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  I zoned out and sat back in my chair, trying to muster up some patience. Everything in me wanted to go home and spend the rest of the night cuddled up with Dashielle watching a movie. I only had three nights a week to see him, thanks to my parents’ stringent rules. Like that was somehow going to make me fall for him less, but they believed juvenile love dissipates with separation. They thought I was too young to be so involved and worried our relationship would cause me not to go to college. I wasn’t sure if they were truly convinced of that; nevertheless, all they wanted was for Dashielle to tire of their rules and find another girlfriend.

  The podcast lasted for about twenty minutes and both Dashielle and Toby seemed to be impressed with whatever the men had declared. It almost made me wish I’d paid attention, but soon Dashielle returned to his speech.

  “I have dreamed of working there since I was a kid, and I’ve got loads of experience in music. I think I’d be a good fit with the team…” he went on.

  I had heard Dashielle’s speech in some form or another over and over again. He would often tell me how he’d be perfect for the station and practice convincing me of such, as if I had some say in him receiving a job there. I tried to read Toby’s expressions.

  He slouched in his chair, stroked his patchy stubble, and nodded his head occasionally in agreement. After Dashielle spilled his heart out, Toby finally spoke.

  “All that’s good, but are you fresh?”

  “Huh?” Dashielle looked confused.

  “Fresh? Are you a revolutionary? That’s what we need in Blakely. Someone who will change the face of radio. I’m doing the best I can in this tiny, dead town, but a one man team is never very successful,” he muttered.

  “Sure. I’m revolutionary. I’m into things that are hip and trendy.”

  “You need more than trend, dude. You need a persona that is like gravity. Like these guys.” He held up his phone. “They’re onto something real, even if what they say isn’t. They’re like kryptonite to listeners. That’s what we want.”

  I could tell Dashielle hadn’t expected the conversation to go in this direction. He was unprepared, which made me worry for him.

  “I understand what you’re saying. That makes sense,” he finally said while searching the depths of his mind for something more to say.

  “So who are you?” Toby asked.

  Silence.

  Dashielle struggled, as I silently prayed he’d say something brilliant.

  Then Lil, a guy, and two girls flew out the back door into the woods behind the house, laughing and occasionally glancing back at the plump Superman who now hopelessly chased them. The VIPs looked at them in amazement. A few snickered, I included. Some of them, as though offended by the intruders, huffed at their impudence.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me?” one snooty blonde said while tossing her waves off her shoulder.

  “Please take care of this,” a tall guy wearing a top hat and three-piece suit said while approaching the now slouching, exhausted bouncer. “Now.”

  I didn’t know for sure, but he seemed to have a lot of authority. The owner of the house, I assumed.

  “My apologies,” he said as he walked past Toby and patted him on the shoulder. Toby nodded and focused back on us, thankfully forgetting his interrogation of Dashielle.

  Superman stood in obvious wonder at how to handle the situation. We could hear Lil and her new friends giggling in the distance. I squeezed Dashielle’s knee, stood, and walked over to our pathetic protector.

  “One of them is my sister. I’ll go get her,” I told him. I started for the woods and took one look back. Dashielle glanced up at me, but he was already engaged in another conversation with Toby. I walked towards the darkness and away from the noise of the house.

  Chapter 2

  The music and the light from the house faded quickly as I made my way into the thick woods. I noticed a slight path of worn foliage, so I followed it. After a few minutes, I noticed the path became wider, and limbs weaved into a form of fencing that ran along the sides of the trail. That’s kind of cool, I thought, as I took a closer look and traced the branch’s route amongst the fence.

  “Lil?” I yelled. “Come on now; this isn’t funny!”

  I glanced from side to side to see if I could catch a glimpse of anyone, but nothing.

  Suddenly, I ran into something. A scarecrow hung horrifically from its neck, dangling from a tree limb. My heart leapt from my chest and forced me to take a moment to catch it.

  “Lilith!” I shrieked. I meant business now. I almost turned back to let her deal with whatever repercussions Superman could imagine, but that nagging older sibling sense of responsibility kept me from running back to Dashielle in indifference.

  I took a few more steps and allowed the path to meander me deeper. That’s when I noticed it — a solitary grave at the base of a tree. Its concrete epitaph was broken, but someone had neatly propped the damaged piece back up against the solid one. That’s it. I’m out. No wonder they had no other choice but to make this a haunted house. No one would live here with a grave (and possibly more) on the property. I turned around and saw a fork in the path that I had not noticed before. I instantly thought of Frost’s “a road less traveled made all the difference” poem and also the childhood adage “curiosity killed the cat,” but what they really meant was “curiosity killed the kid.” I decided that I couldn’t let Lil wander these woods alone. She’d probably gotten a little spooked too. Besides the trail looked to be leading back towards the house, and I was bound to find Lil soon.

  “Lilith?” I called in frustration.

  I began to hurry down the path in an effort to either find her or find myself back at the house, and then it happened. I fell. This was no trip over a limb with a graceful landing like ladies we see in the movies. I hit the ground hard with a thump, and my body throbbed in response. What the? It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the black. I had fallen into a pit. A deep black, muddy hole.

  “Help!” I screamed over and over. Terror began to set in. I refused to move. All I could do was scream for someone to come and help me out of the darkness.

  “Dashielle! Lil! Anyone?”

  Nothing.

  I was paralyzed in terror. I looked up to the mouth of the pit and saw the moon’s light peeking from its opening, but what little light that crept into the hole was quickly consumed. None made it to where I stood. Impaired by the darkness, I started feeling around. That’s when I noticed that the hole was not just a hole; it was a tunnel. Next to my front, back, and right was nothing but earth, but to my left there was a terrifying possibility of something else. Cold air secreted from its void, making the hair on my neck stand. I can’t explain it other than — threatening.

  I took countless rounds of screaming, constantly looking over my shoulder into the depths of the darkened tunnel, half expecting something to leap out and seal my fate in the pit forever. But nothing happened.

  I could almost hear voices. I kicked myself for leaving my phone in the car. I thought I saw a flash of light reflect off the fog, but I couldn’t be sure. Surely they were looking for me by now. They will find me, I reassured myself.

  After what seemed like an entire night, but was probably only a few hours, I decided that no one was going to find me until morning when the light could (hopefully) help everyone retrace my steps along the path. I began trying to scurry up the walls but was unsuccessful. I probably got up about three feet by spreading my legs across the space between the sides, but the walls were too soft and slippery. I finally gave up and concluded that there was nothing to do but sit and hope to hear the rustle of leaves under some savior’s feet.

  Nothing.

  A few more hours, and nothing still.

  The darkened tunnel now started to have a lure about it.

  What if it leads out? What if it was some secret underground-railroad/ prohibition-type of tunnel leading straight into the house? They had those here in Blakely, right? I mean I’ve seen them
on T.V. I’ve never heard of any in this part of Georgia, but that doesn’t mean anything. I’m no historian. I guess I can count that off the list of college interests.

  I decided to yet again take the path less traveled and follow the darkness into what felt like would be my most certain demise. I ran my fingers along the now concrete walls trying to gather every bit of strength I could muster. I practiced the exercises the doctor recommended for my anxiety. Breathe in and slowly breathe out. This wasn’t helping, unfortunately. It only made me feel light headed.

  After walking for about five minutes, I reached the end of the tunnel, which was concaved in the earth like an oval. Exhaustion, fear, and desperation hit me when I realized that this was yet another dead-end. I burst into tears and eventually found myself huddling in the tunnel’s hollow sphere, basking in my misery. I only sat for about a minute before it happened.

  This is all I remember:

  The dirt shifted beside me, and the end of the tunnel opened. The crevice felt like it plucked me up in a whirlwind. In seconds, I landed on the ground face first on the surface of whatever lay beyond the tunnel. It smelled like nature after a storm. When I opened my eyes, I stared down at my mud-covered hands. The darkness that I once thought would be my tomb was now gone, and two low hanging moons lit the forest where I found myself. Even though I had no idea where I was, the fact that I was out of the hole sent a surge of relief that filled my entire being. I stood up, dusted off all the mud I could, and looked back. Strangely, there was nothing but trees. As I moved closer to the spot where I’d most certainly came from, all I saw was a mirror that reflected the woods. An illusion. I touched its smooth surface, tried to find the end of it but couldn’t. Another dead-end.

  Before I could figure out what to do, I heard a voice and spun around to confront it.

  “What are you doing here?” I heard a man’s voice growl, but I couldn’t see anyone. I looked around. He sounded like he was only a few feet from me.

  “Where are you?”

  “First, tell me why you’re here?”

  “I don’t know why I’m here. I’m lost, I think. I was at a party, and while walking in the woods behind the house, I fell into a hole. Now here I am. I have no idea what happened. Where am I?”

  Silence.

  Right square in front of me, he appeared out of thin air. I blinked my eyes in disbelief. He seemed to be about my age and wore his hat cocked to one side with suspenders atop a blue button-up and brown trousers. It reminded me of Dashielle’s costume. I guess he could read the amazement on my face, so he answered the question that my mind was trying to form.

  “Invisibility. That’s all.”

  “Invisible?” My mind tried to comprehend.

  “Yeah, you know. It’s my gift, if you will.” He grinned. I could tell that my disbelief prompted a swelling of his ego.

  “That’s not even possible,” I whispered to myself more than to him.

  “Blast! You really aren’t from here, are you? I thought you were just talking rubbish with that whole ‘fell in the hole’ bit.”

  “I have no idea where I am,” I stated.

  “Well, then. Welcome to Mezzanine. Right now you’re in the enchanted forest.”

  I took a moment and tried to understand what he was saying. The enchanted forest? I must be dreaming. I looked back at the mirror in desperation. My reflection glared back at me. My dirty costume, fallen hair, and everything looked exactly as I’d expected. Except that I was glowing. Not really an illuminated glow, but my body’s silhouette sort of radiated. I turned to face the guy and realized he was glowing too.

  “Why am I glowing?” I asked. In retrospect, it probably wasn’t the most important question on my mind; nevertheless, it’s the one that came to mouth.

  “We all glow here. I’ve never really thought much about it before.” He regarded his arms and smiled in somewhat delight.

  “How can I get back to where I came from?”

  His demeanor instantly changed, and his smiling face turned into a harsh, cold look.

  “There’s no going back,” he stated directly.

  I stared trying to read his face, but he was emotionless and callus. I knew then that I might be in more trouble now than I had been stuck in the bottom of some hole.

  “Come on, now. Before we know, it will be light. I’m sure you need food, and a tub certainly wouldn’t hurt you. Follow me.” He turned his back to me and walked in the opposite direction from the mirror, my only known source to home. I hesitated. How could I leave here? What if I could never find my way back? How would I ever get home?

  “It’s not going to open back up, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he said, but didn’t look at me.

  “How do you know?”

  “I’ve lived here a long time and never have seen a portal reopen,” his voice trailed.

  My heart sank to the bottom of my stomach, and I felt as if I may fall to my knees. He continued to walk further away from me, never looking back to see if I was trailing after. I chose the only option before me and followed him.

  At first, I lagged behind grateful for the distance between him and me so that I could slowly work out my thoughts. Not to mention I probably glanced back at the mirror a thousand times before it was completely out of sight. It was then I realized I needed to know more about this strange place I’d stepped into and figured a friend in the midst of the unknown wouldn’t be such a bad idea. I jogged to catch up to him. As I approached his side, he said, “Name’s Chester.”

  “I’m Rowena.”

  “Fancy meeting you here.” He chuckled. I tried to laugh, but my smile soon faded.

  “I have some questions.”

  “I’m sure you do, but questions can wait. I try to avoid interrogations before breakfast.”

  We walked in silence until we came to a narrow dirt path that took us deeper into the forest. We took a sharp right when we approached a carved “C” on an ancient oak.

  “This is me,” he said. We followed the trail until there came a clearing. Nestled into the side of a dirt bank was a small house. The back and sides were covered in moss, and there were wild flowers growing on the top of it. It looked to be one with the hill. The carved wooden door rounded at the top with a small circle window. The doorknob sat right in the center. It reminds me of something out of a children’s book.

  Chester walked inside and rested his hat on the hall tree standing to the right of the door. The place was tiny, no doubt about that, but it was also cozy. The stone walls circled us from the wooden floor to the ceiling. Every piece of furniture was wood with a certain handmade touch.

  “Did you make this yourself,” I asked while rocking a chair with my finger.

  “Posh, eh? We make everything here ourselves. Self-preservation.” He smiled. I could tell that he wasn’t in the mood to talk, and I never was in the mood to talk until now.

  From the entry, I could see the living room adorned with a wood fireplace to the right, and the small kitchen with a wooden stove was on the left. Directly in front of the door was a narrow hallway that appeared to stretch deeper into the side of the hill.

  “The bath is the first door down the way. I’ll warm you some water and let you snag some clothes for the night while I wash yours.”

  “I appreciate all your help.”

  “Your room will be the last door on the left. Here,” he said while grabbing a candle from a shelf. “You’ll need this.”

  I took it and examined it. The white candle sat on a metal base with a small hole for my finger to grip. No electricity, really?

  I walked down the galley.

  I could be walking into my own demise. What if he is a killer?

  He kept his distance. Always creating more space between us when we came within three feet of each other. That made me feel a little better. He couldn’t hurt me if he didn’t get close to me, right? The whole thing was awkward and unsettling, for him too I imagined.

  The stone walls radiated a
coolness in the air. When I approached the first door, I peeked in. A claw foot bathtub sat to one side with a sink on the opposite side. I was even surprised to see something that resembled a toilet. No hot water or electricity, but there’s all the amenities of a powder room? Odd. I reserved my questions for later.

  I continued down the hall and came across Chester’s room on the right. Nothing was in it but an old trunk and a giant pillow, or so it looked. But I realized later that this is what he used for a bed.

  When I got to my room, there was even less in the way of furniture. The pillow lay in the middle of the floor with a few blankets folded neatly on top of it. There were no windows in any of the rooms down the hall, so this wing of the house felt more like a dungeon than a home.

  I slowly made my way back to the front of the house and found Chester boiling water in a large iron pot.

  He scurried to the bathroom, and I could hear water hitting the bottom of the tub.

  “How do you have water but no electricity?” I finally asked when my curiosity could no longer stand it.

  “I’ve dug pipes from the spring nearby to have running water, but electricity isn’t possible here.” There was a serious, somberness about his nature, which made me feel a little sad for him.

  A few minutes later, my bath was ready. I sat in the overly warm water and contemplated the night’s events. I missed Dashielle. I wondered where Lil was and if she made it back to the house. I even wondered if she might be stuck down here somewhere too. I tried to figure out what this place could be. Maybe it was just a dream. Surely I fell asleep. My mind raced with questions; all went unanswered. I grasped the only truth I felt — I wanted to go home.