Single Status

Last night I stood in the middle of a bar as the crowd swarmed around The Animator and myself. Observing others is always interesting, watching who does what and their reactions to surroundings. Catching a couple out of the corner of my eye brought a momentary flashback to what feels like a past life. I watched as one pulled the other close and let the room know that they were together. That’s something I can remember from previous relationships.

It would seem normal to reminisce about missing the feeling of belonging, but the feeling that flooded over me was relief. A sense of satisfaction settling on my mind; I don’t belong to anyone and there’s no need to explain my actions, reactions or decisions. Following this thought around my mind, I traipsed through forgotten memories of former boyfriends. There were the needy guys, the controlling guys, and the obnoxious, sweet and weird guys. Pick a guy and I’ve dated someone that fits the mold.

Lately I’ve been going through ex-boyfriends to ensure I’m happy with the decisions I’ve made. Newbie was the first in this experiment, which happened by chance. It was one night when he drunk dialed me looking for a piece of ass. Upon arriving there was some rolling around under the sheets. It was like being a teenager again: Things were bumpy, awkward and not completely hard. At one point I started to laugh because I could picture how this would end up on virtual paper. He left early the next morning and we haven’t spoken since. I suspect there will be no future encounters unless we bump in to one another in public.

This experiment with ex-boys is a test of my single status. Am I truly single by choice, or is it caused by the bitterness that has been growing over the past ten years?  After observing a lot and experimenting a little I’m leaning towards the first, though this is not my final conclusion. It’s almost as if I’m missing the dating gene. Others seek love. I seek coffee. Some people are hoping to get married and have a child. I plan to work until I am forced to retire or die.

The only problem with my single status remaining permanent is that the people around me will eventually fade into the crowd and vanish. Single means just that, in the end you stand at the finish line completely alone. In some oddly comfortable way this does not sound depressing or unusual in my head. Not to say at some point I won’t give in and date some seemingly perfect person that comes along. Though I can guarantee that nothing will out last my ninety-day dating habits.

Tales from the Train: Severing Ties

             Trains are often depicted as sources of intrigue and seduction. Brief encounters between strangers that can last minutes or days.  The doors slide open and slews of strangers enter and begin their search for an open seat. A sigh of relief calls from the hydraulics as the doors are released, returning to their stationary positions.

            Andrew was one such stranger, entering the train at Baltimore’s Penn Station and making his way down the isle. The train was relatively full considering the time of night. Overhead the muffled voice of the conductor mentioned something about a food car and the next stop.

            “Is this seat free?” Andrew asked.

            The gentleman being addressed broke his stare in to the night to look up and nod. Andrew placed his backpack overhead and settled himself. The man that shared his seat was clearly well to do, his attire that of a Wall Street Tycoon. A black tie rested on a muscular body that had been wrapped in a white button-up. His long wool jacket was a classic black, much like his sleek black hair that was perfectly combed in to place.

            Dark leather gloves drew in Andrew’s attention as the fingers inside clutched a mahogany box. With golden hinges and an intricate design containing flecks of gold leaf across the top, it was hard to ignore such a box.

            “Traveling for business?”

            The gentleman continued to look out at the passing darkness, giving a small nod to politely acknowledge his counterpart. Andrew fidgeted in his seat, curious as to what was concealed within the box. Twenty minutes past when his tongue got the best of him.

            “A gift?”

            “Pardon me?”

            “The box. A gift for someone?” Andrew probed.

            There was a moment of hesitation, “A pistol that belonged to my grandfather. I traveled to D.C. to bring it home.”

            Andrew nodded, not satisfied. He was momentarily distracted as the conductor once again mumbled through the intercom,

            “Next stop, Aberdeen.”

            Andrew continued, “Why’d you pick it up in person?”

            “I need it for a special occasion.”

            The man’s eyes remained focused on the night that whipped by the window. Occasionally a light would appear or the branch of a tree that had grown close to the tracks.

            “What kind of occasion calls for a gun?” Andrew smirked, a ticket agent knocking his elbow from the armrest as she called for tickets.

            There was almost no hesitation, “I’m going to kill my wife.”

            Andrew laughed at this poorly constructed joke.

            “No, really. What’s the gun for?”

            “I told you. I’m going to kill my wife.”

            Andrew began to look around for an official, realizing this was no joke.

            “Not only her, myself as well. She’s taken a lover due to my travel. I’m going to give her what she has been asking for and deserves.”

            “You can’t kill your wife,” there was panic in his voice.

            “I’m afraid it’s as simple as pulling a trigger.”

            The train suddenly came to a halt. The conductor’s voice came barking through the intercom once more and passengers scurried towards the doors.

            “Pardon me.”

            The stranger moved passed Andrew in to the isle and walked quietly with the line of people on to the platform. Andrew frantically looked for anyone that could help. The man stood on the platform as the train began to exit the station, adjusting his gloves and renewing his grip upon the box that would deliver death to an unsuspecting wife.

            “Wait! We can’t leave yet.”

            “Take your seat sir,” advised a ticket taker.

            “You don’t understand. The man that was sitting her is going to kill someone.”

            “If he’s off the train, he’s not my problem.”

            A stranger’s confession had left a scar upon the mind of one person that would last forever. Such encounters are rare and often insignificant. This one instance resulted in a stranger’s inability to hold his tongue, but even when we know the truth there is often little that can be done.

            Watch for additional tales from the train – nothing’s over until the destination is reached.

            This is dedicated to Jeffrey Label.

Starting Over Yet Again

5.
Starting Over Yet Again

       An orb of polished silver stood in the middle of the vast gray room. Alex lay nearest it; inside his head a short film seemed to be playing itself through interrupted distortion.

Alex watched the orb appear out of thin air, rolling along the blank floor; coming to a stop with a gentle bump against his foot. He picked the object up, examining it closely; it was different from most orbs. This particular one seemed to be composed of something from the Mortal Realm. It was solid, and heavier than it looked to be, the outside was smooth: Alex could make out his bent reflection in it.

Alex rolled the orb around in his hand looking for something to identify its purpose. The tiny sphere began to shudder as if it were trying to distract Alex’s prying thoughts, a small rip forming in the outermost skin of the silver surface. A black glow radiated from within: Alex thrust the orb from his hand. The air rippling as the orb directed itself to the cold floor. The clink of a pin touching down was heard as the orb made contact, Alex’s eyes turned black as darkness consumed the room.

Alex felt like he was treading through water, his body animated in slow motion. A shuttering of images flashed against his nearly closed eyes. It seemed the effects of the orb were taking a toll on everyone within the First’s chamber.

Anneliese listened as Alex paraded he and Jen’s impressive wizard lineage before her Council. She could see Philip in the distance behind Alex with a hand in his pocket. A glint of silver caught her eye as Alex stepped back. Anneliese lost the sound of Alex’s voice, her interest becoming consumed by the object of Philip’s affection. The mouths of everyone in the room suddenly fell open at whatever it was Alex had said. Philip jumped to his feet, his face red, that earth-colored hair remaining firmly in place atop his head.

Anneliese kept her sapphire eyes firmly attached to Philip’s hand that remained in his pocket, now tightly gripping whatever he was concealing. Anna grasped Jen by the shoulder smiling broadly, Anneliese focusing on Philip again, in time to witness his hand ripping from the pocket. Speed made the object nearly invisible as Philip tossed it before anyone could focus their attention on him properly. Silver flew through the air towards Alex. Anneliese and her fellow Council members all made to shout defense curses… it was too late.

The room seemed to be liquefying. It was difficult to see, everything was beginning to run together. Sounds of those around Anneliese crying out for help; burst of furious light coming in black… red… black again. A crimson light overtook the chaos, beaming through the blinding air from multiple directions, cut into pieces by the blur that was consuming their eyes.

Anneliese was taken from her feet, a heavy force attacking the back of her knees. Cries faded out, replaced by a tingling in the back of her head; dropping to the floor Anneliese felt the searing pain of the circular gray podium as it cut into her forehead.

“Melissa.”

Jen’s chest burned, rage bubbling inside her: Feelings of contempt and betrayal consuming her as Alex revealed his living relative. Jen made to stand up as a thin strip of light produced itself between she and Alex. The sight, silence sweeping over the room, distracted everyone. From it dropped an orb: A silver sphere that bounced a few times before rolling against Alex’s foot where it halted.

The orb was cracked in several places as if it had been slammed against something with such force that no mortal could have been responsible. Jen’s emotions retreated momentarily back into her blonde head. Alex gazed down as a vision intruded upon Jen’s mind. Light burst from the top of the orb as Alex bent to retrieve it.

Without hesitation the orb swallowed Alex and the others in a swirling mess. Not a scream for help, or fear-drenched eye was to be seen. Such a sudden and unexpected reaction on the orbs part was a surprise to say the least. Jen stood at the center of a vortex that pulled and stretched everything in the room until it was left blank with the gray light that came from nowhere.

Jen was left alone in the First Council’s desolate chamber. Silence hovered around the freshly emptied room. Thoughts of Meg danced around Jen’s mind. The vision of Meg and Alec inside Alex’s personal chamber was all she could focus on. What was happening, what had just happened, it was connected to Meg in some way; Jen knew this.

Jen’s mind clouded as the toxic light that had swallowed the others returned, aiming itself in her direction. Jen fell to her knees, her mind filling with a static that was incomprehensible. There was a loud sucking sound as if a wind tunnel had suddenly sprouted about her ears. The silver orb taunted Jen from the center of the room: Light emanating from its round top, illuminating the fog colored room. Only the timer of a bomb could have been more sudden, the orb self destructed into a thousand razor sharp pieces; a symphony of rain as they crashed upon the floor in waves. The Council Chamber once again was the victim of forced silence.

Anneliese reached for the stand that had so brutally attacked her when she lost her footing. Gripping the edge of the semi-circular stand with her pale fingers, her feet again standing proper to the floor. A thin red line covered the upper part of her forehead beneath that still tightly pulled blonde hair. Pieces of the twist Anneliese had formed her hair into had given way in all the commotion. Her overall appearance was in disarray jacket pulled back over her shoulders; not a site often seen with the amount of control Anneliese extracted over herself.

Anneliese’s fellow Council members were in no better shape. Zara’s fall had been broken when she landed upon Som; unfortunately his nose took the better part of the impact. Mortal wounds were rare for wizards and the sight of this much blood made them all uneasy. Wizard battles usually resulted in death, not bloodshed; that was a mortal and demon attribute.

Nastron looked better than the rest. He had fallen flat on his back, not allowing for anyone to slump over him. Ashlynn’s blonde hair had some how been caught beneath her hand in the descent to the floor, a large chunk of it remained there now that she was upright again.

Anna felt semi refreshed from her catnap, having only slumped back in her chair. Vectoria was not so rested. Philip had fallen against her, crumbling two of the legs on the small wooden chair beneath her. Philip was gouged in the chest as the splintered wood clawed at him. Vectoria could feel a large lump on the back of her head where she had impacted the floor.

Through it all, Jen was the only one that appeared to be completely untouched. Other than the fact that her hair was wind blown about her face, she appeared unharmed. Jen sat upright in the rickety chair, not having fallen out of it to begin with, her knees still tingling from a fall that had only happened in what must have been her imagination; though it was still vividly present. The memory was clear, but it felt as though she hadn’t lost consciousness.

“Is this one of your parlor tricks, Alexander?” Anneliese shouted, rage filling her crackling voice.

Alex pulled himself from the floor. A flaming red imprint left on his back where he had cradled the silver orb that was now scattered about in pieces.

“You think I did this?”

Anneliese smoothed her untidy hair,

“Ashlynn, Zara, take the girl and examine her thread,” she ordered.

Jen’s eyes grew to twice their usual size as the two unnaturally similar blonde witches rushed upon her.

“Som, Nastron, take Philip.”

“Take me where?” Philip asked, suddenly fearing for his life.

“To examine your thread,” Anneliese snapped, as if this hadn’t been obvious.

“On what evidence do you have the right?”

“I have the power to do as I wish as long as it is for the good of the Council.”

“Come,” Zara instructed, her voice more monotone than the expression on her face.

Jen rose to her feet, Ashlynn grabbing her by the arm. Jen was led into the gray depths of the chamber behind the wooden chair she had been sitting in, glancing viciously over her shoulder until Alex was no longer in sight.

“ALEXANDER!” roared Anneliese.

Alex had somehow lost himself as they rushed Jen away, ignoring Anneliese’s first two pleas for his attention. Alex turned to face her just as an explosion of green light erupted behind him. Spinning around to see the cause, he found Nastron lying on the floor: His face black as ash, his hair and clothing singed. Philip thrust his fist forward once more as if making to hit Som from a considerable distance. Faster than a blinking eye, an orb of green formed around his clenched fist propelling itself through the air towards Som. Throwing himself aside, Som, toppled over Alex; the two landing in a heap on the floor.

“I will not have my thread pulled by a second rate witch who would rather see a mortal heading the Council than a true bred wizard.”

With those words a black portal tore into the room beside Philip. It dripped at the edges as if it were slowly melting, massive globs of black landing on the ground, sizzling as they did. Philip rushed head first into the ominous portal leaving behind only a tar colored puddle as it quickly closed behind him.

“Do you know how long it took to get rid of the last mess that was left behind when a portal was conjured out of rage?” asked Anneliese, not wanting of an answer; rubbing her forehead out of frustration. “Alexander, your punishment still stands. If this girl is whom you say, as I assume she is, then I will expect you to help her on her way. You are however… banished to the Mortal Realm until another hearing can be scheduled to determine your future within the wizarding community.”

Anneliese was harsh, but even she seemed to have a hard time administering the sentence. Feelings and personal thoughts were never to be placed before law; that was her belief. Alex turned to leave, expecting a portal to jump up behind him to allow for a quick exit; none of the First would want to gaze upon a banished wizard.

“One more thing.”

Alex turned back.

“I don’t want anyone finding out about Philip not taking over as the Head of Council. The upheaval in Terra is already nearing an uncontrollable point with radicals. I don’t need Accadia falling apart as well,” Anneliese wasn’t making a request, but a final order. She drew a circle in the air with two fingers a few times, opening a portal for Alex to exit through, taking some satisfaction in his disgrace.

Alex was welcomed by silence upon exiting the portal; the Council Chamber was drenched in a mocking silence. The Council members that had been left behind during his hearing had all gone about tending to their own affairs, not one curious about the outcome of the trial. Alex was respected, but never had he been liked. A quick thinker and a harsh ruler, Alex traded the friend card in order to provide stability.

Alex examined the rows of pews that lined the isle before him. He took in the mortal craftsmanship of the dark benches, their intricate grooves and smooth curves. Alex shifted to look upon the stand where he had formerly presided over the Council. He came to the realization that this may be the last time he would ever step foot in this place. There was no way to be sure he would recover the powers he lost to Meg, and scheduling retrials with the First seemed to take an eternity; Anneliese wasn’t interested in changing her mind, convinced it showed weakness. Truth be told, it was a possibility, even a probability, that Alex would age and eventually die in the Mortal Realm before his case was revisited by the First.

Alex released a sigh weighted heavily with sadness and loss as he pushed against the great wooden doors that guarded the entrance of the Council Chamber. This was the first time that the doors had not responded to his presence and parted at his approached. The weight of the doors was more than Alex had known, requiring all his mortal strength to pry them open enough to push through. The massive doors pulled shut behind Alex, a final shove out the door to complete his humiliation. Much to Alex’s surprise, slumped on the floor was an unconscious Melissa.

Melissa could hear Alex’s voice coming from somewhere in the distance. Lips made of stone; unable to call back to him, left Melissa in silence. Something began to press at her sides, shrouded in darkness, Melissa’s neck lulled about. Pulling from a semi-lucid place like a fish emerging from water, Melissa clasped Alex’s arms, gasping for air.

“What happened?”

Melissa stared at Alex, confusion embracing her. The chair beside her was familiar, but where were they? Melissa’s mind furiously connected the pieces of the puzzle to restore her blurred memory.

“Meg… was here.” Melissa recalled her twisted smile.

“What are you talking about? Meg couldn’t have been here, she doesn’t have the authority; this is a protected realm.”

Opening her mouth to dispute, she paused.

“I dunno,” confessed Melissa.

She remembered experiencing the shock of seeing Meg when she emerged from within the Council Chamber. Melissa tried to gather her thoughts, Alex noticing the similarities in how she was feeling and how he had felt after the silver orb had exploded during his hearing. Melissa appeared disoriented above all else.

“Where’s Jen?” Melissa asked, trying to focus her thoughts.

“The First has her.”

“Why?”

“They’re going to pull her thread,” replied Alex, pulling Melissa to her feet. Unintentionally holding on far longer than was necessary, an awkward silence occurring.

“Why?” Melissa squeaked, her eyes shifting to the ground.

“They have to make sure I’m not lying… or wrong.”

“Wrong about what?” Melissa asked, her mind searching for what Alex was really thinking.

“I’ll let her explain when they release her,” said Alex, heading down the corridor to escape the tension that was building.

Melissa followed a few steps behind, her arms folded as if trying to provide some sense of security. The white corridor was empty, except for the black tiles that were integrated into the floor. Echoes radiating from their steps as they pattered across the floor made the corridor feel endless. A tendril of gray light suddenly appeared in front of Melissa. Alex turned to see the portal unfold itself. He stepped around it to where Melissa stood.

“Go ahead,” he said, motioning Melissa forward.

She stepped into the portal; Alex following close behind her, afraid it would close before he could pass through. Alex exited the portal, pausing to look around.

“Melissa?” he muttered, glancing around his bedroom.

The doorknob clicked as someone turned it from the other side. Alex turned to face Melissa, knowing that Jen was most likely still busy with the First. Alex was nearly toppled by the shock that coursed through his body when he saw her standing in the doorway.

“Meg?”

“You were expecting someone else?”

“Well… I wasn’t expecting you,” Alex confessed.

“Then it must just be your lucky day.” Meg strutted into the room, a knee length green dress seductively draped around her slim figure.

Alex suddenly realized that he had jumped through time once again. Pulling at the collar of his white shirt he checked for the burn. Holding his eyes closed before peering: There it was, the red and black burn left when Meg had extracted his powers. Falling back onto the bed, Alex momentarily forgot Meg was in the room.

‘This has to be a spell,’ he thought.

“I know this must be a bit of a shock for you, but it’s for the best.”

“What?” Alex piped.

“It’s for the best. Me taking your powers and you becoming my… captive.”

“That’s not what you said.”

Meg paced around the foot of the unmade bed.

“What are you talking about?” Meg looked puzzled, even through her beauty.

“This is you. YOU DID THIS!” Alex shouted, rising up.

Meg shoved him back, sending Alex head over heels across the bed that ran diagonal, slicing the bedroom into uneven sections.

“Watch yourself little man, or you might just wind up dead,” Meg growled, her nostrils flaring.

She spun around in a huff, her dark hair trailing behind her as the door slammed itself shut.

‘This is wrong, this is all wrong,’ Alex screamed inside his head, his eyes darting around the room that wasn’t truly his.

Meg had been more concerned about the love they had once shared above anything else when this had happened. This wasn’t the past, and if it was then there was something seriously wrong. Looking around the fabricated bedroom, Alex noticed that everything that had been missing when Meg had originally imprisoned him was still present. This appeared to be part of a memory that had been poorly reconstructed, perhaps even invented to make up for unknown gaps.

“I just need to get myself out.”

Alex paced the room for a moment, needing a clear mind to devise an escape plan. Whenever his eyes were closed, or he was distracted for a split second, he found himself somewhere he hadn’t been.

Clenching his eyes tightly together, Alex thought of where he needed to be, with the hope that it would persuade the charm he was under to release him. Opening his frustrated and fearful eyes, Alex was still in his imaginary room.

Past the point of being rational, Alex firmly gripped the doorknob, giving it a sharp yank. Meg had been sure to lock the door in his original memory, but it was conveniently left open in this place; perhaps Alex had shifted through time once more. Cautiously he walked into the living room. There was a warm sensation coming from his lip, touching it Alex saw red.

Blood dripped from his face, onto his already stained shirt. The living room looked as if a bomb had gone off. The furniture was on end and in pieces. He had only moved slightly farther ahead in time, to the point directly after his encounter with Meg. Running a hand over his face and back through his almost nonexistent blonde hair, Alex gave out a loud cry of frustration.

He turned violently, throwing an irreverent fist into the wall. The pain that shot through his hand was very real, as was the blood that dripped from his knuckles. Alex wracked his brain trying to understand, then it clicked, the house was an enchantment. It was a very illustrious charm that prevented anyone from locating him. It was so strong that even in a memory it was able to partially block the charm that was tormenting him at this time.

Originally, Alex had escaped the house by discovering the weak spot in the spell located within the window of the dining room. It was unavoidable that at some point the memory would be forced to extinguish itself in an effort to be historically accurate. This time Alex could be prepared in the fact that he knew there was an end point, and it might just be possible to use it to his advantage.

Rushing back into his pretend bedroom, Alex searched. Looking for the only thing he knew could trap and hold an immense amount of power. Knocking bottles from shelves and tossing books to the floor, he searched. The room was quickly becoming quiet the mess as boiling liquids of all colors spread across the floor, burning holes that created a lovely view of the basement through the long slats that made up the floor.

“YES!” exclaimed Alex, holding in his hand a small black box.

He had once held the same box in his hands, preparing for Meg’s attack, but now the box was next to useless in its defensive capabilities. The tiny box was home to a raging storm that would have been enough to temporarily distort Meg’s powers in an effort to attack her first. However, Alex had never managed to use the contents and he wasn’t sure exactly what would happen if it were opened in a memory.

Crouching down on the floor, Alex sat the box on the bed as far away as he could place it and still be able to reach the silent monster. Nervously he pulled at the sides of the box; with ease it slid apart, tossing the black cube, Alex ducked beneath the bed in preparation for the onslaught of events. Clenching his eyes, he listened; there was silence.

Slowly raising his eyes to the level of the box, Alex peered over the edge of the bed. The black cube was shaking and bouncing across the voluptuous comforter. Without warning a small puff of gray smoke erupted from the box, dispersing into the air; leaving the container empty. Alex was embarrassed by his fear of the box that apparently no longer housed any of its former power.

The little box was a prison; Alex was hoping that it could absorb the power left behind after the charm that held the house together dispersed. Retrieving the object that now held his hope, Alex placed it on the windowsill where he knew the house would begin to come apart. All that was left for Alex to do was wait.

Hours passed, the sun seemed to sit in the same spot nestled near the mountaintops beyond the forest. The sky remained a beautiful shade of red with traces of pink and orange scattered about. Alex was growing weary. Tired of waiting for the house to destroy itself, it was time to take control of the situation.

Alex ventured back to his bedroom, looking for the bamboo pole that had freed him from the prison in the original memory. Much to his surprise the pole was not where it should have been. If the pole wasn’t in the room, then there was no way for him to advance time as he had done before. 

Alex felt frustrated by his lack of control over what was happening to him. He hunched down beside the bed, nestling his face into his clammy palms. There was no way of knowing if the charm that had caused him to loop through time would leave him trapped inside the more powerful charm of the house. Blackness enveloped him as he closed his blue eyes, trying to clear his mind.

Unable to stop the thoughts that were pouring over him, Alex pondered what the time loop might hold for him. Where would he end up? Would he be a powerful wizard again, or remain a mortal? Would he wind up in some godforsaken place, or back in his home? Alex’s mind spun faster than it had while his eyes were open. He couldn’t wait any longer, the seconds felt like days.

Throwing his eyes open, Alex peered from between his fingers. This place was new. This was unlike any place he had ever been before. Walls were carved from jagged gray rocks. There was next to no light in this place; black was all that could be seen in the distance. Alex felt cold, lost, and alone.

A pool of silver water sat in a corner. Crawling towards it, Alex felt as if something were pressing down on him with such force that he could not stand up. The clothing that draped him was ragged and rotting. Seams were bursting and barely covering his pale, thinning body. Alex’s eyes faded in and out, draped by his matted hair. The ghostly figure was nothing of the wizard he had once been.

Gazing into the pool a fog shifted, revealing Melissa. She cowered, trembling beside a man that Alex had never seen before. The two of them were covered in fresh scratches and dirt, as if they had gone through a long battle together. The two of them jumped, something crashing beside them. It was impossible to tell where they were, or what it was they were hiding beneath.

The fog returned to cover the silver pool, blocking Melissa from sight. Alex meant to reach for her, but he was unable to raise his arm. The fog slowly retreated once more to reveal Jen. Not the Jen that Alex remembered, but a strong and confident witch. Her blonde hair had grown much longer than he had known, and there was a lively color in her face. Her eyes were a powerful blue that commanded attention. She was different in a way that only time could be responsible for. It appeared as if she were barking out orders. The place she was in had so much light radiating about that everything was drenched in yellow and unrecognizable.

Alex pulled his fading blue eyes away from the pool. He slowly laid himself out on the rough stones beneath him, trying desperately to find comfort. There was no knowing where he was, but Alex knew in this moment he was lost to time.


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The Loop

4.
The Loop

     It was clear to Melissa that something was wrong with Alex. Aside from his gaping mouth, his face was pale, almost sickly. What little hair Alex had was tousled, his blue eyes trapped within a sleepless red.

“You ok?”

“Where’s Jen?” Alex asked, his words apprehensive, eyes sifting over the room.

Alex was unable to distinguish if this was reality. Had he stood before a flaming cyclone with Jen just moments before? There was also the dilemma of not knowing whether or not the present moment was real. Perhaps both were dreams and he was unconscious somewhere.

“No clue. She wasn’t in bed when I got up this morning.”

Jen and Melissa had been sharing a bed since Melissa had moved in two years prior. Not to say there weren’t many nights with one of them on the couch, but Melissa always ended up back in their shared room, the couch had too many lumps to allow for comfortable sleep. Neither had ever thought of converting the second living room into a bedroom. Rather it sat at the front of the house with a worn out piano and cherry wood tables collecting dust, Jen visiting once a month to wind the grandfather clock that watched over the space from the corner.

The room itself was out of place in relation to the rest of the house. With the intricate wall hangings about the massive single-pane window, immense gold leaf mirror above the piano, and the tangerine paint on the walls, this looked to be a parlor for entertaining extravagant guests.

Meanwhile, the rest of the house looked like an overused motel that had been poorly cared for over the years. Not that Jen didn’t do her best to keep things clean, but you can only blow out walls and windows, burn holes in the floor with potions, and put it all back together so many times. Melissa had pondered the untouched room on several occasions. She had always stayed out for fear that there would be some sort of hell to pay if she were to be caught inside.

Alex stared at Melissa; desperately searching for something that would tell him this was real. Melissa felt her face flush, the uncomfortable sensation of being stared at without reason.

“What are you looking at?”

Alex continued to stare, silently examining.

“Seriously, what?”

“Can you hear me?”

Melissa looked at Alex as if he had lost his mind, spoon in her mouth she replied,

“Um… yeah.”

“No. I mean… can you hear my thoughts?” Alex asked.

“I’m not a psychic.”

Alex shook his head, knowing now he wasn’t in a dream.

“Are you sure you’re ok?”

“I don’t know what I am,” he replied. “Can you tell me something?”

Melissa shrugged, her typical response. Her natural instinct was to be difficult with Alex. Though it generally caused an argument, there was a small thrill to be found.

“Has anything happened lately that you can remember, maybe something in a dream? Like… a dream of me dying, or something about Jen… or Meg?”

Melissa rolled the question around for a short second.

“Nope. I’ve pretty much just been having the same old dreams I always have. You know, things like demons and vampires attacking in the middle of the night. No big deal,” she smiled shrewdly.

“Something’s wrong, but I don’t know what. I feel like I’m in a daze… or a spell maybe.”

Melissa’s interest was firmly peaked for the first time during their conversation. Alex noted the gleam in her eye that came from the change in topic. There were traits in Melissa that leaned toward the darker side of magic. Her knack for absorbing information from books, something most wizards were unable to do even after proper training; a small thing Alex was afraid could easily fly out of control.

“What kind of spell?”

Alex hesitated,

“I woke yesterday… maybe it was today. I woke and I was here, alone. I woke up and the sky was red and Atticus’ shop… had vanished… and Jen. Jen was someone else.”

“Alex… you should drink less,” Melissa suggested, quickly becoming less interested at the mention of Jen’s name.

“I’m not crazy, or drunk.”

Melissa gave a half-hearted grin that reeked of skepticism.

“Maybe I am crazy,” Alex sighed.

Then it occurred; Atticus’ shop. If he were dreaming all of this the shop would still be standing.

“We have to go see Atticus!”

Grabbing Melissa by the hand, Alex yanked her from the table and her breakfast. The bowl of cereal jolting from it’s stationary position, crashing upon the floor with a loud slop sound that someone was going to be forced to clean up later. Melissa was drug behind Alex, barley staying on her feet. Stripped pajama bottoms, not the best match for running as they slipped beneath Melissa’s fumbling feet. Alex stopped, the car, the red car he had stolen was still parked in the driveway.

“Get in.”

Melissa threw her hair back to free her face, climbing into the passenger side of the car; fastening her seat belt as Alex peeled out of the driveway. The car bounced wildly as they came down the driveway, well above the suggested speed limit. Skidding into a turn, the car hurdled towards Practical Magic. Keeping his fingers crossed as they came upon the beginning of Fifth Street, the same green sign with the bruised silver pole beckoning.

Alex slowed the car, creeping along the street slowly, glancing at the houses to his left. Someone shuffled past a window; another woman was on her knees in a colorful floral outfit pulling at weeds in her flowerbed. Coming to the block of brick buildings that were like something from another century, Alex was dumbfounded to find the building that housed the magic shop still standing just as he had remembered it. Coming to a stop in front of the shop, Alex and Melissa exited the car.

“But… it was gone,” he cried lowly.

“Looks like it’s here to me.”

“Mel, don’t taunt me right now.”

Alex walked up the cracking concrete steps, grasping the handle of the door. The tarnished handle was cold to the touch. Pushing it open the rusted bell above the door rang as if nothing had ever happened. Stepping into the shop, Alex felt his heart stop beating as he saw who stood behind the counter. Melissa came up the steps behind him,

“Move, please!” she hissed, pushing her way into the store.

  Alex didn’t understand her non-reaction to the man that stood before them.

“You’re… dead,” groaned Alex.

Alex looked at what he thought to be his deceased friend. Atticus looked the same as he always had. His face carved with craters from his days of vampire hunting, a table leg with an unpleasant clawed paw attached to his right knee. His clothing the same worn and dusty rags he always toted.

“Na tha’ I c’n t’ll,” replied Atticus, his harsh accent coming across thicker than ever.

Alex had always had a difficult time understanding Atticus. His solution had been to put a charm on his ears that translated Atticus’ speech into something audible. A charm Alex had been rather proud of himself for concocting at the time.

“No, I saw your body in the back. Amen killed you and left you for me to find. He came for the amulet.”

“Al’x, ya ok?”

“No. No, I’m not ok. I am far from ok.”

“He’s been acting like this all morning,” piped Melissa.

“Yar needin’ me t’ mix ya sumth’n up, Al’x?” Atticus asked, looking concerned, visible even through his worn face.

“I might need you to put me in an asylum,” responded Alex, dropping on the stool that sat in front of Atticus’ sales counter.

The counter itself was as worn out as Atticus. Green paint was poorly spread across brittle wood, chipping in several places around the edges, completely worn off the top; fraying wood exposed. Melissa was wandering about the aisles of tin shelves with their colorful assortment of bottles. A touch of this and that, several powerful mixing ingredients you’d be hard pressed to find even in the best shops of Terra.

Alex often questioned how Atticus came by these rare and nearly illegal treasures. Atticus always had a fanciful story to back up his merchandise, Alex knew them to be lies, but there was no harm that would come from the shops selling of these ingredients. Mortals were only drawn to the specialty items Atticus had charmed and set in a back corner; preventing any of the real powders, potions, and elixirs from falling into untrained hands.

Alex shuffled out of the shop, back to the car, leaving Melissa to continue browsing a collection of antique amulets. Atticus kept a close watch, convinced she would help herself to something from his assortment of treasures. Alex sat in the driver’s seat, doors locked, cupping his face with nervous hands.

“What’s happening to me?” Alex muttered, feeling he was plummeting into insanity.

Alex felt inclined to peel the pale flesh back from his face in an effort to feel the present moment. Amen had murdered Atticus months earlier. Alex wasn’t sure of Amen’s true intentions, but it appeared he was trying to send a message regarding his new surge of power. Amen had left Atticus’ decaying body behind as a warning to Alex, this he remembered vividly. At least Alex thought he could remember seeing the body lying on the floor between the crates of Practical Magic’s storage room. Had that been a terrible dream, and nothing more? Lowering his hands Alex once again found himself out of breath.

Nearly throwing himself from his seat, Alex’s body tightened from the shock. He was sitting in the living room on the green and white-checkered couch that Jen had replaced. Grasping the cushions below him for some kind of support, Alex burrowed his fingernails into flesh of the linen.

“Hey, Alex,” piped Jen, sounding her jaunty self.

Alex didn’t waste a moment, jolting from the couch. Terrifying Jen he clasped her shoulders tightly, knocking the stir stick she had been holding into the boiling cauldron on the table. Familiar flames of orange and blue licking the sides of the cauldron, leaving the wood of the table unharmed. Bubbles of black and yellow excitedly leapt over the scorched rim, sizzling into the air as they diffused.

“Have you had any dreams lately?”

“Like… what?” Jen asked, her face pale; how Alex knew her best.

“Dreams about me dying? Dreams about Atticus dying? Dreams about red skies… tornadoes… Meg?”

Jen was terrified by Alex’s rant. Playing nervously with her hands, she answered cautiously,

“No.”

Alex dropped his head in frustration, squeezing Jen a bit harder in the vain hope that a real response would be issued.

“Where’s Melissa?” Alex asked, needing to have dual confirmation of his madness.

“Who?”

“What?” Alex brought his eyes to meet Jen’s. “You don’t know Melissa?”

Jen shook her head; afraid Alex would topple her roaring cauldron by way of rage. It wouldn’t have been the first time. Jen was surprised, even relieved, as Alex pulled away.

Escaping to his bedroom, Alex locked the door behind him; fetching his prized possession from the rickety table that had been through its fair share of abuse. Solid, untarnished black leather flawlessly composed the cover of Alex’s book. This was no ordinary book of spells, but a compilation of everything Alex and all of his counterparts, a useful tool for any wizard or power hungry warlock. This was not how Alex remembered the book; white marks where the color had been stripped from the leather were missing, or the marks he may have dreamt were missing.

Jen had once poured liquid life on the book in an effort to revive Alex; under the impression he had succumb to death. She quickly learned a valuable lesson about liquid life. Not only does the powerful silver liquid bring wizards back from the grave through their possessions, but it also brings along everyone else that has come in contact with the object and passed on. In this instance, Jen and Melissa had been overwhelmed with a swarm of colorful witches and wizards looking for answers. Alex could recall Jen telling him the story; he knew this had happened. Had Jen found a way to mend the book?

Pulling back the cover with caution, the pages were filled with spells, stories and directions. Thumbing through the pages, everything was in tact. Chapters on devilish poisons, helpful charms, and a few entertaining jinxes. Thousands of pages all decorated in curved letters, some dancing about, fading away, a few that even dripped from their places.

Then something occurred to Alex, he had power. If this was the time before Melissa, then it was also the time before Meg had claimed his powers for her own. Alex looked into the back of his mind with nervous anticipation, picturing his book lifting from his lap and into the vacant air. It took only a second, the spell book of smooth black leather rose into the air, hanging above Alex’s head. Pulling it back to his knees, Alex again turned the pages, searching for something that might explain his predicament. This was one area where the book was obnoxiously helpful. Through an ingenious charm of Trejun’s doing, Alex’s book was able to match the reader’s thoughts to potential pages of use.

The book furiously turned its aging yellow pages. Time Travel blared from in the heading, the letters rearranging themselves; the book’s initial reply to Alex’s unspoken thoughts. Alex ran his eyes down the page; unfortunately none of this seemed to fit what he was experiencing. Sitting the book on his unmade bed, Alex, glanced up. There, sitting upon the blue shelf that was built out of the wall was the Pharaoh’s Eye.

“Come,” Alex commanded.

The colorful wooden headed lifted itself from the shelf gliding gently down to Alex, coming to a rest within his open hands.

“Meg,” he instructed, a flare behind his distant eyes.

A pinhole of light came from the center of the forehead, the wood separating around the edges until a glowing ring encompassed the head; the top lifting back. A misty blue rolled out in flares, Alex lowered his face into the fog. Something that was comparable to breathing beneath murky water enveloped his nostrils, a deep cold pressing at the bare flesh that had intruded.

Opening his eyes, Alex could see Meg. This wasn’t the apartment she had made into her temporary home during her stay in the Mortal Realm. The room was constructed of gray-stone walls, and a wooden floor that looked as if it were moments away from collapsing into whatever was below. From the walls, lengthy tapestries of red had been positioned. They reached from the unseen ceiling, down to the decrepit floor. There were no windows, no self-portraits; if this really was Meg’s home then it was definitely temporary. Never before had she inhabited a place without infecting every corner and crack with her presence.

Dark lived in the corners of this place, a figure emerging with hastened steps. A woman of incredible beauty stepped into the light. Long brown hair gave the illusion of kindness, a face that could kill with a single glance, and two blue eyes that were hard to pull away from. Meg paced around the room through her frustration.

“WHY?” she screeched. “Why is it so hard to do this simple little task?”

Alex hadn’t noticed before, but two servants crouched in the corner at the edge of the darkness. The twosome shook from their tremendous fear of their master. They had patches of long black hair, the rest missing, perhaps from Meg’s angry hand. The skin that remained on the faces of the two servants appeared to be badly burned.

“All I ask is that you bring me the Primary, and you can’t even do that. What’s the point of keeping you if you can’t do anything for me?”

The two servants apologized and pleaded at Meg’s feet in a tongue Alex couldn’t decipher. Clawing at their own flesh through fear and anxiety, drops of blood appearing on the already filth laden floor.

Alex pulled his head from the Pharaoh’s Eye, a blast of warmth attacking his face. Clearly he had traveled back in time. This was a point before Meg had come to the conclusion that the Primary was Melissa. Perhaps this was a second chance for Alex to save Melissa and himself from Meg’s wrath. All he had to do was stop jumping though time when he closed his eyes.

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Orbs & Prophecy

3.
 Orbs & Prophecy

lex lifted himself from the ground, rubbing his hands against heavy eyelids; his head weighing greatly on his shoulders. Blinking his eyes awake, Alex glanced about the room. His memory foggy… to say the least; he remembered the silver orb that had appeared, coming to rest beside his foot. That had happened in the chamber of the First Council, but this was not that place. Alex had somehow arrived home. 

The glass doors at the rear of the house were closed, the wooden slats tightly pushed together to hold off the light. Alex nudged his head out the door; the sky was an unusual shade of red. Clouds were pulled across the murky sky as if being drug along by the nails of an angry hand; the sight was rather unnerving. Red and orange covered the landscape as far as Alex could see, but there was no sun in sight. It suddenly occurred to him that there was no wind, as if the world were holding its breath.

“HELLO!” Alex cried loudly, his voice echoing over the smooth grass of the field. The air rippling as his words somehow became an invisible solid.

No response was returned, the wrinkling of the air a disruptive sight. Alex was very much alone in this place. It was like the world had stopped turning while he had slept. A dense and heavy heat was coming from somewhere in the distance, hot enough that Alex felt the need to shield his face. Running a hand through his hair, Alex realized it had grown long again, long enough that it almost touched his eyebrows. Was he in a memory? 

Rounding the corner of the house, the hollow thud of Alex’s footsteps against the dark stained planks that made up the walkway were all that could be heard. The landscape below the house was picture perfect, blanketed by the red of the sky. The winding little river that wove its pattern across the valley looked as though it had stopped. The trees held their leaves still, the grass holding in a desire to sway. No birds overhead, no cars on the distant expressway. Whatever this was, it wasn’t home. 

The sporty red car that Alex had stolen in a previous moment of desperation was no longer parked in the driveway. However, like a hungry mouth, the door of the garage hung slightly open; daring Alex to look inside. Bending to gaze in at the eerie darkness, his stomach tightened. A strange and sickening fear arose, forcing Alex to run.

Alex sprinted down the road that connected the house to the main street; gravel scattering in all directions. Running as forcefully as possible, Alex made his way towards town. Though his steps were blistering, Alex’s feet made little sound as they beat against the black road that lagged behind. Passing hand painted meadows, parked cars, an empty church, and several tiny houses, not a single person was to be found. 

Sweating and out of breath, Alex slowed to a heavy walk as he arrived at Fifth Street. Pausing for a moment, he looked at the street sign. A tall silver pole, dented in several places, paint marks from car bumpers and dirt around the bottom. The sign itself hung very proper, green with white lettering: Fifth Street. The naming had always perplexed Alex. There were no other main roads in the town, though this particular sign suggested there might be.

Passing the first few houses on the street, having left the overgrown fields of brittle grass and wheat behind, Alex approached a window. There was no one to be seen. The love seats of the first house were empty, the kitchen of the second quite vacant, and the front door to the third tightly bolted. Alex didn’t call out; it seemed as though there was no point. If his voice was doomed to echo into nothingness he preferred to save his breathe. 

Arriving at the steps of Practical Magic, Alex stopped. He examined the lettering, noting the cracked and peeling red and gold that was once so smooth. Atticus, Alex’s most trusted friend, had been scrupulous when it came to painting the sign on the doors. Having done it several times before getting it ‘just right’, Atticus had declined magic in his efforts. 

Alex pushed against the tarnished handle of the door; it trembled, the door staying firmly in place. Though the door remained stationary, it was as if it feared denying Alex entrance. Unexpectedly, the handle ripped from Alex’s hand, the door thrusting open, slamming forcefully against the interior and swinging back. Shards of glass ripped from the door, raining over Alex. Shielding his eyes out of instinct, a terrible rumbling came from overhead. 

As the stoop beneath his worn feet began to shutter, a significant piece of the building’s wooden molding came crashing down from the third story narrowly missing Alex. The aged molding splintered into pieces as it met the steps that led to the door of the shop, the white paint that was crusted over the wood scattered like snow across the searing ground. With a jerk and a shift the entire building shook more forcefully, Alex, leapt from the steps, rolling into the street as an eruption of flames tore through the building. The rumbling continued, like an earthquake in the distance; bricks dislodged themselves, shattering as dust against the sidewalk. 

Pock marks of white appeared as more bricks flew forwards, several more windows shattering in a chorus of shrill shrieks. Like a hiccup from deep within; the building sunk down a foot, the brick face leaning back a considerable distance. Alex, helplessly confused and terrified witnessed a massive ball of orange erupt into the bloody sky, black smoking forming a wake. 

Splintered wood and bits of brick rained down over Alex, who quickly covered his head and coiled his body tightly in to avoid injury. As the scene began to settle Alex lifted himself from the rubble, the dust beginning to settle. 

“ALEX!” 

Surprised and thoroughly relieved, Alex spotted Jen standing at the corner.

“Where have you been?”

Running up to Jen, Alex gripped her by the shoulders.

“Are you ok?” 

“Alex… where have you been?” demanded Jen.

“What?”

“I need your help.”

“I need your help. We have to help-” Alex glanced around at the place where Atticus’ shop had self destructed.

“Alex, what’s wrong with you?”

Alex didn’t reply, staring blankly at the sight. The boards that had engulfed him as the fireball shot into the air were missing. Everything was remarkably clean, the street and sidewalk all but bare. There was no shattered glass, damaged merchandise, or even scars of charring left on the brick walls of the buildings that now stood only to hold open the space where the magic shop had been. Jen seemed blissfully unaware of this. She watched as Alex ran a hand over the tightly packed dirt of the vacant lot.

“It was just here.”

Jen glanced around as if expecting something to make itself known. Alex remained on his knees, knuckles upon the ground. Clearly frustrated, she was hesitant to speak.

“Where’s Atticus?” Alex asked, a somber note on his tongue. 

“He died… you know that.”

Alex looked about the lot where he knelt; thick grass was overtaking large areas, tall flowering weeds appearing.  

“Let’s go,” snipped Jen, gripping Alex by the wrist. In that moment Alex noticed that Jen was different, as different as the lot had suddenly become.

The two of them were swallowed from head to toe by a slender ring of blue. Alex felt his stomach churn as he squirmed in Jen’s clammy hand. He couldn’t feel the ground; the only things to be seen were the rear of his eyelids. As a bitter cold beat against their faces, tears formed in the corners of Alex’s tightly clenched eyes. With a hollow thud they met the ground, Jen on her feet, Alex on the street.

“Where are we?” Alex questioned, gazing about frantically.

A massive wall of fire raged in the distance; touching the mountains on both sides of the city. The heat Alex had felt before was greatly intensified. It felt as if he was getting a sunburn, but there was still no sun to be seen through the mass of red clouds that covered the whole of the landscape. The storm, or whatever it was, grew in the distance. It was expanding in all directions, the intensity of the heat growing with it. 

At the base of the fire: homes, trees, and lawns were bursting into flames before even making contact with the red giant. As they passed inside the cyclone of red the fires were extinguished and all that was left behind were black twigs and burnt out structures.

“What is that?” Alex cried, in shock, his legs feeling weak.

Jen turned her head slowly, as if Alex were out of his mind. Alex stared back at her; Jen’s face was strong, there was no sign of the timid witch he had first met. Strands of long blonde hair whipped around her face, adding to the intensity she was already presenting.

“That’s Meg’s mess,” she replied, shouting to be heard.

Alex had no idea what Jen was saying. 

“Are you ready?”

“What?”

“Are you ready?” roared Jen, irritated.

Alex didn’t know what to do, his mind spinning. Jen held out her hands

“Start the incantation!” Jen saw the blank stare on Alex’s face. “What’s wrong with you?” she cried, her arms dropping to her sides. “Did you forget the incantation? It’s Sambra. Lucen. Octan. Haun.”

“I shouldn’t be here,” yelled Alex, the heat of the flaming storm becoming unbearable.

“Alex, I can’t do this alone!”

“I don’t know what you want me to do, Jen!”

“You have… to do… it!” Jen’s words became muttered, coming out of her in a deep slow voice that wasn’t her own.

Jen’s mouth continued to move, though no other words passed over her lips. Beneath Alex’s feet the ground jumped, ripples tearing through the air similar to the effect he had witnessed outside the house when this nightmare began. Alex ran; he turned from Jen, running with desperate speed. He had to get away from her, from this place. 

Alex felt more confused now than he ever had. He suddenly wondered where Melissa had been in all of this. Why wasn’t she with Jen? Alex could feel his heart pounding, his breaths shallow, sweat forming on his brow. Stopping for air, he couldn’t escape the glare of the red beast in the distance.

Leaning against a building for support, he glanced around what had been downtown. The city had been completely deserted. Empty buildings and abandoned cars were the only figures to be found on the streets. The pavement was soft from the intense heat that was approaching, pulling at Alex’s shoes as he began to sink into the blacktop. Clenching his eyes shut, Alex searched for a moment of solitude. Trying desperately to escape the scene of destruction that was set around him. 

Opening his eyes, Alex was shocked to see Melissa sitting at the dining room table; spoon in hand, shoveling down what appeared to be oatmeal. Blue decorated the sky beyond the window, a bulky bird resting on the back of a colorful lawn chair. There was no sign of red anywhere on the horizon, the grass of the field beyond the house dancing in the summer breeze. Alex was confused. Was any of that real?

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