As I walked out of the hospital, Diane offered to take me to my grandpa’s Cabin, and I said yes. She looked so different in her casual clothes. With her long, straight black hair that shimmered like the night sky and round, azure eyes that seemed to hold mysteries of their own,

Diane exuded an air of quiet calm.

Mary suddenly remembered how she smiled softly at her when she woke up, her voice was more than a relief.

Diane looked at Mary and said.

“Mary, would you like to grab a cup of coffee?”

“Let’s have a lovely evening, I think you deserve it”

Despite the late hour, Mary found herself nodding. There was something about Diane’s gentle demeanor that put her at ease, even in the midst of the turmoil she felt inside. As they walked through the city streets, Mary talked about her childhood in Vinewood. She shared stories of her days spent at her grandfather’s cabin, the swing under the old oak tree, and the endless hours listening to his fantastical tales. Diane listened intently, her eyes never leaving Mary’s face, as if she were trying to absorb every word.

When they reached the cozy café in the Plaza, Mary felt a brief moment of peace. The warm light of the café contrasted with the cool evening air outside. They took a seat by the window, the glass slightly fogged from the warmth inside. Diane ordered them both a cup of coffee, her voice still soft, almost as if she were telling a secret.

As they sat sipping their drinks, Mary noticed the blue butterfly that fluttered near the window until it landed delicately on the glass.

Mary stared at the butterfly, her breath catching in her throat. Its wings were the same deep blue as the one in her dream, the dream that had haunted her since the accident.

Diane followed her gaze, her brow furrowing in concern.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“What’s wrong, Mary?” she asked, her voice tinged with worry.

Mary hesitated before answering, her voice trembling.

“In my dream, there was a blue butterfly, just like this one. And… it had Lucas’s eyes.”

Diane’s expression softened, and she reached across the table to touch Mary’s hand.

“It’s just a butterfly, Mary.” She said soothingly.

“Dreams can be strange and sometimes seem more real than they really are.”

But as if defying Diane’s words, the butterfly suddenly took flight from the window and landed on Mary’s hand. She froze, feeling the cold, delicate touch of its wings. The butterfly slowly opened its wings, revealing the intricate pattern that mirrored Lucas’s eyes. They stared back at her, filled with a sorrow that pierced her heart.

Mary gasped as a sharp pain shot through her chest. Her hand began to feel icy cold, as though life was being drained from her. Before she could react, Diane’s eyes rolled back, and she collapsed, slumping against the table. The café around them shuddered with a sudden tremor, the lights flickering before going out completely, plunging them into darkness.

Panic gripped Mary as she clutched her chest, the coldness spreading through her body. The café seemed to grow silent, the world around her narrowing to the pain and the chilling presence of the butterfly. It felt as though time had stopped, as if she were trapped in that moment forever.

Then, as abruptly as it began, the tremor ceased, and the lights flickered back on. The café returned to its normal hum of life, but Diane was gone. Mary’s heart raced as she looked around, her mind struggling to comprehend what had just happened. The chair where Diane had been sitting was empty, and there was no sign of her anywhere.

But when Mary looked down at her hand, her breath caught in her throat. The blue butterfly was gone, but in its place, a tattoo had appeared. The intricate design was an exact replica of the butterfly, its wings still holding the haunting gaze of Lucas’s eyes.

Mary’s hand trembled as she touched the tattoo, the skin still cold to the touch. Her mind was a whirlwind of confusion and fear. What had just happened? Where had Diane gone? And what did this tattoo mean?

She felt the weight of the mystery pressing down on her, a sense of dread creeping into her soul. The connection between the butterfly, Lucas, and her dream was too strong to ignore. And now, with this tattoo branded onto her skin, Mary knew she couldn’t escape it.

The weight of Mary’s grief still pressing heavily on her shoulders, she knew there was only one place she could go: her grandfather’s cabin.