Blood splatter on the ground. The enormity of the silence. The quiet breeze and soft sunlight of the morning coming in through the shattered windows. The crunch of the broken shards of glass under my boots as I walked slowly, weak-kneed, through the aftermath.

I woke up with a gasp, shaking my head of the memory I wished to forget. I was still in the windowless, wooded bedroom of the cabin I had been evacuated to. Worn, yellowing sheets were tangled around me. My neck started to itch as the sweat dried into it. I got out of bed. I needed some air.

I opened the bedroom door quietly. The door was open at the end of the hall. The sheer fabric covering the frame blew in from the gentle breeze. It was nighttime.

I tiptoed, barefoot, down the hall and out the door. I stepped down the familiar three stairs to the ground. My toes touched the cool, flattened earth, the dying patches of grass tickling my skin. I walked out further.

Still nothing. Our surroundings were entirely barren. Still, I walked out into the darkness, the full moon lighting my way.

I walked far enough that the cabin was a speck of light in the distance. I sat on the ground, staring at the moon. At least there was a speck of hope, and a reminder that there was still beauty in the world. I closed my eyes.

The angled rays of sun hit the tall grass. I ran through it, feeling its softness caress my arms. I felt my belly moving with a deep laugh. Lavender plants in various shades of purple dotted the landscape, filling me with calm as their therapeutic scent took over my senses. I plopped down, the soft grass a pillow under me. It surrounded me with comfort. I closed my eyes and felt the warmth of the sun on my cheeks. I heard birds chirping an uplifting tune, narrating this life of joy. Elysian Fields. One day this would be my home.