I smile down at my infant son who lay upon my breast. His soft skin and peaceful dreaming held me paralyzed in the most joyous moment of my life. Sleep rarely comes for me at night. I would be there, ready to cradle him in my arms, singing softly in his ear. Night after night I pray that this magical feeling I have with my son shall not cease, for he is the only one I have. His father does not exist, leaving me in the dead of winter before my miracle came into this world, and has yet asked about his son. I shall protect him from the man that helped create him, for he is better off with me. My babe is my life, my soul, the sun and the moon, for all season. Having my son resting comfortably in my arms is my place of serenity.
My fear becomes my living nightmare at any moment when I feel the wool blanket that held my son, become light. I lower my head and finger the soft wool that is draped over my bare arm. Day after day, night after night, my heart aches for my baby and I feel my soul struggling to heal. My weeks turn into months and the months turn into years as so it seemed. Most of the time I have no idea where I am. Every time this horrific event happens I look for my Jonathon. I promise myself I would never give up searching for the reason why my son keeps leaving me, until he is back resting safely in my arms for good.

*****

The vision came to me once again in my slumber. I lightly gripped the satin sheets between my fingers. I raised my head slightly off the pillow when I heard my son start to stir. I smiled warmly and I felt my heart shudder in relief. My son is still with me. He is safe by my side, safe in my life, safe in my arms. The visions I kept having came in waves, one far more vivid than the last. They came to me faster every time I closed my eyes. My son slept soundless, his soft creamed face took the image of a porcelain doll. He is perfect. If I hold him tighter than before, will he still here?

I got up and reached in the cradle, picking up my infant son and placing him in my arms. As I held him, I wondered how fast my next vision would come. How fast will my son disappear from my life? I fear to meet the answer.

******

This cannot be. These visions are plaguing my life. Now they come in my waking state instead and my worst nightmare suddenly comes to haunt me. My son is not with me. His basinet is empty. The wool blanket I kept him wrapped up tightly in, is crusty and hard, with a dirty brown color replacing the cream color it once portrayed. The blanket slipped through my fingers, raggedy and dull.

Everything around me looked and smelled old. The bed creaked as I sat on it, cobwebs made their home in every corner and crevasse of the room. The wooden floors are warped under my feet. It is a time like this that I wish I were still asleep.

I stand up from my bed and walk slowly and without a sound over to the door. My hand rested lightly on the doorknob. I wanted to turn the brass knob and step out into the hallway, but my hand remained in its frozen state upon the knob. I have been in this bedroom for as long as I could remember and I never been out into the hall since I started having these visions.

When I heard a low cry coming from beside me, I plucked my hand off the knob and took a few steps back, my heart leaping into my throat. I hear my baby crying for me. He is letting me know that he is here, but where? I spun around and around, looking up and down, side to side, but still I could not find him.

“Oh, my Jonathon, I hear your cry, but I cannot find you.” I looked at the door once again. I started feeling anxious and I felt the power rising inside me. I had to open the door and look out. I took a deep breath and clutched the knob hard in my hand. With all my might, I swung open the door, only to be welcomed by hell itself. My blood froze solid in my veins and the screams came running out of their hiding place. The bright blood red fire blazed above me and all around me. It felt like a million years before I finally got the door closed. I prayed that this was only part of the vision, but I knew I must be delusional. If this were really a vision, those flames would only be my imagination, but I felt the flames burning my skin. Hell is just behind the door and I cannot get out. I am a prisoner.

*******

The creaking of the floorboards jerked me out of my resting place. I lifted my head and listened carefully, my back pressed up against the door. The footsteps were heavy, slowly walking down the hall. I pressed my hands to the wall and leaned my head back, sweat trickling down my neck. My body suddenly went cold when the footsteps came to a halt right outside the door. I could hear heavy breathing, and by the sound of it, it must be a man. Willy? My ex husband, that had left me, pregnant and alone, has to be the one standing out there. Willy is the only man I know besides my own father, who died before I became pregnant. I am an only child, for I don’t have any brothers.

 
Warily, I turned my body and lifted myself up, so I could look out of the key hole. I was either wrong about Willy, or my imagination is taking over again, because when I looked out, there was no one standing out there, but yet, I could still here the heavy breathing.

 
Suddenly, alarming pounding of the door made me dive away in pure panic. I cried and covered my face with shaky hands. The door shook with each pounding. I feared whoever it was will get in. The hammering stopped as soon as it started and it became eerily silent. I lowered my hands and placed them firmly on the floorboards. I remained on the splintered floor for almost an hour before I had the courage to slink back toward the door. I peered through the key hole, my knees wobbling violently beneath me. Just like before, no one was out there. I collapsed back against the door in relief. The sound of heavy footsteps, intense breathing, and the creaking of the floorboards ceased to exist. I reached over and snatched Jonathon’s dull wool blanket off the floor and held it close to my face, ignoring the stench it gave off. My eyes started to swell and the tears soon were released.
“Oh, my sweet boy, where are you?”

******

A feeling came over me that I could not explain; the feeling of being watched. I felt like I was in a bowl, with eyes surrounding all sides of me and staring me down. I woke lying on top of my bed; the room plunged into darkness. The moonlight that usually shines through the window before me seemed to be blocked by an abnormal shadow. I propped myself up on my elbows and stared into the darkness. Then, the shadow moved. I shot completely up and scrambled to my feet.

“Who are you? How did you get in here?” The stranger kept quiet. I moved closer, making out the outline of a tall man. I shrunk back, my hand clutching my chest.
“Willy, is that you?” Silence. He took a step toward me, letting the moonlight break free. The stranger is definitely Willy. I acknowledged the thin lines across his forehead and the dead eyes that stared into the unknown. The heavy, ragged breathing…filled my ears.
“Were you the one outside the door earlier?” Willy walked closer to me. I wanted to reach out and touch his cheek but I was afraid of what he’ll do to me. Before Willy left me, our fights would get forceful and I would cower in fear each night he came home angry. Confusion set in as I leaned in closer to him. Willy didn’t seem to see me standing there. He was looking and resting his hand on Jonathon’s crib.

“Jonathon is not—“A movement from inside the crib caught my eye. I whipped my head towards the movement and cried out in joy when I saw a small little hand reaching toward the sky. My joyous moment was short lived when Willy began to reach down into the crib. Willy was one human being in this world I wanted Jonathon to stay away from.

“No! Do not touch him!” At that moment I sprung forward. I pushed myself between Willy and Jonathon, shielding my son from the danger that lurked. I whirled around, ready to face what was coming to me, but I was only welcomed by darkness. Willy was not there anymore. Was this only a vision? I cried out, exhaustion overwhelming me. These visions are draining the life out of me. I still could not grasp what was going on; what these visions really meant.

Taking a deep breath, I reached in and cradled Jonathon to my chest and then walked to the window and stared out into the distance.

 
******

My last vision flashed right in from of my eyes. Willy came to me more so than before, a pillow clutched tightly in his hand. It was the satin pillow my mother had sewn and put together for me when I was a little girl. Willy had brought the pillow up from downstairs, but why? I lay there on the bed, my mind flowing with confusion and my body frozen in fear. The menacing look on Willy’s face terrified me more than anything ever had and I didn’t understand why he had the look of pure evil. He hovered above me, clutching the pillow so tightly, his knuckles were white. I spoke to him, trying to find the right words to say, but his face remained frozen and he never blinked. He remained silent, his eyes blank. I wanted to sit up and carefully take the pillow out of his hands, but I couldn’t get my body to move. My mind screamed and screamed telling me to take action, but what came next, I knew I failed myself.

Then, I stood standing beside my bed with absolute shock and fear and a little anger as I watched Willy reach inside Jonathon’s crib and lift him up in his arms. I glance down at my still, lifeless body sprawled out onto the bed. If only I was only sleeping, but I was not. I was dead. I am a spirit. I never knew before and now everything makes sense. My husband had murdered me and then took my beloved son. If I am dead, then where is Heaven? Where is Hell? I am forever stuck in this house, so I guess this is my hell.
The scene abruptly changed and I found myself standing in the middle of my bedroom, my body stiff, and my toes barely touching the hard wood floor. I felt terribly light, the feeling ran out of my fingers. My bedroom was empty, my bed ceased to exist on the far west wall. The windows stood naked without the tan lace curtains that once covered them.

Something was terribly wrong as I stared out of the window. Outside the grass is green; a huge oak tree rests on the east side of the road. The air seemed more pure and the sky seemed bluer. What I couldn’t process, was the strange foreign object on four wheels. What is this machine and where is my carriage that once stood in front of the house?

Then, the sides of the strange object opened and two women got out of it, pushing the sides back to their resting place. The clothes they wore were unusual looking.

I scowled as I watched them slowly enter my house. Who are these intruders? What are they doing in my house? This is my house! I walked to my bedroom door and flung it open soundlessly. I glided over to the railing and peeked over, eyeing the intruders down hard. There was no way I would let these intruders take my house. I lived here. I died here. I will remain here. I will protect what is rightfully mine!

Seething, I turned back and floated toward my bedroom, when I heard Jonathon start to cry.