With a grimace she decided her fingers were becoming too pruned by the water. She reached for the pool’s edge. The thick liquid was absurdly difficult to move through, akin to swimming in honey. It took all her might to reach the side and grip the moss-covered rim. She looked around to check no one was lurking in the bushes. Her suspicion scoured the foliage looking for spying eyes.
Satisfied that no one was skulking she heaved her naked body from the pool. To her amazement and relief the liquid did not remain in the puddle. As her body elevated, the pool’s content clung to her. The liquid formed into drapes of aquatic-fabric that began to weave, meld and contour around her body. In a matter of seconds she was clothed in a beautiful, ethereal gown that billowed around her on the breeze like an enormous, tropical-jellyfish.
The colour of the material changed in a flash of light from silver to a hundred hues of purple. Tiny diamond-like lights flowed endlessly from a cluster around the high collar. Each dash of light followed an erratic path, like bolts of lightning, out to the hem of the dress.
Harmony looked down expecting to see her bare feet sunken into the vibrant green moss. Surprisingly this was not the case; her feet were not on the ground...
She was in fact floating several inches above the ground; her feet pointed like that of a ballerina mid-pirouette.
“How weird is this?” she voiced to herself.
The lucidity of this dream was astonishing. Or perhaps this was a concussion? She had hit her head pretty hard after all. It didn’t matter really. Either way she was in the dream now, as such she decided to make the most of it. Instinctively her hand raised and caught one of the glowing creatures.
The fly tickled the palm of her hand as she brought it to the level of her eyes. Slowly and carefully she loosened her grip and peeked inside. A gasp of shock and wonder escaped her. Slowly her gaze penetrated the light and saw the being within. In her hand she held a tiny, golden seahorse. Upon its back were four, luminescent, dragonfly-like wings that fluttered as fast as a hummingbird’.
The creature made a very disgruntled whinny and darted out her hand leaving its lustrous trail in the air. The bright-beast raced to join a very large group of its kin. It bounced and buzzed, communicating some unknowable tale. A moment of panic aroused her suspicion as the collective colour of the seahorse-flies shifted from gold to volcanic-red.
The group of creatures advanced on Harmony's position. Panic-stricken she tried to take a step forward. The small movement in her foot propelled her through the forest several feet.
The movement brought a smile to her face. She repeated the action again, with more force and this time, and was catapulted thirty feet. A wide grin spread from ear to ear as she repeated the movement over and over. The rapid propulsion soon resulted in her leaving the infuriated mob of seahorse-creatures far behind.
Speeding and weaving between the trees made the tendrils of her garment billow around her in a haunting, twisting motion. The lengths of cloth reached out and curled round tree trunks and branches. Like the arms of a colossal octopus, the tendrils allowed her to change direction at breakneck speeds. She laughed and screamed out loud at the exhilaration of flying.
***
After her fill of flying Harmony reduced her speed and slowed down to a gentle drift. She took the time to look around and as she did so she became aware of two details.
Firstly the trees were of a familiar construction in this part of the forest. The golden-bark trunks had been replaced with the usual browns, greys and greens. Moreover there was a distinct lack of iridescence. There was no mistaking it, this was a very ordinary forest.
The second element to be observed, which was probably the most important, was a huge wall of grey stone. The endless boundary separated the forest; splitting the woods in two like an axe through a log.
She came to a stop by a large oak tree. The ancient timber sat at the edge of a clearing. Harmony ran her fingertips across the reassuringly-natural bark as she walked its circumference.
Her fixation on the tree abruptly ended as she glimpsed a woman with flame-red hair. The stranger was dressed in a gunmetal-grey gown. The dull garment appeared to be made of the same aquatic-fabric as her dress. Though, admittedly the woman's frock looked to be stagnant and sickly. Its lifeless tendrils trailed lazily along the ground, apparently unable to rise and perform as Harmony's did with such ease.
The red-haired woman stood next to a large, copper, clockwork gate. The mechanical portal was housed between two huge pillars, each topped by a bizarre gargoyle.
On the right sat a massive, white snail. The sizeable mollusc was carved from a pale wood and decorated with golden coins. It’s counterpart to the left was a wolf, hewn from obsidian. The fearsome beast was adorned with silver armour and he watched over the entrance with a ferocious snarl frozen on his face.
Harmony shuddered as she looked away from the wolf. The very sight of him made her blood run cold and she gave thanks that he was only a statue. In an attempt to push him from her mind she focused on the gate and the woman before it.
The design of the portal was decidedly cruel. The keyhole was transient. With a degree of intelligence it shifted from cog to cog, never staying in once place for longer than a blink. The opening appeared to taunt the woman beneath it, teasing and tempting her by passing close before quickly relocating to an awkward and often lofty extreme.
Harmony got the distinct impression that whoever built the wall did not want any visitors. Her eyes flitted onto the woman and she wondered what lay beyond the cogs? What treasure was worth the effort of entry?
The red-haired beauty cried great, heaving sobs of sadness and frustration. Tears streaked her cheeks as she desperately sorted through a burgeoning ring of keys in her hand. Despite the futility of her task she tried each key in the evasive lock. When it failed to turn, instead crumbling into dust in her hand, her sobs began anew.
Harmony watched silently as the woman sank to the floor defeated and exhausted; her eyes too full of tears to carry on. She dropped the keys on the ground and they landed with a clinking-thud.
Harmony was just about to announce her presence when the stranger's head jerked upward. Her steel-grey gaze locked with Harmony’s own and the air around them seemed to electrify. The disenable alteration in the atmosphere caused the hair on Harmony's arms stand on end.
The woman's lips moved quickly, mouthing a succession of silent words. Instantly the gap between them filled with golden threads. The gleaming fibres lashed around Harmony and tethered her to the ground.
The filaments slowly ensnared her arms and legs. They felt warm and comforting on her skin and her attempts to struggle were feeble at best. Instead she found herself relenting to their soothing touch; so warm and comforting...
The strange woman stood, wiped her eyes and they began to float. Her grey dress appeared to have acquired some life. The long, squid-like arms reached out to restrain Harmony's own agitated tendrils. The woman cautiously approached, though she still maintained a defensive gap.
“Oro Axiom! Now speak your name, child,” she commanded.
Her soft, musical voice was a joy to hear and it was supported by a distinct melody of tinkling bells. Harmony felt elated as she spoke. All she could do was smile.
The woman matched the smile. Her delicate mouth mimicked the expression and she exposed her flawless white teeth. Maintaining the grin she drifted closer to Harmony. Her large, grey eyes held the intense, unrelenting gaze as she waited for an answer.
“My name is Harmony. Harmony Ryder,” she replied a last. As the strings tickled her face she remained blissfully unaware of their grip around her throat.
“It can't be…? Harmony? I had all but given up hope,” the woman began to say. She appeared elated with Harmony’s answer. Then she added. “Where is the key?”
“Huh? What key?”
“It came with the letter. Did you bring it?”
; “I dropped it,” Harmony revealed nonplussed.
“You dropped it! You must find it, Harmony!” the woman screamed. “You must!”
“Harmony! Harmony!” Rose's voice echoed through the forest. Both Harmony and the red-haired woman looked into the sky.
As Harmony looked upward the dream shattered and she snapped back to reality with a painful bump...felt mostly on her head.
CHAPTER 4
Bunks, bumps and questions
The sweet, pungent aroma of incense sticks and patchouli oil (a favourite combination of Rose’s) filled her senses. The smell of the ambulance welcomed her home.
Harmony opened her eyes and found herself wrapped up in several blankets on Rose's bunk. Much like a caterpillar spins a cocoon she was bound from head to toe with just her face exposed.
Rose sat on the edge of the bunk. She was worriedly hovering over Harmony’s. A forced-smile painted her mouth, though no amount of pretence could hide the worry she was withholding.
Rose lifted the damp cloth from a small table next to the bed and placed it across Harmony's forehead. The cool, soothing flannel instantly began quenching the fiery pain that galloped like a herd of wild horses across her skull.
“Hello there, my love. I’m glad to have you back in the land of the living. How you feeling?” she asked, removing the cloth and refreshing it in a bowl of water.
“My head hurts! What on earth happened?” Harmony asked. She sat up and instantly regretted the decision. Agony erupted like a volcano in her mind, making her feel sick and more than a little dizzy. She lay down again and Rose placed the cloth back across her brow.
Rose looked at Harmony and adopted her stern-parent face. It was the expression she adopted on the rare occasion Harmony was caught doing something naughty.
“You weren't wearing your seatbelt, young lady. When I saw that rabbit dart out into the road I hit the brakes. You flew forward and bumped your head and it's lucky that's all that happened. It could have been a lot worse if...”
“How did you see a rabbit in all that fog?” Harmony interrupted, choosing to ignore Rose's hypocritical lecture on road safety. Her reasons for removing the safety belt were justifiable.
“Erm...what fog?” Rose replied looking confused. She placed a hand on Harmony's arm and gripped a little too hard, a concerned look in her eyes.
“The last thing I remember was reading the letter and asking you who Meme the Oak was. Then you went all weird and started driving along the dirt road,” Harmony paused looking for some spark of recognition in Rose's wide, disbelieving eyes. “Then it got really foggy. You were in a trance and you wouldn't answer me. Then you slammed on the brakes and then...then...well, nothing.”
“I don't remember being in a trance, love,” Rose replied a little condescendingly.
“Well you wouldn't would you,” Harmony retorted, irritated at her mother's tone. “I’m not making it up.”
“I think I should take you to hospital. Maybe that bump on the head gave you a concussion,” Rose suggested. “I didn't see any fog, just a rabbit. And as for Meme. Well...that's the name of a tree I played in as a child. I’d forgotten all about it. I’ve not been here since I was around your age,” Rose continued, disquiet still clearly visible on her face.
“No. I don't need to be in a hospital. I feel fine now. I’m just a bit sore I... Hang on, what do you mean here?” Harmony said, breaking free of the blanket-cocoon. She peered through the window into the black of night. Alas she couldn’t see anything beyond the reflection of her eyes.
“We arrived just after you bumped your head, but you had already climbed into my bed and were fast asleep. I thought you must have been having a good dream because you kept laughing so I didn't want wake you. It's close to midnight now. Are you hungry?” she said, standing up and turning to face their kitchen.
The word kitchen may have been stretching the truth a bit. In all honesty it was little more than a few shelves above a tiny counter top that housed a small electric oven and a two-cup kettle. Each shelf was crammed with packets and boxes; thin strips of elastic preventing them from crashing to the floor as Rose inevitably rounded a corner too fast.
“Don't avoid the question, mother,” Harmony began. “Where are we?”
“I'm not avoiding anything, Harmony. Stop being so rude. We are in the Lake District. Near to the town of Bellflower,” Rose replied abruptly.
“The Lake District!” Harmony exclaimed. “How can we be? It's so far from Cornwall. How long was I asleep for?”
“Oh. I really should take you to see a doctor. You seem very confused,” Rose fretted. Her worry was mounting again.
“No. I don't need to see a doctor. I’m fine,” Harmony reassured. “Actually, I'm starving. How about tea and toast?” she continued. She snuggled back down into Rose's bed hoping that her mother would forget about seeing a physician.
“Coming right up,” Rose replied. She flicked the switch on the kettle and retrieved some slices of bread from the misshapen loaf that had been stuffed onto one of the crowded shelves.
“Who is this great aunt Nova? And why have you never mentioned her before? And how did she know me if I’ve never met her? And why would she leave her house to me?” Harmony reeled off the questions as Rose removed a blowtorch from a drawer and lit it with a flaming matchstick.
She remained silent. This was a normal response for her when bombarded with questions. Rose contemplated her response as she stabbed the slice of bread with a large fork and held it up to the blue flame of the torch.
“Well. Nova was really old when I was a child and, ashamed as I am to admit it, I thought she’d have died a long time ago,” Rose confessed guiltily. “It's hard to believe she kept going for so long on her own, out here I mean. There’s no electricity or phone line, and the house is in a pretty bad way. That must have been the ‘burden’ she mentioned. As for how she knew you or why she left the house to you, I have absolutely no idea.”
Rose finished speaking just in time to rescue the burning bread from the torch’s flame. She quickly proceeded to smear butter on the cremated slice and finish brewing the cups tea. Harmony silently pondered over all the information buzzing around her throbbing head.
First there was the non-existent fog and the trance-like state that her mother had no memory of. That was weird enough but the feeble story of a rabbit darting out made the entire explanation implausible. That being said it wasn’t as odd as the distance they had travelled in such a short space of time.
Secondly there was the dream that had seemed so real, difficult though it was to recall now. Memories of the weeping woman and the clockwork gate were fading with each moment that passed.
Her mind became bogged down with questions. She pondered the unknowable riddle of her ancient hermit-relative. It was creepy that she’d been watching her from afar. If this was The Universe’s attempt to communicate with her then she wished it would just mind its own business and leave her alone.
Harmony took a bite of the warm, buttery toast and tried hard to believe that everything happens for a reason. Following her mother’s advice she attempted to look at the bigger picture. She could understand, though perhaps not accept, fate's plan was unclear to her. She swallowed her toast and focused on one belief. This all had to mean something…
CHAPTER 5
The burden
Beams of sunlight shone through moth-eaten holes in a pair of purple curtains. The golden lances illuminated the dim interior of the ambulance. Their touch was warm and their shine bright. The combination nudged Harmony awake like an over-friendly dog.
She opened her heavy eyelids with reluctance and a loud yawn forced its way out of her mouth as she stretched her stiff muscles. She sat up and looked around for Rose. Her mother’s bunk was empty.
Despite the ambulance being full to the brim with clutter (an ideal environment for beasties of all descriptions to take up resi
dence) it was devoid of life. Somewhat flummoxed she climbed down from her bunk and pulled on her favourite pair of jeans and an old, red sweater.
She slipped on her trainers when, with the speed and power of a lightning bolt, a memory exploded into her mind. They were at the cottage! She had forgotten all about it. She raced to the door and reached for the latch.
Nervous wasn’t an accurate description of how she felt. The next few moments of her life had the potential to be the most significant yet. A place to call home, to settle down in, had been at the top of her wish list for as long as she could remember.
The letter’s arrival was undeniably mysterious and it had the potential to have been written by a senile, old lady. Yet amidst the intrigue a beacon of hope emerged; a glimmer of possibility, brighter than the sun’s rays. Harmony crossed her fingers and pled to any gods listening that this cottage would be the answer to her dreams.
She opened the door. The intensity of the light, accompanied by sweltering heat caught her off guard. She had not expected to be greeted by what appeared to be a summer’s day in April.
Harmony ignored her seasonal-misgivings and instead focused her attention on the cottage. This was it; the moment of truth was upon her...
Her gaze latched onto the inherited-dwelling and in that moment she knew the dream’s outcome. Her hopes of a place to call home looked to remain unfulfilled. The cottage was a wreck...
She couldn’t hide her disappointment; it was bitter and heart-felt. The heavy, knotted-tug of discontent twisted in her stomach as she faced reality and found it lacking. A warm summer breeze, imbued with the earthen-scents of the forest, enveloped her as she walked toward the ramshackle cottage.
Her eyes drifted across the faded thatched roof. The once golden straw had paled to a mottled-slant of silver and black decay.
She followed the line of the roof and saw a strange, copper funnel poking out at an odd angle. The apparatus was beyond anything she had seen before. The design looked to have purpose, though what that was remained a mystery.
The few windows the cottage possessed were all broken. One frame, devoid of glass, had half a table protruding through it. The front door was also missing. In the empty frame Rose stood waving frantically in an attempt to draw her attention.