Visions of Evil

Bailey

This can’t be real.

My heart thuds against my ribs as my eyes dart around the familiar space. Everything is the same as it was before the fire. The wallpaper, lovingly restored by Dalton, is fresh and vibrant. The surface of the dining room table gleams as though it’s just been polished. Warm yellow light spills down from the chandelier, the crystal beads clinking delicately amidst a backdrop of suffocating silence.

It’s Miss Penny’s dining room at the old Gregory place.

Logically, I know I can’t really be here. Here doesn’t even exist anymore. I watched the flames consume the house, tearing at the old wooden frame with a thousand grasping fingers. The heat was unbearable, and I coughed for weeks afterward from breathing in so much smoke.

So how am I here?

The last thing I remember is going to sleep after coming home from my night shift. So this must be a dream. There’s nothing else it can be. And yet…

I stare at the table, which should be burned to a crisp along with the rest