Crimson Dawn

Arora always believed her life sat somewhere in the middle — not too dark, not too bright, like a hallway where the lights flickered but never went out. Her mother liked to say they were doing “just fine.” Their small house at the edge of the city wasn’t poor, but it wasn’t the mansion life her father once brought them either. It was somewhere in between, like everything else in Arora’s life. But Arora herself… she was not “in between.” She stood out everywhere. Her hair, a deep crimson red, looked like it carried sunlight inside it. In school, people joked she looked like she’d run away from a painting. Her eyes were soft brown, her skin pale like winter snow, and her smile—when she remembered to smile—had a strange sadness behind it. Maybe because of her dreams. Those dreams again. She had them since she was little—dark places, strange shapes, faraway whispers that sounded like voices from a world she didn’t belong to. A world she couldn’t describe, a world she was scared to remember even after waking up. Every time she dreamt it, there was always someone with her. Her father. Even after death, he lived inside that darkness. “Arora,” he would whisper inside the dream, a soft warm tone against the coldness around them. “It’s okay. It’s okay to dream of strange things.” Even as a child, she remembered reaching for him inside the dream. The darkness would swirl, twist, stretch like shadows learning how to breathe. “Daddy, why do I dream this?” her younger voice would cry. “It’s okay,” he always said. “Dreams don’t hurt you.” But he was wrong. The dreams didn’t hurt her. The loss did. Because when she woke up, he wasn’t there. Only the memory of him. Only the echo. Only the shadows. ⸻ That morning began like any other day—quiet, slow, slightly cold. Arora woke up from the same dream again, the same swirling darkness, the same fatherly voice saying everything would be alright. She sat up with her heart beating too fast. “Great,” she muttered. “Dreams again.” Her hair fell across her face like red silk, messy from sleep. She brushed it back and stared at her window. The morning light was soft, almost shy. For a moment, she wished she could go back to sleep, just to see her father again. But life doesn’t let you return to dreams when you want to. It only throws you into reality when you least expect it. “Arora!” her mother’s voice rang from downstairs. “Get ready! We’re going out!” Arora blinked. Going out? Where? She dragged herself off the bed and shuffled to the mirror. The girl looking back at her had the same tired eyes she carried every morning, like she spent the whole night running from something only her dreams knew about. She sighed. Her mother barged into her room before she could ask anything. “Why aren’t you ready yet?” her mother scolded, pushing a dress into her arms. “We’re late!” “Late for what?” Arora groaned. “For the party.” “What party?” Her mother hesitated. That was never a good sign. “The… uh… the Chamberlain’s party.” Arora froze. Chamberlain. As in Jonathan Chamberlain, the billionaire businessman who practically owned half the city. His house was a palace, his name was everywhere, and his family was known for throwing the kind of parties only the rich and powerful were invited to. “Mom,” Arora said slowly, “why are we going to the Chamberlain’s party?” Her mother avoided her eyes again. Another bad sign. “You’ll see,” she said, forcing a smile. “Just get ready. Wear something… elegant.” Arora’s suspicion grew, but she didn’t argue. Her mother rarely asked for things like this, so she simply changed into the dress — a soft cream-colored one with lace sleeves and a ribbon around the waist. Her crimson hair made her look like a bright flame in a sea of pale fabric. “Beautiful,” her mother murmured. “Your father would’ve been proud.” Arora’s chest tightened at the mention of him. “Yeah… maybe.” They left the house and drove across the city. The closer they got to the Chamberlain estate, the larger the houses became, until they reached a gate so tall it looked like something out of a castle. Guards in suits stood outside. People in shining cars drove in. Everything sparkled too much. Arora already hated it. The car rolled to a stop. Her mother exhaled deeply, straightening her dress. Arora stepped out and froze completely. The Chamberlain mansion towered over everything like it swallowed the sky. Chandeliers glowed through tall windows, green lawns stretched endlessly, fountains sparkled under the sun, and people dressed like royalty walked up the marble steps. Arora felt like she was trapped inside a movie set she didn’t belong to. “Mom…” she whispered. “Why are we here, really?” Her mother didn’t answer. Not yet. They walked into the mansion together. The inside was even more dramatic — long hallways, silver mirrors, giant paintings, music coming from a live orchestra, people laughing like they owned happiness. Arora felt small. Barely noticeable. A tiny flame in a golden storm. She stayed close to her mother as they entered the main hall. Everyone was looking toward the center, where a large decorated stage stood. Her mother stopped walking. She turned to Arora, grabbed her hands, and said quietly: “Sweetheart, listen to me.” Arora’s stomach twisted. “When we go up there… don’t be scared, okay?” “Scared of what?” Arora whispered. Her mother hesitated again. Her hands trembled slightly as she held Arora’s. “They’re announcing something today.” “What something?” Her mother bit her lip. Oh no. No no no. “Mom, what—?” “The Chamberlains,” her mother said softly, “want you to marry their son.” Arora didn’t breathe for a full second. Then two. Then three. “What?” “It’s an engagement announcement,” her mother whispered. “Your father made a promise years ago. Before he died. I only learned about it recently. We must honor it.” “Honor it?” Arora nearly choked. “Mom, I’m seventeen! I can’t get married!” “It’s not a real marriage yet,” her mother said desperately. “Just an engagement. When you’re older—” “No.” Arora stepped back. “No, absolutely not. I don’t even know the guy!” “He’s the Chamberlain heir,” her mother hissed quietly. “This is a blessing! This will change our lives, Arora! Please don’t make a scene.” Arora wasn’t listening anymore. Her heart pounded so violently she could feel it in her teeth. Her father’s voice echoed in her mind again. It’s okay. It’s okay to dream of strange things. But this wasn’t a dream. This was a nightmare. Someone suddenly spoke into a microphone on the stage. “Ladies and gentlemen! Thank you for joining us today! We are honored to announce the engagement of—” Nope. Nope. Nope. Arora didn’t wait to hear her name. She turned around— And ran. Just like Alice. Just like someone who realized she was about to be forced into a life she didn’t choose. The hallway blurred as she pushed past people, ignoring confused looks and angry whispers. She found a back exit. She ran down the path outside. She didn’t stop even when her legs burned. She ran all the way home. ⸻ By the time she reached her house, her lungs felt like they were on fire. Sweat stuck to her forehead. Tears she didn’t remember crying dried on her cheeks. She didn’t go inside. Not yet. She walked past the house instead, toward the back—toward the garden that stretched wider than most people expected. Her father had built this garden long ago. White flowers, tall grass, tiny pathways—everything here reminded her of him. Behind the garden was a thick forest. Dark. Quiet. Overgrown. She always avoided it. But today… Something moved in the bushes. Arora froze. A shadow. A shape. Something small, fast. Something that felt strangely familiar. She narrowed her eyes and stepped closer. “Hello?” she called out softly. No answer. Then it ran again. Not a normal run—more like a quick hop. A small jump. A flash of movement disappearing between the trees. Her heart skipped. “What the—?” She followed it without thinking. It was dumb, yes, but something about that movement tickled her memories—like she had seen it before. In her dreams. Her feet brushed through fallen leaves as she entered the forest. The air felt colder, thicker, almost alive. Branches curled above her like long arms. Shadows stretched across the ground like they were trying to whisper secrets. “Where are you?” she murmured. Something rustled again. She stepped toward it and found herself standing in front of a huge, ancient tree. Its trunk twisted upward like it had survived hundreds of storms. Roots thick as ropes spread across the ground. And under the tree— A hole. A deep, dark hole. A rabbit hole. Arora’s jaw dropped. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” She crouched beside it and stared into the darkness. No way. No actual way. “Damn,” she muttered. “I feel like Alice from Alice in the Wonderland.” She leaned closer. The ground crumbled slightly. “Wait—” Too late. The dirt gave way beneath her feet. Her body tipped forward. “NO—!” She fell. Down. Down. Down. Darkness swallowed her. Her scream echoed— Then vanished.