I was upstairs in my own home, and as I slowly opened the door of my father's office, I saw a man standing at the window in front of my father's desk, but it was too dark to properly see. All I saw was his glowing eyes glaring at me. However, he then lit a lantern he had with himself with his fingertip, with magic to be more precise, and started walking up to me. I was frozen, too scared to move, hearing his wet footsteps get closer and closer to me until we are face to face. I was then able to get a good look at his face, a face I will never forget. 

He had long dark purple hair, black irises, and was wearing this subtle smile. He then gave me the lantern he held and just left. I was relieved that he left, but then it hit me—wet footsteps... I looked down to the floor and found them... And there was blood. So much blood. All I could do was scream at the sight of it, of them. I cannot help myself to describe them, yet this image remains burned into my mind. This image that i will never forget, that will haunt me for the rest of my life. 

I dropped to the floor and tried to wake my mother up. I shook her, screaming, MOM!, at the top of my lungs, but she was already gone and she was so cold... so was my father, and all I could think was, This must be another dream, right?, but it wasn't; it was all real. I didn't know what to do; there was nothing I could do, all I could do was cry and lay with them. I just laid with my mother and father, I laid with them. I just wanted to be with them, even though they already left. It wasnt till their bodies started to decompose, that I realized what I had to do.

I eventually got up, looked into both my father's and mother's eyes, and closed them. They were gone. I then started getting them out of this room. I struggled, and having to do this was unimaginably painful, but I had to do it. I knew that even back then. I got them both down stairs as gently as possible and then outside next to our house, then I grabbed a shovel from the garden and started digging. I started digging a grave for the both of them; that's all I could think of doing for them; it was like I became a Puppet, that couldnt think or feel. All I knew was that I had something important to do. I poured all my strength and focus on digging; mindlessly, I shoveled the dirt out of the ground; I completely lost track of time, of my surroundings, of everything really. 

After hours of digging, I was done, but the difficult part was yet to come. I looked at my parents and quickly realized what I had to do again. I started with my father. I thought of all the time we spent together. Yes,  these few years we grew very distant and didn't spend a lot of time with each other, but I remembered how the both of us used to have fun while we traveled, how he would always show me magic, how he would even try to teach me a little about it, as if I understood anything back then. All these nice memories we had, just for it to end like this. I closed my eyes and pushed him in the grave. Just thinking about it puts me back on the verge of tears. I then had to push my mother in. Again, all of these memories started rushing me—all the time we spent on our travels, all the uplifting songs she sung whenever I was feeling sad, and how she was always there for me whenever something was on my mind. All of that was just suddenly gone. I then again closed my eyes and pushed her in as well.

I then dug back the grave and put up a stone slab, as a tombstone. After that I picked up all sorts of flowers and decorated the grave. It was done. I sat down in front of it, just looking at them and released all of my bottled emotions. I cried my ass off and remained there for the rest of the night. After everything that had happened that day, I still like to think that they remained with me, atleast for that night, for my birthday