Beginnings - A Dream only Death can bring.

The moon sunk low against the dark horizon, a creamy sliver hanging just above the top peaks of the mountains. Its weak glimmer drifted through an upper bedroom window of a new two-story brick and stucco suburban home. The moon light reflected off a small framed picture of a proud father holding a smiling infant on a faded red swing. The picture hung shoulder high on a wall of beige wallpaper with dancing teddy bears and colorful balloons.


The nursery was modestly furnished. A light oak crib stood against one wall, the bedding matching the teddy bear theme. Next to the crib sat a matching oak changing table. A padded glider rocker hugged the corner of the room opposite the door.

The crib was empty. The side facing the room was in its lowered position. The sheets were wrinkled and mussed. A small flannel blanket had been tossed aside and hung limply over one end. The tiny light from the small white baby monitor, facing the crib from the window sill, glowed red, its switch in the “on” position. The window stood open, screen gone. The drawn curtains, pushed to the sides, billowed inward in relative silence from the warm August breezes.

Amanda opened her eyes with a start. She lay on her side, her cheek buried in a pillow. The sheets were drawn up around her shoulders. She felt a shiver start from her neck and run down her spine to her toes. Michael always kept the house so cold with the air conditioner running all the time. Had that been what had awakened her? She pulled the sheets more tightly around her body and turned to face Michael’s soft snores. She closed her eyes again and tried to relax. It was then that the dream came back to her mind. She gasped for air. Her fists clenched and she sat up, her movements pulling the sheets off of Michael’s body, exposing him.

“Michael, where is the baby?” She stammered.