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The WeatherMaker Hearts Desire By Lady Lilium Characters: 5068

Updated: 2018-07-10 19:02


Now Farrell slept deeply, and he dreamed.

He was walking through woodland, a forest he recognised. It was the one near his home, the one he had once spend so much time wandering with Ramana, when she was alive.

Everything was still. The low sun shone through the columns of the trees, casting long shadows upon the forest floor.

Everything was quiet, apart from his own footsteps as Farrell walked forwards. There was not a bird to be heard, nor the sound of wind, nor the sound of any flowing water, despite there being a stream nearby.

He saw a figure in the woods, standing with her back to him; a mature female figure, with long cascading black hair that reached to the bottom of her back.

Farrell approached her, reaching a hand out to touch her shoulder.

'Ramana.'

He turned her around to see her face; then let out a slight gasp of surprise, stepping back.

It wasn't Ramana, but someone who looked very similar, with a younger face. It was perhaps……what his daughter might have looked like.

The figure spoke directly to him.

'I am still alive' she breathed. 'Find me….'

Farrell opened his eyes.

He threw the sheets back, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He leant with his elbows on his knees, face in his hands as he rubbed his eyes wearily. Then he paused as his mind began to wake, the memories slowly coming back to him.

That dream….

He lowered his hands slowly, and he straightened up.

That young woman….it looked so much like what his daughter might have looked like….if she was still alive….

'Find me….'

His stomach began to slowly tighten as exciting thoughts crept into his mind.

Was that dream real? Was it perhaps a premonition?

'What if she's still alive?' Farrell mumbled to himself.

What is this that I'm feeling? Farrell thought. I've never felt this way before.

And then he suddenly realised something, something he had forgotten, that had stayed beneath the surface of his conscious thought for twelve years, something from that terrible day when he lost both his beloved wife and child.

Ramana's body had been buried. But Amaia's had never been found.

Farrell sat there on his bed. Thinking.

What if she is still alive? Could it be true? After all this time?

He rose from his bed; wild thoughts of possibility were running through his mind, so fresh and exciting when he first woke, now they began to fade as he dressed.

By the time he went downstairs to prepare his breakfast, they were gone altogether.

The rest of t

hat day was perfectly normal.

That night, Farrell dreamed again, and it was the same dream as the one he had the night before.

It was a dream of her. And again. She said the same thing.

'I am still alive. 'Find me….'

Farrell woke that morning, not with the same feeling of excitement as he had experience the morning before, but a strange feeling he couldn't describe, a foreign and uneasy feeling. But once again, as he had the morning before, his strange feelings ebbed away, and by the time he finished his breakfast, they were gone altogether.

After that he left his house, looking for something to occupy him.

That night he dreamed again. And the night after that. And the one after that.

'Find me….'

'Find me….'

'Find me….'

Chapter Nineteen

No turning back

'I don't know what's wrong with me. These dreams….it's like they're beginning to haunt me.'

Farrell sat in the kitchen of his grand home. The woman he was talking to, was a newly acquired love, they had been together for only a few short months. It was a strange relationship. She was a young traveller of some kind, but she refused to speak of her life or her past to him, Farrell barely even knew who she was, even now.

'Maybe it's a sign' Nevina replied, taking a seat opposite him and pushing the breakfast she had made across the table for him to eat.

Farrell picked up his fork, but didn't touch his food. He lifted his head, glancing across the table at Nevina. She was an unusual woman. With blonde shaggy hair and naturally light skin, she wore heavy make-up around her eyes and had bright red lips. Her nails were painted, and covering each forearm, she wore extensive tattoos of many different pictures fitting together. It looked indeed as if she had travelled far in her life, and to many places.

Nevina weaved her fingers together, leaning forwards on her elbows as she rested her chin upon the back of her hands.

'You're not eating.'

'I just can't get her face out of my mind' Farrell went on, ignoring her comment.

'Perhaps it's a sign from the gods.'

'You know I don't believe in that rubbish' Farrell scowled.

'You might call it rubbish' Nevina smirked knowingly, 'others however feel quite strongly to the contrary.' She pushed her chair back, rising to stand. 'I have seen many things in my life' she told him vaguely as she glided out of the kitchen, 'many incredible things that no one can even begin to explain. I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss any notion of a god if I were you.'

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