What if Narnia's wardrobe was in a psych unit?
Agatha Stone is not the chosen one--she's the last one. She's thirteen, mentally ill, and whiny, but she's all that's left.
She's not what they were expecting, but she's all they have. Maybe with the...
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I'm not ready to hear this. I'm having trouble believing everything that's happened already, and it's getting more ridiculous the more he explains.
"Earth has one type of sentient being; they're called humans," Jonah continues. "Ashra has many types, but together they're called curramonstrusos. We call ourselves curra, but humans call us monsters."
"Monsters? Monsters are real! You're a monster?"
He grimaces. "I prefer 'curra.' And yes. You even said yourself, you've seen my image portrayed as a monster. I'm sure you've heard about some of us in myths and fairy tales."
A groan gurgles from deep inside my throat. I'm looking at the Grim Reaper while he tells me about other worlds and monsters. I can see and hear him, so he has to be real. I also touched him, and he moved the papers and stuff. Finnegan can see him, too. Finnegan, the guy who lives in a quaint cottage in a subway tunnel.
"All of us, humans and curra, lived together for centuries connected by portals. Then several hundred years ago, the humans sealed the portals without warning."
"What portals? And if they're sealed, how are you here?"
"They are doorways connecting my world to yours, but they were locked. Someone tried to open them, but they failed. However, because of his actions, now some of the portals let certain humans and curra get through, like you and me."
"Okay. Yeah. I've lost it." I jump out of my chair so fast I knock my empty bowl to the floor and spill my tea. "I had my doubts. I mean, I could almost accept the Grim Reaper and soldiers materializing out of thin air, even a wizard, but a whole other planet filled with monsters, connected to Earth? That can't be right. Someone somewhere would know about it. An entire planet is a tough thing to keep secret."
Pacing around the room isn't helping to make sense of all the stuff that happened today. My fear is making me mad, which confuses me because as a rule, I'm not an angry person. My brain is making a buzzing noise and flashing images as it rearranges the events in my life. How did I get in this situation, and more importantly, how do I get out of it?
Jonah stays seated, and while I anxiously race around the room, he presses on. "Where do you think mythology came from? Why do you think there are so many fairy tales? So many versions of the same stories? Sit, Agatha. Let me continue. It will make sense. Just give it some time."
"Here I am, in a cottage deep in the heart of a subway line. Yeah, that could happen. You know, when they find me, if they ever do, I'll be sitting in a pile of filth somewhere in the subway tunnels eating dirt and talking to myself. Or I may not even be in the tunnels. I could be wandering the streets of New Jersey somewhere."
"Agatha, you're not insane," Jonah says calmly as he walks over to me. "First off, crazy people don't believe they're crazy. They believe they're thinking more clearly than ever."
