Damien Kael
The sound of the rain rang on the stone walls of the room like a heart echoing from far away. Line opened her eyes slowly. For a moment he tried to remember where he was — but the shape of the ceiling was unfamiliar. It was dim inside the room; heavy velvet curtains, a large fireplace, vintage furniture… Everything seemed to have jumped out of the page of a novel. When he lifted his head from the pillow, he felt dizzy. There was a suffocating fog in him—it was as if he had just stepped out of someone else's dream. But this wasn't a dream. It couldn't be more real. When he pushed the blanket away and tried to sit up, he felt warmth on his wrist. A little hand… "Mom?" Line's breath hitched. Lying next to him was a six- or seven-year-old boy with black hair. She was looking at him with her big gray eyes—a timid but loving look. "Mom… I had a bad dream," said the child in a whisper. Line's lips parted, but the words got stuck in her throat. Mother… Who was he talking about? He held the child's hands. It was small, it was warm… it was real. "I…" He couldn't continue.
About Damien Kael
The sound of the rain rang on the stone walls of the room like a heart echoing from far away. Line opened her eyes slowly. For a moment he tried to remember where he was — but the shape of the ceiling was unfamiliar. It was dim inside the room; heavy velvet curtains, a large fireplace, vintage furniture… Everything seemed to have jumped out of t...Read more