Whispers of Nowhere

Chapter One: Part One

~Eight years later~

Gwen bolted upright in bed, peering at the long, disfigured shadows on her bedroom walls. Realizing that the assortment of knick-knacks cluttering her shelves were the culprits, she settled back against her pillow with a sigh. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she took notice of the moon's pale silver light peeking through the venetian blinds, casting barred patterns on the lavender wall opposite. A warm spring breeze wafted over her from the partially opened window, soothing her until the frantic thudding of her heart finally abated.

Letting her eyes drift closed so that only the faintest glimmer of light made it through her lashes, she frowned. What had woken her from the dream? The recurring nightmare about the large, grey serpent she'd been having for as long as she could remember? Of course, she always woke before the end, before its coils squeezed the breath right out of her, but still... It wasn't until she heard the soft click of a door closing down the hall that she realized what had brought her out of the dream before the worst part could happen.

It looks like dad's home late again. That's the third time this week.

As a curator for the local museum and the town's leading expert on all things mythological, her father's hours were unpredictable at the best of times. Scholars from all over the country sought him out for his expertise in the various religious sects, tending to call him from their hotel rooms at odd hours of the day and night. Because of this, and her mother always travelling on business for the car company she represented, Gwen spent a lot of time on her own. Even though she oftentimes felt lonely, she didn't mind the solitude overly much; she'd always found ways to keep herself preoccupied.

Even so, she couldn't help noticing that her father was spending more time away from home than usual, only home long enough to nuke his dinner in the microwave before taking off at the behest of yet another scholar. She knew there'd been some major discovery recently, but beyond that, she hadn't been successful in getting more out of him on the matter. Only that whatever had been found would take the archaeological world by storm.

A familiar, upbeat ringtone issued from down the hall, blaringly loud and interrupting Gwen's speculations before suddenly cutting off.

"Hello?" Though muffled, Gwen could clearly hear the weariness in her father's voice. He had probably already started nodding off when the phone rang.

There was a shuffling sound, followed by a creak in the floorboards. "Can't you call Miranda? I just got in." A pause, then the jiggle of a doorknob and the soft tread of socked feet as her father left his room. "All right, all right," he sighed, his voice louder as he passed Gwen's room. "I'm on my way. Don't touch anything until I get there."

Gwen remained still, listening as her father descended the stairs. She heard the distinct groan of wood as he settled onto the bench by the front door to put on his shoes, the zip! as he did up his jacket. The front door opened and then closed with a soft click, the key turning in the lock and sliding the deadbolt home. A car engine purred to life, followed by the crunch of tires over cracked pavement. Then only silence.

I wish they'd stop calling on him all the time. Can't they decipher this stuff without him for once? Or better yet, she thought, why can't he just say 'no'? Would it really be so bad to have dinner together, like we used to? It's bad enough mom's always gone—can't he at least be here when I need him?

Rolling onto her side, Gwen pressed both of her fists into her pillow, fluffing it up until it was just the way she wanted it. Brushing back the tendrils of hair that had fallen across her forehead, she closed her eyes, willing her mind to go blank in the hopes of falling back to sleep. It was hopeless. Now that she was awake, she couldn't seem to return to the state of unconsciousness—troubled though it was—she'd been jolted from.