Shard of Ismar

                                                    Prologue

         “Mom, mom!!! Can’t you hear me, Mom? Mom, please stop! Mom!!!
         My breath is beginning to shorten and pain is beginning to enter my chest cavities, yet my mind and legs refuse to stop chasing for my mother. She seems to be floating through the air like a falling feather only much faster.
         I’m running harder and faster than I believe I’ve ever ran in the entirety of my life. I can’t seem to catch up to her. It seems as if the distance between us is constantly growing larger every second.  My eyes are beginning to blur or at least I think it’s my eyes. I can’t see anything now but  I feel a breeze of warm wind. The wind dies and my eyes come back into focus. I don’t see my mother anywhere. All I can see is a slit of bright light through the darkness. Staring at the light, I see a shadow pass it, through it, around it, or something. I’m not exactly sure.
         I hear a noise to my left and I squint to see if  I could see anything. All the while, out the corner of my eye, I see the light getting brighter, becoming to intense to keep my eyes open, so I squeeze them tight. I open them only to receive a direct flash of more intense light.
         My eyes close. My breathing is becoming normal. I open my eyes slowly hoping to avoid another sudden flash of stinging light. Everything is quite blurry. I can’t really tell where I am. A few seconds later, the blurriness begins to fade. I can now see that I’m sitting in my bed in my bedroom drenched in sweat, as well as my sheets.
         My throat feels itchy and I have throbbing migraine. I decide to go get me some water and some aspirin. I place one of my feet on the floor and it gets stubbed on something. I look down to see a clutter of my art supplies laying on the ground. I look around the room and I see something shocking and frightening.
         On my pillowcase is a mural. A mural of my dream. My pillowcase which had been a lovely shade of baby blue was now pitch black. Except, a small odd-shaped area of bright yellow. I start picking up my things and find something else. Under the pillow is a familiar looking chain. It was a cutting of my mothers necklace. It was a heart shaped locket with H&A engraved on the front and on the back was the inscription ‘To my Heather from your Aaron. This will be an always and forever.’
         My throat’s starting to itch more and more, so I guess I’ll go on and get some water.

                                 *********************
         My brother storms into the room to tell me it’s breakfast time.
         I go downstairs and my body takes first to the sight and smell of eggs and bacon, sausage and pancakes, and freshly squeezed orange juice. My eyes then sight her. Heather Frank. Beautiful. Generous. Energetic. And dying.
         She has something blocking areas of her brain that doctors, including my dad, have yet to recognize for the past year. All they know is that her red and white blood cells are constantly decreasing and they haven’t been able to stop it. They just know that if this continues she will die. The when and where are unknown. In a way, I want it to happen but i also don’t want it to happen. Even though I’ll miss my mom dearly, by her going from this world to the other she’d be releasing herself of all the pain and suffering. Pain and suffering I see in her eyes daily.
         Looking at the locket around my mother’s neck has made me remember my dream. I can’t talk or move, all I can do is stare at the charm around her neck.
         I sit at the table and realize my dad isn’t here. He’s probably in the den as usual. My little brother, Eric, is at the table in his seat right next to our mom. He’s 14, three years younger than me. He’s the greediest, most talkative, and biggest baby I know. My mom may have spoiled him rotten.
         I was so lost in my thought, that I didn’t hear my brother calling me. I come back to realization only to see my brother kneeling on the floor by my mother, who’s breathing heavily with scattered china around her.
         “Why are you standing there you big idiot. Do something,” yells my brother, while a river of tears stream down his cheeks.
         As I run to the den to get my father, my brothers cries follow my down the hall echoing in my ear: ‘Mom! Mommy! Wake Up! Don’t Go!!!’
         After alerting my father, I used the den phone to call 911. It takes a minute or two for me to give the information correctly. The ambulance arrives five minutes later. My dad gets in the back, tears pouring down his face.

                                                *********************
         We, my brother and I, have been sitting in the waiting room for the last two hours, maybe even more, and we have yet to find out anything. We haven’t seen our father either.
         “Mom’s gon be okay right? She’s gonna come outta there as happy as a clam, right?”
         “She’s gonna be alright,” I said, “She’ll be in a good place.”
         She’s going to a better place alright, I thought to myself.
         “That good place is home, right,” asks my brother with a face full of tears and mucus. I don’t answer him.
I am afraid. I feel as if this is my fault; that i could’ve prevented this. Maybe if I had of told my dad about my dream last night, when he came from work, he could’ve prevented this or  had a heads up on the situation.  I looked up to see my dad coming down the hall.
         “Michael, Eric,” says my father, his tone bringing me from my thoughts. He isn’t wearing his glasses for a change. His face is bloodshot red. His eyes are streaming with tears, red, and filled with grief.
         “Dad, why are you looking like that,” asks Eric.
         “I’m sorry. We tried all we could but we couldn’t save her.”
         “Stop calling MOM a HER like you don’t know her. She was my mom. OUR Mom. YOUR wife. You shoulda tried harder. You didn’t try hard enough. I hate you,” yells my brother through anger and frustration. I reach out to hold him and comfort him but he only pushes me away and runs.
         As he gets further and further down the hall, his cries echo and grow louder in my head: ‘It’s all your fault. YOUR fault.’
         They just don’t know.
         I saw this coming.
         I was given a chance to prevent this.
         It was my fault........