Morning...

Her eyes opened to a precariously dim lit room. She wakes with a jolt and stands, still unsteady from her slumber maybe. A sharp pain in her back and her sore eyes remind her, she had slept on the cold carpet yesterday. Her body still in grip of the sleepy inertia; she settles back on the oddly fresh rug and looks at the vacant room for some time. She fiddles with her hair wondering about the cold. There has been a weird lingering cold all over the place lately. Her bright and lively house seems to have given in to the cold, as it gives her the chills too. It is morning but still feels like there are hours left for the sun to wake from its own nap.

She finally gathers herself, for there is work to be done. Her children are off for a walk with her husband she figures. They didn’t wake her up? Killian didn’t wake her up? They did have a fight last night but it was unlike Killian to not come and sleep next to her in the middle of the night and wrap his protective arms around her. His warmth could take this cold away. But guess he was more angry than usual this time. Pancakes and espresso! That would bring the smile back on his face. She briskly walks towards the kitchen, the pain still refusing to subside from her frozen bones.

The carafe hazes with steam, ready with the boiling coffee and she languidly glances at the wet cobblestone. The pancakes are ready too, but her joyous troop has still not returned from the stroll. She opens the front door, stands on the porch; worry taking over, hollowing her somehow. Where are they? She wonders but soon her pensive trance is broken by nature. She notices the delightfully green grass pepping out of the white sheet slowly. The pancakes!

She finally manages to shake off the fear from her mind. They will be reaching any moment now, she thinks. Her children would be hungry. Killian, he loves her, he can’t be angry for so long and she has to make amends this time. It was her fault but only now that she thinks about the last night she can’t recall the reason behind the fight.

She hurriedly arranges the table. The pancakes, the maple syrup, the coffee pot all there, but her family is missing. She rushes inside the kitchen to fetch the box of Chocos for Marie. How did she forget that? Marie needs her chocolate filled milk every day first thing in the morning. How did she forget? She almost runs out with the box and a jug of hot milk and settles down on a dinning chair, tired and panting; the pain - more than she could bear now.

They are all there! Eating, giggling, enjoying; and so is she. She can see them, but not feel. The chill is growing with the day, and she knows now why. They are never coming, at least not to her. She exists but not as herself. She stares blankly at her own black eyes and the devil sneers. She is forced to watch her family; her Killian, her Marie and her Dan. They eat something in which, only she can see - blood, her blood with the devil flavor now. The devil is feeding them her blood! She runs towards the mirror right across the table, the mirror through which she was pulled into this grey cold world and the devil smiles at her.

“Marie, Honey, Mama loves you; now eat fast!” Is the last thing she hears before her new world echoes with ‘It is Time’.

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