Book Covers

Chapter 12

Charlotte O'Brien

I stood in an unknown place with my bare feet planted firmly on an unfeatured flooring, and my pajama pants that I fell asleep in rustling against my ankles. My fingers reached out, stretching to find anything to distinguish where my dream had taken me. Usually my dreams consisted of memories, like my seventh birthday party that only Ric came too, or the time our family spent a whole day in the Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris, smelling the incense, listening to the prayers, and trying find to a reason we were put on this Earth. My dad fell asleep and dreamt that he was a frog with a top hat. This, though, wasn't a memory at all, it was like it was in a space in between, like in between walls or in between worlds. There was no scent to catch, nothing to taste on the air, nothing to touch within arm's reach. I wanted to scold my subconscious, tell it that tomorrow was already going to be stressful enough with my meeting with my school counselor without questioning myself about the reasoning for this dream where absolutely nothing was happening to me. I would much rather cry that no one came to my birthday than be completely and utterly alone with my thoughts. My functioning senses were frenzied, searching, probing to find anything to perceive.

I felt an almost movement in the air, like I could tell that someone else was with me, feel their energy. I got the same feeling when my dad tried to sneak into my room to scare me awake, or when my mom walked into the room wearing her slippers that make no noise. I felt it in the place that wasn't a place, and knew that I wasn't alone. "Hello?" I called, my voice loud in the emptiness and lack of sound. "Who else is here?"

There was a gasp from around five feet in front of me. "Who was that? I'm not alone?" The voice had a southern accent, a deep one that lengthened the letters and made the words sound like melted butter. It was young, male, and hopeful, so hopeful it felt ready to burst with it. This was a teenager that had been alone for what felt like forever, for so long he couldn't even imagine the possibility of someone else. I would have to congratulate my subconscious on the impressive character development, especially because I couldn't remember ever hearing this boy's voice before.

I felt a smile lift my lips. "I'm Charlotte. Do you know where we are?" I turned my head, my ears searching for any other noise except for the feverish breathing of the boy. Maybe my dream was just taking a while to form, like me and this boy could suddenly be at the county fair and he could be a handsome carny that juggles knives and flaming torches for a living. All this would make more sense than the placeless place, but there was no change, no scents, sounds, or objects other than Mr. Lonely.

"You're Charlotte? Charlotte O'Brien?" His voice was excited, but also hesitant, like he was scared I would run off. As if that was possible.

I felt my brow furrow in confusion, but brushed it off as just more dream nonsense. "Present and accounted for. Mystery Man-"

"Tyler!" He burst out, like a whale breeching water. "My name's Tyler." I imagined him with nothing else, no possessions or things to own, nothing but his name. He held on to it because it was the only thing he had.

"Okay, Tyler, where are we?"

"The Darkness," he whispered, his voice as small as a newborn kitten and just as weak. "Sometimes I float, just caught up with nothing to touch, nothing to feel. Other times, I'm standing, like this, but always the Darkness."

"Weird dream," I whispered, my voice becoming loud in the emptiness.

"Dream? You're dreaming? That's how you got here." I heard the friction of the fabric of his clothes, like he was crossing his arms or putting his hands in his pockets.

"How did you get here, Tyler?" I took a step in his direction, my foot making a soft thud on the floor.

"I-I'm dreaming too, Charlotte. That's how we both got here. Dreaming, yeah." He sounded like he wasn't convinced of it at all, like he was trying so hard to make it real, I didn't address it.