My darling daffodil
I miss you more and more each day
Please hear my lament
And know I would give anything to take your place
Movement XIX: The Last Funeral
W̶̨̱͆̾à̴͈͐ ̷͕̱̅̎-̶̦̊͑ ̷̗͂u̶̹̟̒ ̶̮̻̈́-̴̤̈́͊
̴̡͇̈́W̵̘͋a̸̪͓̓̎k̸̝̜̓̈e̸̯̓ ̶̛̻̚u̶̥̳͆p̸̮̈́ ̵̧̠͆̓-̸̠̄ͅ
Wake up, sleepy head!
An ethereal voice echoed within the walls of his mind, nudging at his consciousness until it startled him from his slumber.
Blinking awake, Stephen opened his eyes to a blinding winter sky and towering maple trees. Snowflakes fluttered about the air and eventually found their way to the dazed man below, peppering his beard and eyebrows gently. As he assessed his situation, it didn't take long for him to recognize that the setting was an all too familiar one. It was almost as if the clouds had been molded straight from fragments of his distant memories.
Sitting up from the bed of snow that had packed around his figure, the man's suspicions were confirmed by the rustic farmhouse standing proudly on the frigid landscape; his parents' Nebraskan property.
While the structure was technically built on a section of farmland, his parents never used the acreage accordingly. Instead, the abode was treated as more of a rural vacation home where the family could get away from the bustling city from time to time. During his youth, this was Stephen's favorite destination, filled with fond memories of classic family fun. When at his childhood home in Philidelphia, he would always be dreaming of visiting the country to go kayaking, eat smores, celebrate holidays, and much more. The Stranges were a tight-knit group at one point, consisting of a loving mother and father, two boys, and one little girl.
Those blissful moments would be blackened in an instant by tragedy.
Stephen stood himself up and dusted away the snow that had built up on his chest and arms, vaguely aware that this wasn't reality. For starters, he was dressed in thin joggers and a plain t-shirt while standing out in the freezing cold and he felt nothing. In a typical instance of being astrally linked to a Stephen variant, he endured everything; every bit of pain or bliss. No, this wasn't a projection of another life - this was lucid dreaming.
The sorcerer was left to conclude that this scene must have been derived from his own memory; which was unfortunate as he had hoped to never see this place again. He tried to make sure he wouldn't by selling the property as he inherited it, much to his younger brother's dismay. What else could he have done? Stephen knew he couldn't cope with the responsibility of maintaining their parents' land - not after …
"Hey! Over here!"
The voice from before caught his attention and Strange turned to see a small child standing behind him. She had a celestial glow about her and a massive grin on her face. Also clearly not dressed for the weather, the young one sported a bright yellow sundress with bare feet and dark hair pulled into pigtails.
All that time, Stephen had managed to avoid dreaming or even thinking about her. He worked so hard to push her memory to the depths of his mind, to forget his guilt, but now here she was.
"Donna?"
"Surprised to see me?" the child's cheerful voice had about melted him. The sorcerer could feel his legs violently shaking before falling to his knees before her. Everything he had once tried to suppress, rushed back over him all at once.
"Donna, I -"
"Shhh," the girl interrupted him. "We don't have much time."
Stephen gave his younger sister a confused look, "What do you mean?"
"I have something I want to show you," Donna outstretched her hand as if to help the grown man up to his feet again.
The duo silently walked hand in hand for what seemed like an eternity through a wooded area, snow and branches crunching under their feet as they made their strides. Stephen had an inkling as to where the girl was taking him, but he dreaded it with every fiber of his being. Even still, he couldn't fight the urge to follow her there; perhaps he was hoping for some sort of closure by doing so.
Coming to a clearing, the siblings paused by the bank of a frozen lake. It was dusted lightly with snow, in a way that reminded the sorcerer of the powdered sugar on a lemon bar as a child. But now, it was a wretched place that was a constant reminder of the blood he bore on his hands in secret. Only his family ever knew of his crimes committed here.
Stephen felt a tug on his arm as Donna began leading him out onto the lake, causing him to tightly grip her hand so she wouldn't go any further.
"No, wait - "
"It's okay, big brother. Trust me," the young girl urged her brother and pulled him forward onto the ice.
His breath hitched in his throat as Stephen begrudgingly followed after his sister, feeling an immense gravity pressing down on him all the while. Reaching the scene of the crime, Donna stopped to stare up at the tense man with a reassuring smile.
There was a few moments of silence between them, aside from the gentle breeze that rustled the trees surrounding the lake. The older Strange was about to ask why they were here, but then the ice began cracking underneath their feet. Before he had time to react, the girl plunged into the numbing depths below and dragged the sorcerer down with her.
As if their legs were made of stone, the pair sunk to the bottom of the lake where they gently landed on what seemed to be a thick sheet of glass. Stephen felt his body sway as if he were submerged, but he could see and breathe normally. He noticed that his surroundings were less like an underwater ecosystem, and more as if they were encased in an acrylic box; somewhat like those whimsical keychains that contained liquid and glitter inside of them.
We made it.
The elder Strange glanced over at his sister, whose words came not from her lips but instead within his head once again. He would respond in kind, although a bit frustrated for being put through such an ordeal.
Why did you bring me here?
Donna smiled and squeezed her brother's hand.
Y̵̳̓o̶̞̊ṳ̸͝ ̸̱̇w̸͕̕i̸̭̋l̷͍͠ḻ̴̎ ̶̲͘s̵̜̊ë̷̦́ẹ̶̈́,̸̲͌ ̷̡̆i̵̲͝n̷͕͑ ̷͉̇t̷̢͠í̸̤ṃ̷͐e̷̟͛.̸̳̓
The young girl then reached out with her free hand and conjured an elegant crystal doorway. It stood without walls and should logically lead nowhere but to the other side. The sorcerer knew the laws of physics didn't apply here and as such, he was a bit anxious to see where his sister was directing him.
As Donna took back her hand, Stephen took in a deep breath and followed her directions. A turn of the knob would reveal the entryway into Wanda's house in Westview. He took a final glance back at his sister as if to ask her if she was serious, but she only waved him on.
T̵̬̕r̴̩͠u̷͕̕ṡ̸̙t̴͔̓ ̴̃͜m̸̹̚e̷̗̓,̶̲̉ ̸͎͘b̵̘͑ṟ̶͒o̴̥͘ẗ̶ͅh̵̹̅e̷̬̔ř̷͙.̶͉̿
Skeptical but malignantly curious, Strange stepped inside the witch's suburban home and examined his surroundings, wondering why Donna would have sent him here. He wouldn't get the chance to ask, though, as his elaborate ticket back to his parents' property dissipated behind him, leaving him no choice but to continue.
The house was dark except for an artificial light that trickled out from the living room, where giggles from the twins could be heard alongside that of their mother. Stephen cautiously made his way over to the family, happening across a sweet scene with the trio huddled up on the couch together. The T.V. was on but paused as if they were waiting on someone.
Barging in, Stephen saw himself come from out of the kitchen with a large bowl of popcorn. Tommy and Billy cheered as he took a seat with everyone and slid his arm around Wanda who snuggled up to him in response. The redhead pressed play on the remote control as the boys tore into the movie snack.
As the sorcerer observed, he couldn't help but think about how much he wanted this. It didn't necessarily have to be with Wanda or Christine - but with someone, one day. The thought of settling down was a comforting one, and to be fair, it was in his future plans but he never made an effort to make it a reality.
His hopeful trance was shattered the moment a fire erupted out of the television and quickly engulfed the house in flames. The family didn't run or acknowledge the inferno forming around them. Stephen called out to them and ran towards them in an attempt to save them, but before he reached them the scene quickly shifted to another.
Wanda now stood in a long black dress, mourning the loss of her children freshly laid to rest in matching graves. In one hand she held a parasol, presumably shielding herself from the sun, while the other hand rested at her side. A sinister feeling crept down the sorcerer's spine as he noticed blood dripping from her fingertips. Without turning around, the witch's voice grated Stephen's eardrums with harsh words.
"T̶̹̽h̵͔́i̶̡̊s̵̯̎ ̶̛̬i̸̲̕s̷̹̊ ̵̻̾y̷̠͆ö̵͖́ù̸̼r̸̛̹ ̵̣̓f̸̝͌ǎ̸̱u̴̗̓l̵̝̊ṯ̸͐.̸̩̿"
Alarm blaring, Stephen awoke in the morning feeling a bit disheveled. He squinted at the light that blared in from behind his curtains, illuminating the room with the morning sun. As he lay there, he wasn't quite sure what to make of his dream from the night prior. What was Donna trying to tell him?