The sun shone brightly down onto the earth. A warm breeze carried the scents of flowers and the sounds of living creatures. I breathed in, taking in the peace of an early summer afternoon. The bugs did not bother me as they hovered near the shallow fresh water stream that skipped over stones smoothed by years of erosion. My dog bounded around me, weaving through the trees and rolling in the grass.
I was happy, yet at the same time I was not/ for while I took in the peaceful scene before me, another flashed in my vision. It took a while for me to piece the flashes together, but when I was finally able to, I gasped in horror.
The beautiful stream chocked with ash, the trees ablaze with bright reds and yellows, and thick black smoke blinded the sun and buried the sky. And yet, as horrible as all these things were, my blood ran cold as I saw the still body of my dog lying before me. His once proud, luxurious, golden fur was singed in parts a disgusting black, other parts of his skin were an exposed angry red from horrible burns.
Worst of these were the bloody cuts that criss-crossed his side from where he had fought with–who had he fought? What had happened here? I knew that it was something important, but I couldn't remember.
I saw double, a clear shining stream to a dark dead body of a being that had been horrible wronged. My joyful and energetic companion became a mangled heap that held none of its past glory. A calm breeze turned suffocating smoke, bright greens to red. The sight made my blood boil and freeze in a way that I was sure as far from healthy; my heart pounded in my ears.
And then I was jolted awake to the most horrible pain imaginable. It passed as quickly as it had come but left me with an unshakable sense of dread.
I looked at my calendar and saw that it was February 25th, 1947. Today was the day.