I sat on the beach, waiting for night. The sky had been stuck in this strange orbit, sunlight sinking into a thin line but never blinking out. I could see stars but the landscape was paralyzed, time as forgotten as me.
I blinked, waiting to wake up. I buried my face in my hands, watching the horizon line from between my fingers like the long hand on a clock. But it was still.
I stared down the road, waiting for the sound of someone coming up the hill—an engine, footsteps. But it was quiet. A cold breeze crept up the back of my shirt and I shivered as I finally got to my feet. I took slow quiet steps as I trudged through the tall grass, freezing at every sound and every shadow.
The place was deserted, nothing but strange trees and the sound of insects, but I still felt like I was trespassing. I kept walking, looking for a house, for some kind of park ranger, for any sign of life at all.
The grass disappeared, the meadow receding. Suddenly I was at the top of a hill and the sky split—cobalt sinking into a swirling grey. I had one foot in the meadow and the other buried in snow. Snow? The chill stung the sole of my foot, warm and cold air converging against my skin. I knelt down, brushing the snow with my hand. It came back burning. What the hell?
I scanned the snow for other footsteps. For her footsteps. But it was empty just like everything else. I closed my eyes. Tight. Waiting for it to disappear. But I could still feel the chill. Ice settled against my skin, making me feel exposed and I kept glancing over my shoulder, still waiting for someone to jump out of the shadows, to tell me it was all just some fucking joke.
I looked back across the meadow at that invisible line where two seasons converged, searching the shadows for some kind of machine, for the artificial source of the snow. Still nothing.
When I reached the trees the roots were lined with puddles where the snow was starting to melt. Summer again. But I was still dazed. I stumbled, staring up at the trees, my hand brushing one of the trunks. They were massive, the grain completely smooth, frozen in stone. They seemed ancient and I felt like I was walking through the pages of some fairy tale.
What is this place?
I still didn’t have my memory but I had my instincts and my instincts were telling me that there was something very wrong about this place. And about me in it.
My hand snagged a jagged twig, catching thorns. A line of blood trickled up from the center of my palm and as I examined the wound something pricked at my senses.
Heat.
White.
There was a flash of light so bright that I couldn’t see anything else. I thought I was drowning again, or maybe waking from this nightmare. I blinked, tears welling up as it seared my vision. My knees found the soil and I gripped it, tearing at it. And then the light let go of me.
I was afraid to open my eyes again but when I did I was back on the beach. And then I just froze there. Afraid to move another inch. I was perfectly still, waiting for the pain again but then I heard a soft knocking. That’s when I saw the small rowboat tethered to a dock and bobbing along the top of the water.
People. Rescue.
I ran for it, arms pumping as fast as I could. I reached the edge and looked inside. It was empty. No fishing poles or other gear. No wet footprints. I picked up the rope, checking the age, but it didn’t feel brittle, wet fibers still tight as I flung it back into the water.
I wanted to sink there, to catch my breath, but when I turned back towards the empty beach it was…buried. Two seconds before I’d been running through sand and shells and sea sludge and now it was gone, covered in rows and rows of giant sunflowers—dark red faces opened wide like a yawn, thick stalks bowing in the breeze blowing off the ocean.
What the…
Every time I blinked I waited for the landscape to reset again, for the ground to give way, for me to fall off the edge of the earth. I waited to disappear.
Slowly, I made my way back up the dock, itching and on edge, and then I was peering in between the sunflowers. I took a few steps between the stalks, hesitant, petals brushing and bouncing off the top of my head. Caterpillars scaled the leaves and dragonflies zipped from one bud to another.
I stopped, that low insect hum rising, drowning out everything. I followed it toward the other side, being careful not to snap any stems. But they just kept going, rows growing dense, petals curling in a thick canopy over my head that cast red shadows along my skin.
I turned, trying to find my way back but I couldn’t hear the waves any more, just the whirr of insects riled into a frenzy the harder I tried to tear free. Everything was moving, shifting, like I was tumbling inside a kaleidoscope.
I looked for a break in the row, for the sky, for emptiness, but there were only the sunflowers. I pushed past the thick stalks, finding my footing and then I stopped being careful and I started running. Green necks snapped under my feet, petals spilling onto the ground behind me.
Shit. Where is it?
I pushed through a wall of dark petals, dizzy, and then I slammed to a stop.
She was standing in front of me, eyes wide, a leaf clutching at a strand of her black hair.
“You,” she said.
I caught my reflection in her eyes, swirling and green. I could see that my own were dark and muddy, my hair black and stiff from seawater. My face was dark too, shadows spilling over a wide nose, thick eyebrows and tight lips.
“Who are you?” she said.
And then I felt the air go. She didn’t know who I was either. I shook my head. I thought I might cry; I could feel that raw sting at the back of my throat. But I was still frozen.
She pulled the strand of her hair free and tucked it behind her ear, still staring at me. “How…?” But then she grew quiet.
She reached for me, hand trembling. It hung there, me staring at the tip of her thumbnail, her staring at my face. Then I felt her thumb pressing into my cheek, trailing down my jaw. She was warm.
“Please,” I said. “I don’t know anything.”
She gave a small nod, eyes flitting toward a break in the row of flowers and I followed her.
It had been empty earlier, nothing but sunflowers and sand. But now there was a small farmhouse. Porch swing. Blue door.
“What is this?” I asked.
She led me inside and opened the windows, dust swirling in the sunlight spilling across a leather couch and a tall bookcase. She held out a blanket and I curled it around my shoulders. But I wasn’t cold anymore. My clothes were dry. Soft. Like they’d never been wet. Like I hadn’t almost drowned.
She stood in the center of the room, her green eyes wide, teal-colored fingernails scraping nervously at her forearm. Black curls dusted her pink cheeks and she gripped them in her fist, her shoulders tensed.
I looked down, away from the heat of her gaze, but I could still feel it pouring over me. Her eyes settled on my shoes, on the floor between my feet, and then they climbed every inch of me. I stood there, forgetting to breathe, not wanting to, because even my lungs felt foreign.
It was so quiet and I could hear the blood rushing in my ears, my pulse thrashing until there was only static. Until there was only her eyes on me. I wanted to shake out of that skin and as she took a step toward me, examining my face again, I thought I just might.
“You’re not…” She inhaled. “How…?” Exhaled. “This isn’t possible.”
“What’s not?”
“You being here. It isn’t—”
“Where am I? What is this place?”
“It isn’t…” She narrowed her eyes. “Real.” The word trailed off, uncertain.
“What do you mean it isn’t real?” I said.
“You,” she said, gripping her scalp. “You’re not real.” She walked to the other side of the kitchen, then back to the center of the room.
“But…yes I’m…” Am I?
“This can’t happen,” she said, pressing her palms over her eyes.
“Look, I’m lost in more ways than one. Can you just please explain this to me?”
/> She sat down on the couch. “I’m sick,” she finally said, not looking at me. “I have Klein-Levin Syndrome. It makes me sleep a lot, for long periods of time, and this is where I go when I’m…”
“Sleeping?”
She nodded.
“You mean like a dream?”
She looked at me. “They don’t know. The doctors, I mean. I’m not supposed to dream during an episode.”
“But you do? But this isn’t…this doesn’t make any sense. I’m real. I’m here. How?”
“I don’t know,” she said, a quake in her voice.
I moved to the window, watching the tide roll in. A dream? No. This was real.
I glanced back at her. What if she was sick? Only it wasn’t Klein-Levin Syndrome, whatever that was, but some kind of psychosis—schizophrenia, some other shit that makes you think you’re dreaming.
No. I’m just…I’m lost. I must have shipwrecked or something. I must have been with other people right? A family maybe? I just hit my head. That’s why I can’t remember anything. I hit my head and she obviously hit hers too. Hard.
But what about the snow?
“No,” I said, tossing the blanket on the couch. “This is crazy. Where’s everyone else?”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. Your family? The other people who live in this house? People that live nearby? Anyone?”
“It’s just me,” she said, her voice small.
“I’m supposed to believe that?”
“I don’t care what you believe,” she snapped. “You’re the guest here. You’re in my head, remember? And I’m not going to waste my time arguing with some figment of my imagination.”
“Me? You think I’m the one who’s not real? You’re probably just some psycho who recently escaped the mental ward. So, yeah, don’t waste your time trying to convince me of anything. I wouldn’t believe you anyway.”
“Oh, call me crazy,” she huffed. “That’s original. Whatever. Have fun sleeping on the beach.”
I walked back outside and as the door closed behind me it was like someone snuffing out a match. The sun disappeared in the same beat that she bolted the lock and it was suddenly night. What the hell?
I turned back toward the door but I didn’t dare knock. Shit. I looked toward the beach, no longer covered in sunflowers, but I wasn’t ready to face the water. Instead I wandered out into the yard, staring at the big farmer’s moon swallowing the sky. It was orange and so wide that I felt like I could see every dimple and every crater, the horizon completely obscured. And the light, I swear I could feel its heat.
I stood there, the water in front of me, trees cinching me on either side, not sure where to go. Not sure if it was safe. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been there but in that time I hadn’t seen another person except for the girl. And what if she was right? What if there was no one else?
The air suddenly felt charged, the solitude almost supernatural and I felt a chill cut through the heat pouring from the moon. I made my way back up the steps, fist raised over the door. But then it fell back down to my side and I curled up on the porch swing, searching for the girl’s silhouette through the window until I fell asleep.
Chapter 6
Bryn