Corinthian Roses

Chapter Three: A Gentleman Scientist From My Past Adventures

I was in an unconscious state of sorts, of this I was aware. I felt my body thud to the ground and I lay unmoving. William's voice issued out again.

Say, doll... you don't look so good. Please, sis, be careful, don't get yourself hurt. I shouldn't have ever done this to you.

I tried to move but my muscles were unresponsive. Minutes, maybe hours wore on and I lay in the silence of my own prison-cell of a body. I felt rain beginning to fall from the sky and I became chilled.

From time to time I heard echoing sounds in the distance much like the chopping and felling trees. There must be someone around, I thought, but I am incapable of signaling my presence to them. Eventually I fell asleep, unable to do anything else, my mind shutting down.

...

When I feel myself coming to a state of awareness, I notice an encircling warmth around me. I will my eyes to open, and this time they obey. I feel far too sore to move at all.

I lay in front of a campfire pit, the flame leaping harmoniously in a warming blaze. There is a fur pelt of some animal wrapped around me. I have a thin vest on.

So someone did find me, I realize.

My mind very quickly leaps out of the security I'm feeling when I remember the past events that had recently befallen me. The radio— whether it was real or a figment of my dying mind, it most definitely felt real. I settle that there is no way I can sort through the situation I underwent and might as well take it for face-value.

Presently I notice the sun sinking below the horizon, a dull sphere trudging down below the sky to sleep for the night.

I am not tired, so I sit in front of the fire grieving over my situation. I wonder when the man or woman who saved me might return. I'm aching for company currently, desperate for some presence to take my mind away from the strife it is undergoing.

The fire begins to undulate and shrink a bit. I notice the small pile of split logs aside the firepit and rise to place one on the flame. When I get up my body pops in stiffness and soreness. I begin to notice an incessant hunger in my stomach.

As the blaze begins to suck in the log, I notice a patter of footsteps walking toward me, almost reluctantly, it sounds. I do not turn around.

"S-so, you're awake now, then?" The voice says behind me.

I nod my head. "I don't know what happened, but thank you for coming to my aid."

" Of course." He clears his throat and begins walking again. He sits across from the firepit and I take in his appearance.

He has skin that is a bit pale, dark circles around skeptical eyes, an amicable look on his face, and a kempt shock of thick, black hair atop his head. There's something very familiar about him, and I feel it on the tip of my tongue.

"Er-hem... do you— do you remember me, Willamette?"

He knows my name. I know him from somewhere.

"You— Oh! I remember you now! My, you look so much different now. Oh, it's been so long— Wilson! Wilson Percival Higgsbury, it's you!!" I beam a welcome smile.

He smiles and his posture begins to relax. "I was quite afraid you wouldn't recognize me! That'd be a tragedy. You were one of my favorite people— back in the real world."

"Back in the real world? What's this odd talking?"

He shakes his head. "Oh, Willamette, you're in a terrible place, a terrible situation. I don't know how to begin to say it—" he pauses. "But, it's so odd. Of all the people that could've come here, you did."

"Wilson Percival, I'm going to need more clarification."

"You could very well be a figment of my imagination, Willamette. I've been alone here for one year, eleven months, twenty-four days, and I'll be damned if I've not lost my mind permanently at this point."

"I'm real, I promise you."

"That's what I'm afraid of, actually. Afraid that you are real, and that another innocent person has to suffer in Maxwell's prison world."

"Maxwell?"

"He's the damned demon that brought me— and now, you— here. This isn't the earth anymore, Willamette, it's another dimension, another world, something separate from conventional reality. Or so science might indicate. I call it the Constant— always is, always has been, always will be. There is no way to escape a constant."

My mind begins to swim. "Are there others here?"

"No. Me and you. Unless you count the King Pig or the Bunnymen or Krampus."

I frown. "Surely, you are joking now, Krampus! Bunnymen? Ha!"

"I wish I were."

My face grows dim. "Oh, Lord. Oh, dear."

He tosses a log on the fire and speaks. "I think it would be best if you discover most of this strange world with your own eyes. If I tell you all now, you might not want to face it. But there's no choice."

"This is mad. No wonder you weren't sending me letters and never once paid me a visit. It was odd, as if you fell off the face of the earth."

Noticing the painful realism of the metaphor I made, I cringe. "And you did. Ugh, I didn't mean the crude joke. I always wondered about you..."

Wilson Percival Higgsbury and I had a... history, of sorts. When I was twenty and giving demonstrations at a local science hall, I met him. He was an interesting person, over-confident and zealous, intrepid, and an absolute man of science. He had introduced himself to me: "Good day to you, madam. I am a gentleman scientist, and your work I find quite intriguing. May I talk to you?"

Oh, he was a pleaser all right. He had a big smile and a lovely outlook on life. Science was the essence of his being, much like mine.

"Wondered about me how?" Wilson disrupts my recollection.

"Well, just how you were. Your wife must be worried sick, you have disappeared so long!"

"Willamette, I never married. I never found the right person, I guess. Er, well, really, I was waiting for someone else to return..."

"Oh," I say bashfully. "I didn't either. After William died, I shut myself away. Besides, most men I find... unorthodox."

"Sounds just like you. I'm sorry about William, I had no idea! How did he die, wasn't he going to San Francisco?"

"He was. His train crashed into a circus tent. He died."

"So sorry, what a waste." He stands. "We'd best be heading to bed. You can use my tent, I have a sleeping bag; I'll camp at the fire."

"Well, thank you, Wilson. I'm not very tired yet, but I've things to think about. I'll tire myself eventually."

As I look into the blank dark of the growing night I feel shivers spread throughout my body. Something about the dark is so off-putting— like it's dissecting my mind. I let out an involuntary yelp as I see neon white eyes open in the far reaches of the night.

Wilson puts a hand on my shoulder. "It's alright, it's normal. You'll get used to it."

"But, it's terrifying! What's out in the dark?"

"The Darkness," he says, and leads me to the tent without further elaboration.