Welcome to the in-between

A few days later, I returned home more tired than usual. The gentle slope to the top of the hill and the mouldy flat was blocked for road works. That was unusual. I unhappily took the stepped path instead. I trudged along, under the tall cedar trees breathing in their cool scent. Half-way through, the street lamps flickered. I stopped. It was a bit early for them to light up. The colour was wrong: orange, the same hue as the sunset on the distant clouds. It had been white the other day.

The tops of the stone monuments peeked from beyond the wall, their shadows loomed on the path. Their size and angles did not seem to make much sense. Unease crept into my stomach. A dark shape detached from the shadows and landed in front of me.

I jumped back heart pounding. The dark-grey cat fixed me with curious eyes and meowed. I extended my arm to touch it, but the cat turned its tail and hurried off as if it just remembered some urgent errand. I resumed walking and soon I was in the flat, but the funny feeling did not quite fade. Hoping to wash it away, I showered in the all-plastic unit bathroom in which I could never extend my arms, or properly fit in the bath tub. I went straight to bed and must have fallen asleep within seconds.

I was awoken by a knock at the door. I stood up fully alert. Instead of having disappeared, the earlier unease had developed into a proper knot in my guts. How much time had passed? Why wasn’t Dad home yet? Another knock. Perhaps he had forgotten his key. I forced myself towards the entrance, but before I could reach the knob, the door opened slowly. Anxiety turned into proper terror. I was sure I had locked it. The open door revealed two silhouettes. In the ghostly light of the outside lamp, the scene seemed drawn in black and white, like a manga comic. In the doorframe stood a man and a woman in full Victorian clothes including top hat and lacey bonnet.

The man stepped in without bothering to take off his shoes. Funny how that would bug me considering the situation. It had to be a dream, but it didn’t promise to be a nice one. The woman followed, turned on the lights and closed the door behind her. The light did not help me gain any composure, for I could see my visitors in full detail.

“Good evening,” said the man in a silky voice with dark undertones. “I thought I should pay you a visit to check whether the Herbalist’s report was correct.” Half his face was concealed by the gloved hand reaching for the brim of his hat. He removed it revealing his features.

I took a step back. The woman was to my side, her long dress brushed my bare feet. Drenched in cold sweat, all my instincts urged me to run. But there was no room to back any further, we were all within arm reach. The woman turned to her companion and gave a small nod.

The man was handsome and unsightly at the same time in a way that I could only describe as if someone had mixed up Dorian Grey and his decaying portrait into one. His eyes were dark pits, two black holes sucking my very essence in. He reached out and cleared my messy fringe. My eyes and forehead lay exposed, but instead of recoiling I just stared hypnotized.

His mouth twisted, half of it in an attempt at a reassuring human smile, half of it in a monstrous grin. He could not be human. The thought made me regain control of my own body and I attempted to jerk away, but his hand took a firm grab of my hair pinning me into place.

“Hold still.” He commanded and touched my forehead with the fingertips of his other hand. There was an explosion of terrible pain and I was dragged into nothingness.

I opened my eyes. From the gentle light flowing in, I gathered that it was morning. With infinite relief I found myself lying in bed. I covered my eyes with my arm and breathed in the mouldy familiar air of my room. What a terrible nightmare.

“Good morning, Wanderer.” The soft voice made my heart jump.

Next to the bed, sat on the only chair in the room was the woman from the dream. I stared at her hopeful that the spectre would just dissolve in the morning light, but she didn’t. The woman was young and beautiful, her hair so light in colour it looked silver-white. Her face was like a doll’s and equally inexpressive. She fixed her disturbing purple eyes on me.

“You can call me Amelia. Now get a hold of yourself and let’s start. You’re lucky, few humans have the honour to serve Lord Maxwell ruler of the Eastern in-between realm.”

From: Rina Lewis <[email protected]>

To: Morgan Takahashi <[email protected]>

Sent: 28 October 2003 12:43

Subject: Re: Re:

Got bored of watching The Simpsons. I’ve listened to all my CDs fifty times over. Seriously, this is just the worst half-term ever.

Do you remember how we used to go up to your room with a pile of library books and a few bags of crisps and spend a whole afternoon reading? I’ve got myself a bunch of comics and read them while stuffing myself silly with crisps. It’s not as fun when you’re by yourself :-( Got the third Harry Potter book, it’s my fave so far. And a few other fantasy books, not quite as good. I just love it how they all start with an unsuspecting hero finding out they have magical powers. I could do with some magic now to fight boredom away.