RAYA BANKS

In my dreams, I was standing on the pier, waving to the woman in red.

It was the same every night, we walked hand in hand, me in my white taffeta dress, and my mother in her crimson cotton gown, until we reached the edge of the dark wood pier that was slick with something I did not want to suspect was blood.

“Lady Artemis!” I gasped awake, wiping the thin sheen of sweat that had broken on my brow and wondering why my nightmares were different this night.

My mother had not boarded the boat, instead, I had caught the glint of metal in her hand, the...