… just happen. And we learn to live with the pain."
Rosaline didn't press further, but her heart wasn't satisfied. Something felt… hidden.
They left the hospital in silence.
That evening, Elira tried to cheer her up. She cooked Rosaline's favorite meal—rosemary grilled chicken and creamy mashed potatoes—and baked a small cake with pink frosting. After dinner, she handed her a small gift-wrapped box.
Inside was a necklace—silver, elegant, with a delicate crescent moon pendant holding a glowing red gem.
Rosaline stared at it. A strange chill crept through her bones. She'd seen this before. Somewhere. Somehow.
"Where did this come from?" she asked softly.
Elira's smile was faint, but her eyes seemed far away. "It was your mother's. She gave it to me before the trip. Said you should have it when the time was right."
Rosaline cradled it in her palm. The gem pulsed faintly under the moonlight, crimson like a heartbeat.
Her grandmother took it gently and placed it around her neck. "Don't ever take it off," she whispered. "It's a form of protection, Rosaline. You don't know how powerful it is."
That night, Rosaline drifted into uneasy sleep.
The dream returned.
This time, it began differently. She saw her parents again, talking to someone—a man, a friend perhaps. The scene felt… familiar, as though she had walked through it a hundred times before.
Suddenly, as always, the fear began. Her parents turned to her. Their faces shifted. Their smiles twisted. She screamed.
And they began to chase her.
Rosaline ran, faster than she ever had. She reached their old house by the road, burst through the door, and barricaded it with everything she could find—chairs, tables, books.
Trembling, she clutched the necklace tightly in her hands and screamed: "Grandma!"
Then she saw him.
Standing calmly outside the window, as always—tall, mysterious, impossibly handsome. He held a black umbrella, untouched by the wind or the storm.
Peace returned the moment she saw him.
He stepped toward her, voice soft and deep. "Why do you keep coming back to this dream, Katherine? This is the last time you'll see it.
And then—silence.
She woke with a jolt, sweat dripping down her back. Her heart raced.
Granny Elira sat beside her, worry etched across her face. They embraced tightly.
"It was the same dream, wasn't it?" Elira asked gently.
Rosaline nodded. Her voice was shaky. "But this time… I saw him again."
Elira's eyes narrowed. "Who?"
"The man. He always comes at the end. But this time… he spoke to me. He said… he said it was the last time. And Grandma…" She hesitated. "He spoke to me like he knew me. Like he… owned me.He even called me Katherine."
Elira's expression changed.
She went pale.
Rosaline had never told her about the man before. Never mentioned him. Not once.
"Why didn't you tell me this sooner?" Elira asked, her voice tight.
"Because…" Rosaline swallowed. "I thought it wouldn't change anything. But now… I'm not so sure."