Lulu

That purple mist started to thicken, curling in on itself until it formed a silhouette I knew all too well. She stood a few metres in front of me, wearing a white dress that drifted as if caught in some ghostly breeze.

“Mum, is that you?” My voice came out rough, barely audible in the suffocating silence of the valley.

Her face emerged from the haze, full of soft and warmth, exactly as I remembered her when she was alive. She didn’t speak with her mouth; her voice echoed straight ...