Conor sat at the base of the yew tree. Staring off into space, reflecting on the events month before. “She’s gone.” he still couldn’t wrap his mind around it. His mum. Gone? It was like a blur. That night, yet the detail of everything was sharp as an arrow. The beep of the electrocardiograph. The way his Mum’s eyes closed. The sound of her deep, rough, last breath. Every detail was stuck in his brain. The fresh coffee stain on the doctor’s white shirt as he ran in with the crash cart. But he knew she was gone.The nightmare had taken her at last. Conor stood up from the base of the yew tree. A thick envelope in his hand. His Mum’s will. She had left him the house. She left him everything. His grandma had sold her house to move into Conor’s house. His house. His mum’s room was closed off. Untouched by anyone.
Conor started to walk away from the yew tree.
Away from his house and to the cemetery. He walked up to the newest grave, a white tree. A yew tree. “I miss you” Conor choked out quietly. When his mum died, he shed so many tears he thought he could never cry again. Yet here he was, tears streaming down his face quietly. “I miss you so, so, so much”. He sobbed. As night fell, Conor trudged home slowly, savoring the quiet before he entered his home. He knew when he got back, his grandma would scream at him for something. Staying out too long. For ruining his new shirt which was dirty from sitting at the base of the yew tree. “You sure about that boy”? A gruff, familiar voice said.
Conor spun around, shocked. The yew tree towered above him. “Your back.” “What do you want”. Conor said sharply. “I came back to come walking again.” The monster responded. Startled, all traces of anger disappearing, Conor asked “But, why? I don’t need your help!” The monster laughed. It was a deep, booming sound. “I never said I was here for you. I have come walking for your grandmother, who has a hole deep in her heart. Deeper than the fall your mum took in the nightmare. She needs my help for she will have a journey ahead of her that is harder than the journey your mum took down, so she can go up.” After these words, Conor’s vision blurred and the last thing he saw was the glowing bright eyes of the nightmare, and the ground suddenly coming very fast towards him, reaching his face. Then blackness took over his vision.
Conor woke up with a giant headache, and his grandma’s face, filled with fear. “I-I saw an m-monster…” Conor felt like he knew what she was talking about, yet he knew nothing about a monster. Conor replied, “It was just a nightmare.” Conor’s grandma scoffed all traces of fear gone. “Then how could there be leaves covering my floor?” Conor once again was struck by deja vu. “I have no idea. Maybe you put them there in your sleep?” She sharply said, “Of course I didn-” The phone rang, interrupting her. Conor’s grandma glared at Conor like it was his fault the phone rang. “Hello?” his grandma said to the phone. “Yes of course…” “ Oh no...” “But he just lost her!” At the word, “her” Conor froze. His mum. That’s who his grandma meant. Of course, she did. Who else could she mean? “Okay. When is it? … The 23rd? Okay. We will be there.” She hung up the phone. “Conor. We need to talk.” Fear and anxiety in her voice. “What about?” Conor asked, “It’s your dad.” “What happened?” Conor asked, his voice dripping with fear. “He’s dead.” His grandmother said softly.