Mikah

CHAPTER NINE

THERE'S A PLACE SET IN MY BRAIN WHERE I MISS GREATLY, BUT I'M NOT EXACTLY SURE WHY OR WHERE IT IS. I CONSTANTLY MISS IT, AND ALL I CAN DO IS FEEL GLOOMY WHENEVER I BEGIN THINKING OF IT.

ALL I KNOW IS THAT IT MUST BE FAR AWAY FROM HERE, SINCE BALLEYHAUNTIS HAS NEVER COMPLETELY FELT LIKE HOME.

I REALLY DON'T KNOW HOW TO DESCRIBE IT, BUT IT CONSTANTLY HAPPENS.

THE OTHER DAY I GOT VISIONS OF A PLACE I DO NOT KNOW, WHAT I PRESUMED TO BE A CASTLE. DOLLS... EVEN A FLAG THAT I DON'T EVEN RECOGNIZE.

OFTEN TIMES, THAT FLAG APPEARS AGAIN IN MY BRAIN AND I TRY MY HARDEST TO REMEMBER WHERE I'VE SEEN IT BEFORE AND WHY IT SEEMS SO VERY FAMILIAR.

BUT WHENEVER I START TO FIGURE IT OUT, THE FLAG DISAPPEARS FROM MY BRAIN AND I WILL NEVER SEE IT UNTIL THE VERY NEXT DAY. AND THEN THE PROCESS REPEATS, MAKING MY BRAIN GO CRAZY EACH AND EVERYDAY.

Olsen looked down at me and the sheets of paper, smiling a wry smile that I knew was real.

"Very good. Continue on, boy," He encouraged, "I know for a fact you want to go talk to Phoebe and Nora more than anything."

I nodded, and began to write as I were before, this time, quicker than before.

IT'S ALMOST LIKE A DREAM, AND I CAN'T GET OUT OF IT, NO MATTER HOW HARD I TRY.

THE ONLY THING I CAN DO IS HOPE I WILL GET RID OF THESE RAPID IMAGES, ONCE AND FOR ALL.

Looking up at Olsen, I gave him the look as if I were finished writing. I was, matter of fact.

"I'm finished," I said.

He looked at me, and then back at the papers that I had just been writing on.

"Good, now boy, do you need a drink of water?" Olsen questioned.

He almost seemed to be true, but I just went with the flow, I guess.

"Yes, please." I answered.

He nodded, and turned towards the back of the room, and then came back over to me with a glass of water.

"Now drink," Olsen told.

I gulped down the entire glass. Honestly, I didn't know that I was this thirsty.

"Thirsty, eh?" He questioned.

I nodded,

"Yes."

"I'm glad, now write."

What?

"You... you just said that if I wrote some more, which I did, I would get to stop." I said to Olsen.

He laughed, shaking his head.

"Really, Angus?" Olsen asked, "You expect me to let you take a break after writing for what, fifteen minutes? You'll be writing for thirty minutes. No exceptions."

I began to feel frustrated, he lied to me.

"Bu—"

"No buts!" Olsen exclaimed, "Start writing again, now!"

I began to write again, but this time, I was frustrated. More than usual, but that's not the point.

THERE WERE RAG DOLLS AND A MEDIEVAL TOWER AND A FLAG THAT I DIDN'T EVEN RECOGNIZE. ALL I KNEW IS THE FACT THAT I MUST BE IN A CASTLE, A MEDIEVAL ONE, AT THAT.

SHOTS FIRED AT THE FLAG, MAKING HOLES APPEAR ALL OVER IT. AND THEN THE ENTIRE SCENE WENT BLACK. ONCE I OPENED MY EYES ONCE MORE, I WAS IN A DARK ROOM WITH SEATS THAT SEEMED LIKE PEWS.

I WALKED THROUGH THE ISLES, AND BEGAN TO REALIZE THAT THE OBJECTS IN FRONT OF ME WERE A SILVER SWORD AND A SILVER CROWN.

I PICKED UP THE ITEMS AND WAS SHOCKED TO FEEL HOW BULKY THEY ARE, AS WELL AS HOW SHINY THEY WERE.

BUT THEN THE ITEMS BEGAN TO DISINTEGRATE IN MY HANDS, AND SUDDENLY DISAPPEARED.

THEN, MY ENTIRE WORLD WENT DARK, AND I WAS SHOOK OUT OF MY DAZE BY PHOEBE STAGG, WHO BEGAN YELLING MY NAME TO GET MY ATTENTION—

I pushed the papers into Olsen's view, and watched for his reaction over everything that I had written so far.

I did in fact write a lot, and if he made me start writing again, I think I might as well just scream inside his ears, the loudest I can.

He nodded, as he pushed his glasses up his nose and began to lean back in his chair. began giving me a look that all old men give young lads whenever they are trying to decipher something.

"Will you be writing tomorrow?" Olsen asked.

I knew what he wanted me to answer, but I wasn't sure what the future held, and I doubt I would have as much motivation to write tomorrow as I did today.

"Yes," I spoke softly, "If I have enough motivation, that is."

"Oh, you will." He reply.

Then, he pushed me out his door, as he plopped the old copy of his book into my hands, and pointed towards the direction of the living room as well as the library.

"Now go on, pal, go read and talk to those lovely lassies," He started, "And let them know I need to talk to Phoebe in a couple minutes, alright?"

***

I walked into the living room, and told Phoebe that Olsen needed to talk to her. She gave me a look as if to ask what about, but I shook my head, having no idea at all.

Once I sat down beside Nora as Phoebe walked up to the doors of Olsen's office, I could tell the two of them were quite nervous on what it could be about. Namely, I think Phoebe was worried he were about to kick them out of Morley's, an action that he would never do unless need be illegal situations were taken place.

"How was your sleep last night, Nora?" I questioned.

She looked at me, and her blue eyes began to sparkle once more.

"It was alright, thanks."

I didn't know what to think, I felt so bad. I could tell she was nervous, but I didn't know what in the hell to do to comfort her.

"Are we gonna be okay?" Nora squeaked.

"What?"

She looked down at her shoes,

"Are we in trouble?" Nora asked, "Is Olsen gonna send us back to England?"

I began to feel bad, and my stomach began to churn.

"No... I don't think so, Nora. But I wouldn't worry about it, okay? Olsen is a nice old lad, whether he shows it or not. He does care for most all of us."

She nodded, as if to say she understood. But I know she didn't understand.

"You're so sweet to me, Angus," Nora smiled, "But why?"

"Awe... I'm nice to you because I've gone through some of the stuff you've got through, but mostly because you're a sweetheart to me, too."

"Do you miss home?" Nora asked.

"What do you mean, Nora?"

She looked at me with her curious eyes sparkling greatly, and as she stared into mine making me wonder of my past life.

"You know, how I've told you that you seem like you're from a place far away from here. Do you miss it, the place where you seemingly belong?"

I breathed in a shaky breath,

"Sometimes I do miss it, Nora. But I do not know where it is, and it always leads me to think to myself; how can I miss a place that feels like home if I don't even know if it is a real place or where in the hell it is?"