Well, here’s something a bit different. I don’t usually like to write in first person, or present-tense for that matter, but I went out on a limb with this random idea I got. Enjoy, comment, and follow this blog if you like what you see here.
ALSO: I, quite literally, wrote this in one sitting. (Okay, minus the bathroom breaks, but come on that doesn’t count. A guy’s gotta go when a—never mind…)
I slowly lift up my heavy eyelids. Grey light from behind the thin curtain lets me know that morning is here. I jolt in surprise as it hits me that my alarm never went off. I flip over on my soft mattress, grabbing my iPhone from my pathetic little nightstand, which is really just a crooked stack of three shoeboxes. I unlock my phones screen, and to my horror- it’s 8:02. Less-than-appropriate words flash across my frustrated mind, and looking at my inbox I see that I have one new message. “Alys im at todds wher r u” the sloppy text reads. It’s from my cousin, Shalyn… who I was supposed to meet at Todd’s Coffee -for coffee, of course- 30 minutes ago. Slapping the phone down on my cardboard nightstand, I throw myself out of bed. There’s no time to figure out why my stupid alarm didn’t go off, I have to get out of the door! Lucky for me, Shalyn’s one of the most patient people I know, and because of that I think I’ll still be having coffee this morning. Do I have time to shower? No. Text her back an apology? No. Hell, I don’t have time for anything; I slept every bit of it away! I take a quick look at myself in my tall mirror that I have leaning against the wall. Could I just run out of the door now? I’m not wearing anything but short-shorts and a spaghetti strap tank top, my long brown hair sticking out in 50 different directions. Ha! I might as well show up to the coffee shop in a chicken suit. Even worse, my black eyeliner and eyeshadow that I forgot to remove the night before is smeared around my eyes, making me look nearly like some form of undead horror.
Rolling my blue eyes and sighing in frustration, I start to walk toward my dresser, which, like the rest of my dimly-lit apartment, is in complete disarray. Just then, I notice something strange. It’s so small I have to squint to see it, but it’s there alright… an inch long crack. I almost start to laugh-what did I expect? I got this thing at some hillbilly garage sale when I was in Louisiana last month, not some top quality mirror outlet or wherever mirror-people seek out their fancy mirrors. But then I notice something even stranger- the crack is…am I going crazy? No, quickly I realize my eyes are not decieving me this time-the crack is growing! Slowly, the crack goes further and further down the tall mirror. I stand there, mouth open like I’m some sort of mental patient. The strange crack snakes its way to the bottom of the mirror, and stops with a small *tink*. Then before I can say “What the-” the glass of my cheap mirror suddenly shatters like an explosion, sending reflective shards at me. I scream, expecting the jagged edges to dig into my tender flesh. The sharp pain I anticipate doesn’t hit me, and I whirl around to see that the pieces either stuck into the wall, or lay on the ground. It was as if they just went through me. Shocked, I spin back toward my broken mirror, (how much bad luck am I going to get out of this?) which doesn’t help at all. To my total bewilderment, a strange black abyss is where the glass used to be. It’s swirling around, like the inside of some sort of tornado made out of tar-black smoke.
A second later, some of the darkness forms -almost like a misty version of clay- into a shadowy figure that springs out at me. I scream in panic as the strange form wraps around me and everything goes black. I scream even louder as I feel like I’m falling down some black hole that has no end. My skin feels like I’m being buried alive in ice cubes, and I start to shiver so much I can’t even scream for help anymore. I feel tears start to run down my trembling face, but then the darkness around me starts to fade away. I can barely descry three shadowy figures, and as it clears up more I can see a table, chairs, dishes… and the darkness disappears completely. Looking around while wiping the tears off of my face, I see that I’m seated at the end of a long, grey table with three ghastly looking figures. If I wasn’t so shocked, I could’ve screamed (again) and picked up something to throw at them. Instead, I just sit there in the creaky, wooden seat, shivering in the cold while the three things stared at me. Looking at the table, I observe that the grey paint is flaking off. Dirty-white teacups are before me and the three…things, and a teapot of the same color sits in the center of the debilitated table.
“Dear, please! Help yourself to some tea, you precious thing!” I jump in my seat as one of the things speaks in a raspy, female voice that reminds me of my grandmother… except much raspier, like the thing had just ate broken glass for breakfast and washed it down with a glass of razor blades.
“Tea…help yourself…precious thing…” echoes the one to my right, this ones voice sounding like someone whispering loudly, if that makes any sense. They all are wearing ripped up black robes and hoods, blacker then you could imagine. The one that spoke to me first has a gray face, and a nose that’s almost as long and as pointy as a banana. She (if you could call such a thing a “she”) has sunken eyes that resemble almost impeccably little black marbles. Her rotting teeth stick out like the worst overbite I’ve ever seen, her tongue and gums just as black as the clothing they wear. I can barely make out a face on the one that sits to my right, though. All I can see is a broad, sharp toothed smile and two glowing white eyes. The third one, to my left, I instantly recognize as the thing that came out of my broken mirror frame. It has no face, no features. Just a black cloak with an empty hood as if no one was wearing it at all. Nervously, I speak up.
“Uh…uh…” embarrassing, I’ve never stuttered before… “Where am I? What happened? Who are you?” I ask, shivering as the icy wind hits my bare arms and legs.
“Oh deary, you are in Mithlok.” Answers the old one.
“Mithlok…Wr’ailki… realm of the wraith…” the smiling one chimes in.
The third says nothing, but I can feel it staring at me, as if it had eyes. I look down at myself, my skin has turned a pale white and goose bumps cover my skin.
“Alys, deary! You really must drink your tea! You look like you must be freezing!”
No kidding. But how does she know my name? Whatever. That’s only one of many questions I want answered.
The faceless one floats over to the tea pot and its invisible hand picks up the large teapot. It floats over to me, and pours tea into my cup as I watch nervously. It floats back into its seat. I pick up my cup, the old one motioning for me to drink it. Looking into the small cup, I see that the tea is black as pitch. What a surprise. What is with these things… these wraiths, and black? Do I really want to drink this stuff? What could be in it?
“Drink! You poor thing, drink already before you catch cold!” screeches the old one. I reluctantly lift the cup to my lips, and drink. What do I have to lose anyway? I’m already stuck in this place anyway, so if they want to do something to me, there’s no way for me to stop them. Besides… despite how hideous it is, the old one seems kind, motherly even. As the hot black liquid pours into my mouth and down my throat, a strange sensation of warmth and pleasure spreads out my whole body. I feel the cold vanish and the shivering stops. I knock the whole thing back, paying no attention whatsoever to the taste. Setting the tea cup back down on the table, I see something odd. The table is suddenly round. Round? Was it not rectangular just seconds ago? Not only that, the grey clouds above suddenly begin to turn black. Before I can open my mouth to ask what’s happening, fat rain drops start colliding down onto my skin as they pour down from the torrential skies and the howling winds and exploding thunder block out anything I say. Yet, strangely enough I can’t feel any cold as the rain soaks me and the wind blows in my face. The rain savagely beats down on everything, the table, the chairs, the dishes, the wraiths and myself. But funny enough, even within this unexpected storm I want more of this tea, so I take the pot and fill up my cup, the old one smiling at me. I take another drink, and when I finish I see that again something had changed. Instead of sitting on the gray ground, our table was on top of the black storm clouds. The three wraiths sit motionless, and more wraiths step out of the clouds and take seats at the large, round table. I stare, as wraiths of different sizes and forms- all wearing the black cloak and hood, of course- fill the table. One sitting straight across from me stands up, and it surprises me to see he’s much taller then all the others. It speaks, in a booming voice that near drowns out the whooshing and thundering of the storm clouds.
“Friends! At last we have gathered here! Finally, we can discuss those things that must be discussed, see things that must be seen, hear what must be heard. The mists of change grow thick, and now we must turn our gaze unto the very horizon that But first… a welcome to our guest, the one we have chosen to come here!” it spoke. Wait…I’m the chosen guest? Why me? Before I could ask, I feel the gaze of every single one of these things which call themselves wraiths as their ghostly heads turn toward me. Silence seems to saturate the air despite the torrent which rages on all around us…
“Yes. It is her.” he speaks, and I try not to be disturbed by the sudden solemn tone that is suddenly present in his voice, a sudden change from his triumphant booming just seconds ago.
“M-me…?” I squeak pathetically.
He nods, slowly and fluidly, like one would expect from such a ghostly creature.
Boldly, I stand up among them all, and shivering still I ask the question that has been secretly gnawing at the inside of my brain since I was sucked into this strange, dreamlike place. “Uhm…sir?” I am not sure even of the gender, but it seems masculine. “I…why am I here? Can I-may I go back to my home? …please?”
The response chills me, and any thoughts of morning coffee leave my mind when he says…
“Young one… you have been brought here not even of our own choosing, for truth. The mists of change bring you to us, and we recieve you. And…if you do go home…your home will not last. It will be destroyed!”
TO BE CONTINUED
Drew Otteson 