Prairie Dreams

Whatever the reason, Anne’s attention was grabbed by a single photograph of a young girl standing next to a dog. The picture was hanging just below the window. The young girl, housed in within a stained oak frame, was simply standing next to, what looked to Anne, like a collie-type breed of dog. The girls long blond hair reminded Anne of her own, hanging loosely around her shoulders. The dress the girl was wearing looked old and well worn. On her feet were leather slippers. But what really stood out in Anne’s mind was the expression on the girl’s face. Unlike all the other old pictures on the wall, the girl in this photo was smiling. A real smile too, not one of those fake ones we all make when someone say’s "cheese."

Reaching across her desk, which sat under the window, Anne removed the picture frame from the wall. Turning it over, Anne slipped the slightly yellowed photograph from the casing and read the inscription on the back. Mary Nahachewski and friend. Swan Plain. Age, 13. 1931. There was something else to the photo, but Anne just couldn’t figure out what it was; it felt… funny. She knew one thing though; Mary Nahachewski was her grandmother, her dad’s mom, who had passed away when Mary was just little. Sitting down on her bed, Anne just couldn’t take her eyes away from the little girl. It felt so strange to look at a young girl and think of her as grandma. We look so alike, she thought as her eyes soaked in Mary’s image. That strange feeling suddenly flowed over Anne again, the one that she just couldn’t put a finger on. She knew it had something to do with the photograph, but she didn’t know what. Staring into the eyes of her deceased grandmother, Anne could swear that they were looking back, studying her, as she studied the photo. "Weird." Reaching her free hand over to the picture, Anne covered the eyes of her grandma. Her hand touched the photograph and her body jerked forward as images of two men dressed in black flashed in her head. She laughed, unable to control her own mouth. "Don’t smile!" she heard a deep voice say as white light enveloped her, driving blindness into the core of her eyes. Dropping the photograph Anne threw her hands over her face and screamed in shock. Smoke filled her nose as she breathed hard, sucking in a lungful contaminated air and sending her body into a spasm of coughs. Disoriented and shocked, Anne moved off the bed and stumbled into someone’s grasp. Panicked, she shrieked and tried to pull back, but the hold on her wrist was firm.

"Mary!" The sound of her grandmother’s name snapped head upwards. An image of a man, silhouetted by the background sun slowly began to take form. "Are you okay child?" Anne stopped struggling; the effort was useless. She was outside, not in her bedroom. The man holding her was dressed all in black. His hair, also black, was slightly greasy and parted to one side. In shock, Anne glanced around. There was another figure in black standing beside what looked like an old fashioned camera. At his feet was the flash pan, used powder spilt on the ground. Anne knew what these items were because of her love for photography. "Ok, feeling better now?" The voice asked in a voice full of obvious concern.