There is an unseen bridge that connects us from reality to dream.
There is a way to find who is dead, to search for who is alive.
There is a rope wrapping a soul to a body tight until grim reaper decides to break it.
This string, is a thread among y...
"I have seen the dark universe yawning where the black planets roll without aim, where they roll in their horror unheeded, without knowledge, or lustre, or name."
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Charlie stood, gazing at the dilapidated house.
He shivered, as though, cold wind had replaced his spine. The freezing air enveloped the entire body. The multiple layers of clothing could not protect against the deathly cold. He did not feel so until his step reached Madame Trevil's house entrance.
Instead of someone's dwelling, it seemed more like abandoned. The walkway leading up to the house was cracked. Weeds and dandelions poked out from these cracks. Red roses grew wild in thick batches by the gate. Vines formed a twisted maze upon the side of the house, reaching their tentacles towards the roof. The house walls showed black decay by neglect. Splotches of original paint hinted at the house's former prosperity. Cobwebs covered the corners of the windows, tiny black spiders threading towards their prey.
He knocked the door, but it begrudgingly creaked open. A musty, dank order creeped into his nose. The house was dead silent except for the intermittent creaks and moans. Black and brown mold dotted the ceiling in clusters, evident of rain seeping through the roof. He quietly entered the dark living room. Sharp shadows roamed around the room. The sofa and chairs overturned revealing deep grooves on the ground where they used to sit. Wallpaper lay curled on the floor. A large jagged hole dug through the wall stood as though daring any to enter. Picture frames hung off-centered. A misplaced grand bookcase stood in the corner of the room, undisturbed for a long time. Selecting the correct book could reveal a secret doorway into a labyrinth.
All of the objects around him did not distract him from what he looked at after the door opened widely. Suddenly there was a skinny boy seen running through the corridor, his laughter creeped him out. Then another sound came.
"Who's there?" There was a cryptic voice of an old woman from the hallway. "I don't give donations anymore!"
Madame Trevils showed up as an old lady he used to know. All of her hair threads went gray. Her body was stodgy and short, it could be correct that she was under five feet tall. She was dressed in a maroon sweater and knee length black skirt, she used a stick as a companion to walk. "Johnson Boy. What do you want, kid? Lost your ball again?"
Charlie was surprised when she noticed him, they never talked before. "How did you know me?"
"You look very much like Gregory, you know that? Ignorant face, arrogant, and so stubborn," her voice tilted and trembled like naturally how old people sound, but she had this disgusted intonation in every word she uttered.
"My father is not like that, neither am I."
"What do you want, kid?"
"I need your help," Charlie took a deep breath before sharing his illogical problem. "It's my little brother, Jimmy."
"Come in," she welcomed in a scary way, as she just brought him to enter a darker room where the lights were dim because candles did not have their light. There was a round table in the middle of the room, covered in bloody red cloth with black floral lace at the edge of it. A pair of wooden chairs on its surroundings added a creepier accent, as they were just plain black and looked so uncomfortable to have a seat on them. The buffet on the left side of the room contained more distraction, as there were such bizarre collections she had as a messy stack of tarot cards, bluish crystal ball, and several boards that he ensured himself were related to her strange job. "Take a seat. So what do you need?"
"People say you can see souls and spirits."
"Everybody can, kid, believe me."
"Yeah... I do. But I cannot move when I see them." Charlie described what he had in picture of his gloomy dreams.
"What do you mean?" She narrowed her gray eyes on Charlie.
"My brother, Jimmy, is in a coma right now. But I have seen him in my dreams since that day."
"In the dreams, what do you see?"
"Nothing, just pitch black. Only Jimmy. He stared at me like trying to reach me. On the first day I saw him tugged by something from a distance..." Charlie stopped, he slightly heard the laughter of a little boy once more. He had goose bumps along his arms and he could feel the hairs on the nape of his neck standing up.
"Nothing else?" Madame Trevils asked. That stopped the laughter of the boy suddenly, ensuring himself that it was just a fantasy he drowned since the old woman did not seem to hear the noise.
"Ah, I saw a kid. He's swarthy as the darkness itself, like burnt. But his eyes were white bright."
Madame Trevils was suddenly in pause. Her eyes glared with unseenable fear in them. Charlie was not aware until she immediately stood up and reached the side buffet. "I'm afraid I can't help you, kid."
"Wait, why?"
She twisted back and showed him her desperate face. "Your dreams and Jimmy's deep sleep are related. And I wish he could wake up again."
"I know, but what do you mean you can't help?" Charlie showed disappointment in his face mixed up with confusion.
"Because I don't do it anymore," she answered angrily, "I don't take those kinds of cases anymore. Now, off you go," she entered back to the deeper room without any further explanation, leaving Charlie and his questions hanging.
"Wait, what?!" Charlie stood up and followed her without permission. "People said you can handle this! I'll pay as much as I can, I promise!"
Madame Trevils stopped stepping away, she walked back towards him and closer than before, and she whispered, "Money cannot pay the soul that you would lose. The only thing you can hope for your brother is to never — lose — his — STRING." She slammed the door, leaving Charlie alone in her office room.
