I stared at a rosary and flower in my hand.
She said they would help you.
I hoped so, because now I felt isolated and lost. All around me were barren fields where houses once sat. My childhood home, my parents’ house, was the only building standing for as far as my eyes could see.
Alright,
I thought,
let’s start here
.
I entered the house through the screen door that squeaked each time it opened. My father oiled those hinges at least once a week, and the squeaking always stopped for a day or two before coming back with a vengeance before the week’s end.
“Needs oil again, Dad,” I said as I walked in.
The kitchen looked as I always remembered it, neat and clean. My mother saw to that. Same with the dining room and living room - except for the fireplace, that is. A heavy layer of ash lay beneath the grates. Who had been using our fireplace? We never did, my mother and I. My mother refused to burn wood in it. She never told me why.
I bounded up the steps as I did when I was younger, taking them two at a time.
“Mom,” I shouted when I had reached the hallway, “Mom, are you here?”
Nothing. The house remained as quiet as a tomb.
I looked into my mother’s room. Nothing appeared disturbed. My mother’s bed had been made the way she liked it, with the quilted cover over the pillows and tucked in beneath them. I fought the urge to lie down on it, to just rest for a little while, to get my thoughts together.
I went to my bedroom next, opening the closed door. I never left my door open, and my mother respected that. “Just keep it clean,” she would say, and I always did. This time was no exception. The room was spotless, bed made, dresser drawers and closet door closed. Everything looked the same as I thought it would. No, not quite. On my dresser, facing the window, was a paper bird - Brian’s paper bird - favoring its slightly bent wing, the wing still carrying the dirty smudge of my footprint.
I came closer. “How did you get here? I thought I brought you with me.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught my reflection in the full-length mirror hanging from my closet door. It startled me so that I gasped before realizing I was looking at myself.
Or was I?
I looked at my reflection. I had changed. I was younger. I approached the mirror, touching my face. Except now, I saw it wasn’t me. It was the girl who had stood behind me when I visited the paper sky as a teenager.
I gazed at the reflection for the longest time not knowing what was real and what was illusion, and just as I was about to turn away, my reflection began to speak.
“Hi Lori,” the girl behind the glass said with a smile. “Welcome to the neighborhood.”
I jumped back but my reflection held its ground. “Some things you need to know. Are you paying attention?”
“Yes,” I answered weakly.
“Good. First things first. You are a prisoner of the paper sky. You’re not visiting this time, Lori. You are trapped here.”
“I am?”
“Yes, you are. You have been here for a long time. You might think you just arrived but it’s been twelve years.”
“No, you’re wrong. I just fell asleep a little while ago. I’m still dreaming. I’ll wake up soon.”
“I’m sorry to tell you this but you’re no longer in a dream. You never were. The paper sky is a real place. You accessed it sometimes while you slept. Those with the sight get here in different ways. Rosie, for example, can arrive here by thinking of the colors of the sky as she touches the paper bird, the bird behind you.”
My reflection leaned in closer and I saw the mirror expand to the contours of my face. “Listen closely, Lori, because here’s the important part. You still have time to change this. He hasn’t found you yet, but he will, he will soon, and when he does he will make sure you stay here forever.”
My mirror image reached out, the glass becoming liquid around her arm. “The rosary and the flower in your hand.”
I looked down. I had forgotten I still held them.
“Drop them to the ground, Lori. Release them from your hand.”
“Why?” I backed up some more. “Why should I do that?”
“Please Lori. It’s so important that you do what I say. You have more power than I ever had. Part of you, part of what you need to become, is held in your hand. Let them go, Lori. Set them free.”
“I trust you, and I believe you,” I said as I raised my arm to my side and opened my hand. The flower and the rosary fell to the floor of my bedroom.
A bright flash of light blinded me temporarily. I held my hands over my eyes, seeing only spots of white in the darkness.
I squinted at first, but the room seemed back to normal. I blinked and looked ahead. My reflection no longer looked back at me through the mirror.
Am I a vampire now?
I thought. There was a movement close by. I snapped my head to my right. Standing next to me was a deer made of straw. It wasn’t large; it only came up to my waist, and its body seemed to be bundled together tightly, there were no loose pieces sticking out. I was still watching the animal with a wide-eyed fascination when a cat jumped on its back.
The cat was a patchwork of glass, each segment a different color to the one beside it.
The feline proceeded to claw the animal as it would a rug or a sofa. If it bothered the deer, it didn’t show it.
“Don’t do that,” I scolded. “You might hurt her.”
The cat stopped its clawing and sat on its haunches on the deer. They both turned their heads toward me.
I held out my hands, and I think I smiled. I was that happy for companionship of any kind. “What next?” I asked.
They both watched me for a moment longer, and the deer did an about face, looking behind me. I turned in time to see the paper bird lift up off the dresser as if rising on a gentle breeze. It drifted up until it was at eye level, and then it moved forward, its paper wings flapping slowly, passing me as it flew out of the bedroom door and into the hallway.
The cat lowered onto all fours as the deer followed behind. I shrugged and took a step toward the door, when I noticed the mirror had changed. It reflected my daughter’s room, Rosie’s crib resting in its center.
“Rosie,” I said and ran to it. I hit the glass with enough of an impact to knock me back. I saw Rosie shudder in her crib before she lay still once more.
She heard me, my daughter heard me.
I was about to shout her name again when the glass turned black.
He’s looking for you. He knows you’re here
, I heard my voice say.
You must leave now. Find him first. Surprise him. Find him before he finds you. Save us. Save Rosie.
I heard a cat’s meow from the hall, and I knew it was time to go.
“Goodbye,” I said. I’m not sure why I said it, but I felt the word was appropriate. I felt it was the last time I would see my room; I felt it might be the last time I would see my daughter.
I lagged behind my three friends, two new ones, and one I’d known for years.
The bird swooped and glided in the front as I walked next to the deer with her glass passenger perched contentedly on her back.
We advanced through a field that stretched as far as the eye could see. I occasionally stumbled as a twisted root or the stump of a long dead plant caught my foot. I glanced around me from time to time looking for the sentinel of these decaying fields, the guardian left behind to keep intruders at a distance; a scarecrow, meant to keep us away, or perhaps draw us near.
“Where are we going?” I asked, not expecting an answer and not getting one. The paper bird flew on a little ahead of us.
I looked at the deer and cat. “Is my mother here? Charly?”
“Is that you, Dad?” I yelled to the bird circling overhead.
“Will someone please tell me where we are going?” I asked. Still nothing. “Okay, I guess I’ll have to trust you then. I hope you all know what you’re doing, because I sure as hell don’t. I don’t have the slightest idea.”
The trek seemed to last forever. My tennis shoes and most of my jeans were covered in dust and dirt, and my throat was as dry as a desert. I kept thinking that it would be a miracle if we surprised the scarecrow. We were making our way through a vast open area, me, a glass cat astride a straw deer - oh yeah, and a paper bird flying high overhead. We might as well have shot some fireworks into the sky while we were at it.
I was still mulling over this thought when the bird swooped down and hovered in front of us. It fluttered its wings as it faced my two traveling companions. The deer stopped in its tracks and watched the bird. The cat stood up. Its glass tail grew thicker and moved rapidly from side to side. They seemed to be communicating in some manner. Then the earth shook.
Ahead of us, not too far in the distance, the ground disappeared, taking the horizon with it. A great cloud of black smoke emerged from somewhere below. It rose up into the air and as it did, the cloud began to spread across the paper sky, absorbing the many colors as it widened.
I saw its shadow approaching as the darkness took over the day. It swept over us, moving fast. I turned to see black tentacles shoot out from the cloud’s center, moving in all directions. The tentacles plunged into the ground around us and the cloud followed behind until a canopy of darkness surrounded us. Black soot began to fall like snow from above.
I looked at my escorts. “I think he’s found us,” I said.
The bird shook off some black soot and once again flew forward. The deer, with the cat astride, followed and I brought up the rear. The paper sky was now a dark wasteland, above and below, and land’s end grew nearer by the minute.
As we approached the abyss, the deer stopped and the bird flew in beside me. It drifted ahead, looking back from time to time. I guessed it wanted me to follow it, so I did.
The paper bird brought me to where the world ended, and I moved close enough to the precipice to see what lay below.
I was on the crest of a sloping hill of black grass. Beneath me, not far from the hill’s base, the steel mill rose from the ground, huge and ominous, its many brick chimneys belching out thick black smoke. There was nothing else around it: no houses, no cars, just the steel mill.
“Is it waiting for us?” I asked the bird. Its answer was to bank down the hill in front of me.
“I guess so,” I said almost to myself and started down the embankment. I was halfway down before the deer and cat appeared at my side.
“About time you got here,” I said.
A feeling of dread swept over me as I neared the bottom of the hill. It was the feeling of being lost in an unknown and dangerous place without any weapons to defend myself. Not that I would have known what to do if I had them.
Then again
, I glanced at my friends of paper, straw, and glass,
maybe I did
.
The soot became thicker as we reached flat ground, at least six inches deep; it was like walking through a fine snow. It rained down harder on us now too. The bird shook itself off every few seconds, as did the cat, though most of the soot slid down and off its glass body. I did the same, shaking the stuff out of my hair and off my clothes before it accumulated. It didn’t seem to bother the deer however, whose straw was black from hoof to head. Speaking of the deer, I saw that it had grown since the hill. Its head now reached mine.
We approached the mill’s massive front doors, tall and wide enough for an airplane to slip through. We were almost to them when they slowly moved apart from the middle, making a loud grinding noise as they slid.
The inside, from what I could see, appeared to be lit by firelight. The walls emitted a reddish orange glow, illuminating the interior. The paper bird led the way and the three of us followed.
We entered a large hall in which everything - the walls, the ceiling, and the floor - seemed to be made of black steel. I saw a large furnace at the hall’s far end. The mouth of it was open and flames the color of blood danced within it.
Behind me, I heard the doors slam shut with a loud boom that echoed through the empty space.
What now?
I thought.
What happens now?
The bird fluttered its wings and flew forward and I knew that the time was near.
This is how I die. Rosie said I had died and this is how it happens.
I walked toward the flames.
If I should die before I wake, I pray the lord my soul to take.
Something moved in the fire, something big. Flames exploded from its opening. The heat stopped me in my tracks.
A fireball as large as a house wavered in the air in front of the furnace. Then, as I watched, it began to take the shape of a human, a human with outstretched arms, and it lowered onto the steel floor.
The fire receded as it transformed itself and something else took its place, something with the body of a human. That’s where the resemblance ended. His face had two large holes where his eyes should have been and another hole instead of a nose, only his mouth seemed somewhat normal. The long black hair covering his head and shoulders seemed to have a life of its own, each strand slithering snakelike in the air. He wore a red flannel shirt and dungarees that rode up his chest like a bib, fastened by straps that buttoned on each side.
A flame rose from the palm of each outstretched hand. He was tall enough to look down on us, and when he did, he smiled.
“Well now, isn’t this nice? I so rarely get visitors anymore. What a treat!” He brought his hands together and the flame in each extinguished with a loud clap.
“Enough tricks. I think it is time for a proper introduction now that all are in attendance.”
He stepped forward and I noticed that he walked on black hoofs instead of feet.
“You wore boots the last time we met, and you also had eyes and a nose,” I said.
“Ah, Lori. My brave and observant Lori. Others might be cringing in fear, but not Lori.”
The paper bird came to rest on my shoulder as he spoke. The deer and the cat remained immobile, staring straight ahead.
“Oh yes. We must not forget her three companions. I trust the four of you had a pleasant journey getting here?”
“What did you do with Clarksdale?” I asked.
“Inquisitive still, I see. No matter. Your town has served its purpose for now. I saw no further need for it so I made it disappear.” He snapped his fingers. “Poof. Gone. Neat trick, huh?”
“Did you kill my parents?”
“Well now, there’s no beating around the bush for you, is there?” His mouth closed for a moment. A thin ribbon of smoke curled out from between his thin lips.
“A story first. I was sent here a long time ago as a punishment of sorts. I misbehaved, Lori, much as you do from time to time. Anyhow, I was banished to this place long before your kind found it. I grew to like the solitude. I found it peaceful. Then your ancestors came and they brought your town with them. They sought out a familiar setting in an unfamiliar place. Your breed goes back many ages. Some are more powerful than others, but each one found me, much like you find each other. Your kind gravitate to each other.
“You became my playthings for a while. I must admit you fixed the place up, all the colors in the sky, in the buildings, on the ground. None of that was of my making.”
He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a corncob pipe. “Do you mind if I smoke while I talk? It relaxes me.”
A sharp flame shot from the tip of his finger. He placed it over the pipe’s bowl and drew in smoke. “Ah, much better. Now, where was I? Oh yes, those who came before you. They assumed ownership of the land,
my
land, each one molding it more to their liking. Some of you went as far as to create animals of straw and glass, and birds of paper, many birds of paper. That was the last straw, if you’ll pardon the pun. I had enough and made my presence known.”
He took a drag off his pipe and I saw his face change. The holes shrank and, as I watched, eyes and a nose filled in the spaces.
“And so I adapted this human form, a scarecrow you might say. Unfortunately, I can’t do teeth.” He held out his hands. “None of us are perfect, you know. I had to make do with these sharp instruments.” He grinned broadly and the needles, hundreds of them, blazed red. “Fortunately, I lack a craving for food.”
He took another hit off his pipe and exhaled the smoke before he continued.
“As you might have guessed I am not of your Earth, and this place is not of your Earth. Some thought it a land of dreams, some thought it a paradise. Neither is correct. All you need to know is that it is my home, and you, my dear Lori, are trespassing in it.”
He shook out his pipe, and I noticed that the fire behind him became more intense.
“We’re almost done here,” he said as he returned the pipe to his pocket. He looked at me and smiled. “I must tell you that your mother, brave soul that she was, nearly finished me off some time ago. She caught me unprepared, you might say. It took me several of your years to build my strength back. She was a strong one, your mother, I underestimated her.”
He took a step forward. The fire in the furnace behind him grew stronger. I could feel its heat on my face.
“To answer your earlier question, Lori, I had to punish her for that. I had to teach her a lesson.”
He took another step closer. A fierce heat enveloped me.
“And so I took her husband. I didn’t need to go far for that one, right in my back yard. Then, I regret to say, she became even more of a nuisance, so I…well, I’m sure you can figure out the rest.”
“You son of a bitch!” I screamed it at the top of my lungs.
“Such language! I was
so
hoping we could be friends. I suppose not. Goodbye, Lori. I sincerely hope that your daughter will be easier to handle.”
A loud boom echoed from behind me. The scarecrow looked past me and I saw his eyes widen into dark holes once more. I turned to see someone standing at the doorway. He walked toward us and as he neared, I knew who it was.
“Brian,” I whispered.
“Thought you might need some help,” he yelled out.
I heard a strange laugh from behind me. “Ah, the husband arrives to save his lady.” The voice behind me grew louder. “You forget, my boy, you are the weak link in this chain.”
“But,” Brian said in a strong voice. “I’ve brought friends with me.”
A white cloud blew in from the sky outside. It spread across the ceiling before it descended toward the back of the hall.
I turned around. “I did too.”
I placed my hand on the deer next to me and I saw its antlers blaze a fiery red and steel bands now crossed its body.
The bird lifted from my shoulder as the deer lowered its head and charged forward. It leaped high in the air, hitting the scarecrow in the chest. At the same time, the cat sprang onto the thing’s face, its claws sinking deep as the scarecrow tried in vain to pull it off. I heard the sound of wings fluttering above my head and I saw my paper bird, the same one that watched over me, fold into itself until it became a spear that shot forward into the scarecrow’s chest.
The scarecrow howled as tentacles of smoke expelled from his wounded chest. I looked up and saw paper birds, too many to count, folding their wings and becoming missiles which aimed themselves at the scarecrow.
The deer of straw leaped forward again and, as he did so, the paper missiles descended in a blur of motion, striking the scarecrow as one.
The thing howled as talons of smoke released from its core clawed at the air before disappearing. The thing no longer looked human as it staggered back toward the flames of the furnace.
The cat leaped from the scarecrow onto the deer’s back. The deer lowered its head for one last charge, but before it did, it turned to me and I saw myself reflected in its eyes; a light as dazzling as a flame.
The deer and the cat charged into the scarecrow. All three tumbled backwards into the fire.
A brilliant white light enveloped the room, so bright I had to shield my eyes from it. When I lowered my hands, the light was still there - softer now, but there still. The hall had vanished around me. I stood in a field of flowers; above my head, stars of many colors filled the night sky.
And in the light that flooded the ground in front of me many gathered, young and old alike.
Two walked ahead of the others, walked to the edge that separated the light from the darkness, and they held hands as they did so.
“Mom. Dad,” I said as Brian joined me and took my hand.
The two smiled at me, smiled at both of us, and for a moment we stayed that way, locked together, the past and the present.
The light didn’t fade. It closed in around them, becoming more brilliant as it did so, then it left the earth, shooting skyward, until it became one with the colors of the paper sky.
Brian kissed my cheek and I hugged him close.
“It’s almost dawn,” he whispered in my ear. “Rosie will be waking soon, wanting her mom. We should be heading home.”
“Yes, we should,” I said. “Do you know the way?”
“I do,” he answered.
We held hands and began to walk. “Wait a second,” I said.
I went to the object I had seen on the ground. It was a corncob pipe. I lifted my leg and stomped on it as hard as I could. I felt it break apart under my shoe.
“Now you know love,” I said.