THE DREAM TRAVELER
Even Before I opened my eyes I knew I was in danger. I stirred at the soft crunch of footsteps drawing closer. My neck was crooked at a painful angle, and I opened my eyes. Thin stones loomed out of the blue-black fog. For a strange suspended moment, an image of crooked teeth came to mind, and then I saw them for what they really were. Gravestones.
I tried to push myself up to sitting, but my hands slipped on the wet grass. Feeling my way through the vapour, my knees of my jeans soaked up dew as I crawled between the haphazardly placed graves and monuments. A ghoulish howl drifted down from above, and while it sent a shudder through me, it wasn’t the sound I was most frightened of. The footsteps trampled over the grass behind me, but whether they were near or far I couldn’t tell. I knew instinctively that I had to hide, but I was disoriented; it was too dark to see clearly, the eerie blue fog casting spells before my eyes. A shout of pursuit cut through the mist, and I hurried my pace. In the distance, trapped between two walls of spindly and overgrown trees, a white stone mausoleum glowed through the night. Rising to my feet, I ran towards it.
I slipped between two marble monuments, and when I came out on the other side, he was waiting for me. A towering silhouette, his arm raised to strike. I tripped backwards. As I fell, I realised my mistake: He was made of stone. An angle raised on a pediment, guarding the dead. I might have smothered a nervous laugh, but my head collided against something hard, jarring the world sideways. Darkness encroached on my vision.
I woke in a hospital. The ceiling was white, the walls a serene blue. The room smelled of lilies, fabric softener, and ammonia.
“Oh Clary at last, baby” a familiar voice whispered, and the person behind it flung herself out of her chair and at me “Oh, sweetheart”. She sat on the edge of my bed and drew me into a suffocating hug. “I love you” she choked into my ear. “I love you so much.”
“Mom.” The mere sound of her name scattered the nightmares I’d just pulled myself out of a wave of calm filled me, loosening the knot of fear in my chest.
“What . . . happened to me?” I asked
Mom dragged her fingertips under her eyes to dry them. I knew her well enough to know she was only trying to appear self-composed for my benefit. I immediately braced myself for bad news.
“You’ve been missing . . . for eleven weeks.” She said while squeezing my hand.
“What happened to me? Was I . . I couldn’t bring myself to say the word. Kidnapped. It was so clinical. So impossible.
“The police are doing everything they can to piece together answers.” She put on a smile, but it wavered. As if she needed something to anchor herself to. “The most important thing is that you’re back. You’re home. Everything that happened - it’s over. We’re going to get through this.”
“How was I kidnapped?” the question was directed more at myself. How did this happen? Who would want to kidnap me? Had they pulled up in a car while I was leaving school? Stuffed me in the boot while I was crossing the car park? Had it been that easy? Please no. why hadn’t I run? Why hadn’t I fought? Why had it taken me so long to escape? Because clearly that’s what had happened. Wasn’t it? The shortage of answers pecked away at me.
“What do you remember, honey?” mom asked “detective Charles said even a small detail might be helpful. Think back. Try to remember. How did you get to the cemetery? Where were you before that?”
“I don’t remember anything. It’s like my memory . . .” I broke off . it was like part of my memory had been stolen. Snatched away, with nothing left in its place but a hallow panic. A feeling of despair swayed inside me making me feel as if I’d been shoved off a cliff without warning. I was falling and I feared the sensation far more than hitting bottom.
