John Strober: A Short Story

John Strober lurched from slumber, instantly greeted by the ghost-white face of his eight-year-old daughter. She propped herself on the side of the mattress, knobby elbows and all slowly sinking into the comforter. A gloomy expression clouded the once puffy-red of her cheeks in a gray hue, casting her eyes in a radiant sapphire brilliance. Yawning widely as he propped his spine against the headboard, John stole a glance at the bedside clock and dismally noted that it was only six in the morning. “Everything alright, princess?” John rubbed his eyes. “I had a nightmare.” Daisy exhaled with a shiver and paused for a fleeting second. Her eyes never left the floor. “Daddy…what – what happens when you die?” The question lingered in the air. Still groggy and
The sunlight caught against the strands of hair rolling like a golden waterfall down Daisy’s back. "Sweetie…” he trailed off in a sigh. “I want to believe it’s beautiful…like you, but you’re far more elegant.” John warmly rubbed her spine, calming her still shivering fear with little success. The soft silk of her nightgown rolled over his fingertips in a deathly chill. “What happened in your dream, princess? Was it the scary man again?” Daisy nodded, breaths but gentle wisps of strangled air. “I died.” Although dreadful as it was, his daughter’s night terror brought a wan smile to his lips, though it rapidly faded. “Nothing more than a dream, sweetheart.” He brushed her hair, circumnavigating his fingers around her face to cup her chin with a soothing grace. “I had a dream when I was your age, a terror that really persisted-” She looked at him inquisitively, to which he explained, “Ongoing, continuous, never-ending…” Daisy nodded in understanding and he continued. “My grandmother, your great granny Agatha, used to tell me that the best way to deal with night terrors was to bear the pain.” John searched Daisy’s deep blue eyes for a hint of understanding. “You see sweetheart, they’re only nightmares when you’re