The Chokehold of Death
From the moment of our birth, death has never left us. It creeps behind our backs—waiting for the moment when our breaths can no longer meet the demands of our lungs. It is ever invisible to us, treading in careful footsteps. It seeks solace only in the corners of our eyes and the shadows we cast.
It does not want to frighten us, and yet, we continue to chase it—capturing and studying every trait it reveals. Still, no matter how many philosophy books or religions attempt to explain its nature, nothing can ever prepare us for its life-altering touch.
Such truth is no exception for our main character, Daphne, her mother, Rima, and her older brother, Dennis. Ever since the loss of their father, Carl, the dynamics within their household have shifted. Rima functions on autopilot as she moves through her chores, Daphne takes charge of their chicken layer house, and Dennis assumes the role their father once held. He picks up the tasks his mother leaves behind, ensures everyone is well-fed, and protects the family from harm and sickness.
Perhaps this is simply what the eldest feel compelled to do. They fill the cracks their parents leave behind, doing everything they can to keep the family moving forward—even if it means sacrificing their childhood wonder in exchange for maturity. They bury themselves in responsibility despite sadness and exhaustion creeping over them, especially in Dennis’s case.
Though grief remains tangible and ever-present in his daily life, Dennis’s only outlet lies in his duties—caring for the home and everyone in it. There are no tears, no outbursts. As Daphne articulates, “Carl had always been a shower of light in their small, isolated home.”
Nosebleeds and Dreams
When the moon calls upon our nightly rituals—skincare routines, comfort reads, or long-awaited shows—our bodies begin to relax. Eventually, we surrender to the temptation of soft mattresses and pillows. In doing so, we expect pleasant dreams or, at the very least, rest to prepare for the next day.
Yet sometimes, our minds betray us. They conjure visions that make our brows furrow even in sleep. We wake distraught and restless, as if the night we spent lying down was instead spent battling ghosts.
But has a nightmare ever left physical marks on your body—so much so that even daylight can’t erase its effects? For Daphne, this is her grim reality. She suffers from nosebleeds and alarming weight loss—enough to worry her brother. Still, there is no clear explanation. The only possible cause? Her recurring dream of a man holding an empty coffee cup.
How strange could that possibly be?
Yet this mystery may hold clues to who Daphne truly is—and what she is meant to bring into their world.
It reminds us to stay awake to the messages our dreams whisper. Let us welcome sleep not just for rest, but for revelation. For dreams may reveal the truths we fear to confront. Life, after all, is not a straight path with one clear answer—it is full of puzzles, codes, and clues, much like Daphne’s dreams.
As Daphne herself reflects:
“I think my dreams are not simply dreams or a manifestation of stress. It’s like someone—or maybe something—is trying to say something to me. Although it all seems impossible and fictional, I feel like my dreams are going somewhere. And I need to find what that could be.”
by Charlou Mabanta