I only stared, as my mother pulled away, at the boy from my art class. I couldn't look away. Especially when he smiled at me and dashed into an alley.
I had the urge to follow him but pretended like I didn't see him.
"Can we get going?"
"Do you know who I am? Do you remember me?" My mother asks, grabbing my hands.
"I... do, but I don't."
"I understand," my dad says, "You'll understand better later though okay? We'll explain everything when we get to the Fortress."
"Must you call it a fortress? It is too beautiful for that. Palace suits it," my mother says turning to my Dad.
"The Emerald Fortress it greater than any term we have in our vocabulary," he says.
"Let's go then," I say, then add, "please."
My Dad and mother looked at me questionably and confused. He didn't expect me to react this way. I couldn't explain why. I only took a step forward to express that I didn't want to talk at that moment.
We started walking again and I looked at my ghost mother. She was fading. I could see right through her now. I turned my head down and kept walking. It was an awkward silence because no one knew what to say.
Something still felt off to me. I couldn't put my finger on it.
Then we were there and I couldn't stop looking up. The fortress was so tall it also hit above the clouds if there was any above it. I smiled at the sight. It was too much to try and assess how long it took for this to be built. Then I thought that what I've seen recently was magic or science I couldn't understand.
Maybe it was much more simple than I thought.
The inside was even more captivating.
Some servant scurried about. Bowing to their King, carrying clothes and other things around. Some were dusting the ledges that were installed on the walls and they dusted the pictures that hung on every wall. How many worked here? The detail put into the structure was so intricate it seemed fake. It made me feel small and lame with my plain features and freckles that helped no one in any way. I sighed, with relief and sadness.
I felt all my worries drift away. My sorrow of being stuck in one reality gone. I wanted to dance through the halls and shout as loud as I could to see if I could make it crack. I knew what my mother was talking about when she said it was too good for the title of a Fortress. I observed every painting with portraits. I expected to see the old-fashioned wigs and the round cheeks that they always had. Instead, they were realistic. Every detail couldn't be noticed.
Who were the artists that took my breath away? Who was the artist that took the time in his life to show off their work? Were they scared at first, or did they know they'd be accepted? I sighed again in pleasure and sadness.
"Your mother did most of these. That's where your artistic brain came from. I am not creative," my Dad comments, chuckling to himself.
Then I notice my Mom. She was barely visible now. I started to wonder what was going on.
"Why does she look like that," I ask my Dad even though she is standing right there.
"She isn't really here," all I hear is sadness in my Dad's voice.
"Where is she?"
"Stuck in another dimension." It was the only thing he offered as he sped up, striding with a purpose.
