Dying day
Mme Zeroni knew she was going to die.
Just like she knew that it was going to rain the next day, that the mayor's wife was going to run away from her husband and that humans were going to start travelling in space. The latter always made her laugh while thinking about it, as the idea of people being launched out in space was to her ridiculous.
But we're straying away from the subject.
As I was saying: Mme Zeroni knew she was going to die. She was lying in her bed and looking up on the roof, while her whole life passed before her eyes.
She remembered when she was five years old, and her mother punished her for pulling her little sister's hair. She remembered when she was ten years old, and her best friend died from a fever. She remembered when she was thirteen years old, and had pick-pocketed her father, stealing his money to buy a new dress. And she remembered the night she had her first dreamvision.
It had been a particularly warm summer.
Almost nothing had grown on the fields, and the flowers had withered and died. It hadn't rained in three months, and it was with a sore throat and a horrible headache that Mikaela Zeroni went to bed.
In summary: it hadn't been the best of times for Mikaela.
And it was going to get worse.
She could hear her grandfather play the violin outside the tent, and her mother singing an old song that the gypsies use as a lullaby. "If only, if only," the woodpecker sighs "The bark on the tree was just a bit softer." While the wolf waits below, hungry and lonely, He cries to the moo-oo-oon, "If only, if only." Mikaela fell asleep, peaceful and harmonious.
She dreamt of a river. The river was quiet and still, living its life in tranquillity.
She dreamt of a woman. The woman was walking towards the river, with a bucket in her hand to fetch water.
She dreamt of a man. The man was tall, but slim, and wore a dark, cruel gaze in his eyes. He took long steps, following the woman without making a noise.
She did not notice the man's presence, and leaned over the river unaware of the danger. He attacked her from behind, cutting her throat with a knife, and then pushing the body into the water.
Left on the riverbank lay the bucket. Mikaela recognised it. It belonged to her mother.
She woke up screaming, and ran in desperation to the river that was close to the camp.
She didn't run fast enough.
Mme Zeroni died, 80 years old, in her home lying in bed. A neighbour found her.
When he spoke about it with a friend, he described her face as: "…peaceful. Happy. Looked like she had looked forward to that moment. To the eternal rest." "Oh, well," said the friend, "she sure was a crazy old lady."