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Fever Dreams

The grass swayed slowly in the low, gentle breeze. The sun shone brightly on her as her hair floated around her face in a way that could only be considered angelic. Three short daisies were grasped in her thin little hand as she walked through the field, occasionally stopping to turn and make sure her father was following.

"Come on! Mummy's waiting for us," she sighed impatiently, grabbing his hand to pull him at a slightly faster pace.

A small smile broke onto his face as he gently chided her, "Dont fret Nayeli, she will still be there when we arrive."

"Do you still have your flowers Daddy?" she asked, admiring the daisies she had picked out herself.

He nodded, "Yes, they are right here," he replied, holding out a handful of bright red roses.

Nayeli smiled gleefully, "Mummy will love the flowers, right?" she asked, admiring the tiny daisies.

Her father nodded, his smile fading as they got closer and closer to the small cluster of trees in the middle of the field.

When they arrived, she dropped his hand to run to the base of the largest tree and sat in the dirt in front of the crudely cut tombstone.

She placed the flowers on the empty space in front of the stone, softly flattening them out caringly. Her father watched as she sat and pulled her knees close to her chest while running her fingers over the dirt above her mother.

"I brought you flowers Mummy, Daddy let me pick them all by myself," she said to the tombstone. Her father watched as she continued to talk about her day.

He watched from a small distance, still gripping the roses he had picked off the bush his wife had planted the year Nayeli had been born. Today marked the third week he had been caring for their daughter alone. Each day they walked to her grave and when they arrived home, he told her stories of her mother in the hopes that she would never forget the wonderful woman who had left them too early.

"Daddy misses you, I want you to come home" Nayeli's hands fisted in the fabric of her dress, "I want you to come home now" she cried softly.

Her father strode over and easily lifted his daughter, holding her close as she cried into his shoulder. When her quiet sobs turned into hiccups, he set her down and placed the roses on the grave before sittig with his daughter as he told stories about her mother. When the sun began to set, he stood, and grasping Nayeli's hand they started walking back to their home.

Nayeli sniffed and hiccuped, stumbling every few minutes before her father picked her up and carried her. She quickly fell asleep and he set her in her bed when they arrived home, kissing her forehead before he went back outside.

He sat for hours thinking of his wife, wondering how he would raise their daughter on his own. He had promised to do his best, to teach her everything her knew, to give her a happy childhood and never let her forget her mother. Which is exactly what he did.
Over the next months, he began to homeschool Nayeli, teaching her to read and write. He taught her to add and subtract numbers, to tell the differences of herbs from the garden, and many other things. They continued to visit her mother's grave every evening, leaving flowers each visit.

The day Nayeli caught a cold was the first day they didn't visit her grave. Weeks followed as Nayeli got worse, not once did they walk to the grave.

The weather grew colder and Nayeli became bedridden. Her father found the best doctor available and learned the devastating news of her condition. A deadly, uncurable disease had found it's way to Nayeli, stealing her energy and depriving her of visiting her mother, who she grew to miss more and more each passing day.

When the snow came, Nayeli could not speak as the pain in her throat had become too much for her. She communitated with her father by writing on old papers, asking to visit her mother each morning but being denied each time.

The day her fever got worse was the day her father quit his job. He slept on the floor in her room each night, never leaving her side and fearing that each day might be her last. She began sleeping more, only managing to gain consciousness a few times a day. Each time she did, she begged for her mother, begged to go to her grave. Each time her father told her no.

Many times she woke screaming as a result from the dreams caused by her always increasing fever. Her father grew more worried when she began mumbling in her sleep and calling out for her mother.

One night, due to not working, her father had run out of money for food. He asked their neighbor to check on Nayeli a few times while he went out to earn some more money. He left as the sun set, making his way into town through through the snow.

Nayeli woke alone for the first time in weeks. She had woken crying amd calling for her mother from one of her fever induced dreams. Half asleep, she scribbled a note on a piece of paper for her father then wandered outside, wearing only her night clothes.

It took her over an hour to get to the grave. Her knees were red and bloodied from falling onto the ice and snow so many times. She fell on the grave, exausted. As she lay there, she traced over the name carved into the stone with her tiny, cold fingers.

Many times she fell asleep, only to awake minutes later from the unbearable cold. She lay there for hours, slowly losing the movement of her arms and legs.

Her father had arrived home with no money, and found his beloved daughter's bed empty and cold. It took him no time to find her trail through the snow heading throigh the field. He ran, getting there in under ten minutes.

Her cold body was curled up against the tombstone, unmoving. He raced to her side, ripping off his jacket and wrapping her in it. Her eyes stayed closed and she did not move, even as he began gently shaking her.

After what seemed like hours to him, her lips parted and she coughed, then reached out a hand to touch his face.

He quickly covered her hand with his own, protecting it from the cold, "Nayeli" He whispered, his voice breaking.

"Mummy wants me to go with her, Daddy," she said hoarsely, her eyes fluttering, trying to stay open, but failing.

"No, Nayeli, stay here!" he begged, shaking her gently again when she did not respond.

Her eyes opened slightly, she frowned, "Daddy, Mummy says I can stop hurting if I go with her," her voice was barely audible.

He buried his face in her hair, tears running freely as he sobbed uncontrollably. Her little hand found his and squeezed as her breathing started to slow. He held her close to him as her breathing slowed to a stop and her eyes fell shut. He stayed there until morning, cradling her body as he continued to sob. When the sun rose, he set her down and returned home to retrieve a shovel and an armful of flowers from the garden she had helped him plant.

He dug for hours, his hands blistering as he made the hole big enough for her little body. He buried her right beside her mother, then spread the flowers over both of them. He slept in the snow between their graves, hoping the cold might take him to them.