EVTF Series Part 5-VII: Part 1

***please forgive me, I’ve never said this before but please read the description before continuing***

Part 5
Chapter VII

She reached forward and grabbed the aging knob, which squeaked as she turned it toward the center. Slowly, the warmth of the shower ceased to beat against her face, and she sighed gently as it evaporated around her. The heat swirled in a mist before her pale blue, gem-like eyes while the showerhead dripped its last drops onto the tile floor. Slipping a smooth garnet-red bathrobe around her figure, she gracefully pushed back the plastic shower curtain and stepped before the cloudy mirror, onto the thick throw rug. A swift whip of her head sent her wholly-soaked light-brown hair flying about her and flicking a good amount of water onto the walls and mirror, before she grabbed her crystal necklace and fastened it around her neck. The stone felt icy cold against her skin.
As she stared into the fogged mirror and wiped it clean with her sleeve, there was a foreboding humidity in the small vanity bathroom. Crystal could feel the density of the moisture practically resisting her movement; a thin steam filtered through the shower curtain and surrounded her in haze. She shivered and held her robe closer, letting it soak up all of the water from her neck and shoulders.
She shook her head. There was no telling what the day was going to bring. Everything around her felt soupy and thick; fluid but unclear. Grogginess seeped in and pushed her eyelids down. Normally she would have gotten more hours of sleep than she could count on one hand, but she had lost track of time the previous night, staying up with her new friend; the friend in her dream; the friend whose youthful face once brought light, but presently only reminded her of destruction.
She clenched her bright-blue eyes tightly and tried to find her. A pin drop could have broken her focus, and dark clouds burdened her mind. She had no idea where Victoria was, but she did know she was alive. That much she was certain of; if she had died, her nightmare could have been several times worse, or so she guessed. There was nothing she could definitely be certain of in that moment, her head hanging over the wide opening of the sink in front of the mirror as her hair dripped. Each droplet of water that hit the ceramic echoed in the silence of the morning.
Between drips, her ears hung in suspension, an overpowering silence pervading the bathroom that rang, booming in her ears. Each metallic ding of the water blew the ringing away, but the hum swelled back immediately after the fact, until she was forced to sigh audibly, desperate to break free of the thick silence. She felt like she was in a pool, surrounded by heavy dark water through which sight- and motion- were tricky.
“I need more sleep,” she groaned as she rubbed her forehead. Her fingers clenched her skin and she gritted her teeth as a slight headache seized her head. She fought to massage her scalp which throbbed painfully under her palm. “Owww…” she hissed as she stroked her wrinkled forehead desperately. “Please not today; I don’t need a headache today.” A sigh blew from her lips before she let the silence cover her again, and as she shook her head in dismay she noticed a contortion that seemed to develop; a pimple in the center of her forehead that seemed to grow the more she touched it. “What the…?” She squinted at the bulge, which under the light of the parlor mirror began to look a glistening burgundy red, and growing faster; already bigger than any insect bite she had ever seen. “What the hell?” Her eyes squinted at the swelling which began to feel smooth and rigid, almost like a facet, while the edges of her vision faded first to gray, then a rush of abysmal black.
Crystal knew where she was before she opened her eyes; she woke up with a start on the old green sofa downstairs. The robed young woman felt her sweating forehead in a mild panic; smooth like velvet, free of blemish. She followed up with a sigh of relief and put her head back on the arm of the sofa, staring at the ceiling fan which spun above her idly. Her headache left no signs it had ever tortured her mind, and as she followed the blades circling in space the questions began to parade into her clouded mind: “What the hell just happened?” “How did I end up here?” “Was all of that another dream?” What troubled her most was what followed the train of thought that led her to question whether or not it was a dream: where did her warm soothing shower end, and her nightmare begin? She reached back and ran her palm through her still-wet light-brown hair; there was one thing she was definitely certain of, and that was that there was nothing she could be certain of.
“Wait a minute, how long have I been-” she turned and squinted at the tiny numbers on her DVD player reading the time. “Fouuuuuur, forty-two? I knew that,” she muttered lazily as she sat upright, grunting in her sleep-deprived condition. As her feet met the carpet she walked along a line between alertness and obliviousness. “Oh, God, I didn’t have a drink did I?” She held her head gently and made her way back upstairs to her room and fumbled through her closet. She quickly grabbed a light maroon top and a black dress skirt but stopped herself in thought. Her eyes narrowed in thought and she replaced the rather formal outfit, changing half-clumsily into her favorite faded lavender T-shirt and an old, worn pair of black jeans she found particularly comfortable, especially for sporting in the misty, early mornings. She shrugged slightly at her unusually casual wardrobe but she noted that she did not deem such an ordinary-feeling day worthy of a lavish dress like the one she wore the previous day. Truth be told, she didn’t understand exactly why she dressed up in her flowing dresses. Nor did she quite understand why she was breaking her habit, but without another thought she laced up her Chucks and glided downstairs for the front door, slipping her slim cell phone into her loose-fitting pocket.
Almost out of habit she pulled her phone back out before her hand touched the brass doorknob of her apartment and checked the time again. “Hmm, still early… I have time I guess.” Her feet turned her around and she grabbed the television remote as she passed by the mahogany coffee table in the middle of the living room, turning on the flatscreen that was mounted on her wall, and headed for the kitchen. A sudden high-frequency ringing sound of the electronics behind the screen was severed by the overlay of the early morning news, filling the room with an upbeat, news fanfare while she grabbed a banana and a granola bar. She noted that the added techno music made breakfast feel at least a little more interesting, in her own right. Normally before her twilight excursions she would sit around and watch the news, seeing if her weather predictions matched the weatherman’s, if the lottery numbers were as she guessed, and otherwise seeing what was going on in the world, or at least what she couldn’t already see.
“Today’s forecast,” she muttered as she peeled her banana, “cloudy and chilly, highs in the mid-60s, with a… two mile visibility?” She tore a segment from her fruit and popped it, waiting for the well-dressed speaker to display the forecast.
“Good morning, Coledge, it’s starting to look like a rather dreary morning out today but maybe if we’re lucky we’ll get a chance to see a liiittle bit of sun. Here’s your five-day forecast with today’s high around 66 degrees,” Crystal perked a small grin. “Lows in the upper 50’s,” her lips moved in time with the reporter’s. “Got a lot of fog out for you this morning, about a hundred to two-hundred feet of visibility so be prepared for that on your morning commute. That’s your weather for this morning, and have a great day.”
Her eyebrows rose in minor surprise as the news camera turned back to the main reporters. Granted there was no surprising Crystal, but there was no way that his last prediction could have been right. Quickly dropping her half-eaten banana on the granite countertop she ran to the front door and looked outside. Indeed, as the man claimed, there was almost nothing to be seen. Not only was it dark, but the street light that was outside her apartment was hidden completely, and what orange light came from the lamp was dissolved into the dense fog, like a dimly lit apparition floating right above her.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” she muttered, mouth hanging half-open and one eyebrow still raised. She shivered a little and shut the door, going back to the kitchen to finish her quick breakfast. Her countenance was slightly upset but not completely darkened; her head tried to shake off the same thick sense she dealt with when she stepped out of the shower, feeling so tired and confused. It was the first time in a long time in which she had been genuinely confused. The mere fact appalled her and she sighed in annoyance, letting her hand fall onto her leg as she downed the last of her banana and threw the peel over her shoulder into the kitchen garbage. Her hand slapped her forehead, faintly frustrated as she heard it thump on the tile floor, rather than rustle against the plastic trash bag.
The lightly-dressed woman growled under her breath as she turned around to clean up her latest lapse in judgment, which lay in a wadded-up heap on the floor with some of the fruity flesh from the peel sprinkled around it. Adding insult to injury, the peel left a few spots of residue on the floor and she wiped it with a paper towel, throwing it away with the peel by hand. “Good grief,” she muttered, wiping her sticky hands onto her jeans and grumbling a bit.
In the middle of her task, overhead lights beamed down around her and flooded her vision with bright thick, solid white as one more piece of the strands of banana flesh fell back to the ground. Its descent slowed down as she stared at it, all motion coming to a molasses-like crawl. Her head pulsed and her eyes glowed, brighter than before. Her mind went back to her dreadful nightmare, except instead of witnessing a girl’s imminent doom, she was experiencing it firsthand. The sky above her was grayed over with darkness of the frozen overcast air and she could feel tiny pricks of ice on her skin, making her go numb instantly. She could still feel her hands gripping the kitchen bar but her mind was elsewhere, lost deep inside her consciousness as she fell. Several minutes it felt like, before she shook her head violently, breaking free; her hand immediately flew from the countertop and she clutched her precious crystal necklace, holding it close to her face longingly.
Out of nowhere, she perceived the warm saline tears beginning to roll down her cheeks, and she found herself short of breath. Adrenaline pulsed through her body and she still had a sensation of falling, her reflexes prompting her to curl up on the cool tile floor. Her lip quivered- not for the first time that morning, and as it trembled she began to doubt every feeling, emotion, and sense she experienced. In her sudden desperation, in a pile on the floor, the one thing on her mind was the nostalgic touch of her father’s warm hand on her back; a touch she had not felt in over ten years, yet was so close she could almost swear he was behind her, massaging her as she wept into her knees. His voice drifted silently through the air around her, calling her to action.
“C-come on, Crystal… it’s nothing… get a hold of yourself or you’ll miss it!” She wiped her face with her arm, forgetting she wasn’t wearing a particularly sleeved shirt and threw her hair back, letting it fall back into its natural state before shaking herself off. Her heart was still racing, but as she looked herself over in a nearby mirror, she admitted she looked less of a mess than she might have before. Only a small unnoticeable amount of her makeup had run, which she was particularly grateful for, since it would have probably ended disastrously if she had had to reapply. A final check, she recollected her things and stood in front of the door, eyes lightly closed. “Please, let today go smoothly?” She smiled with the hum of mystery she put into “smoothly,” and opened the door, bracing the mild chill that met her. She bit her lip, anticipating what was to come, and slowly shut the door behind her and locking up. If her mind wanted to play games with her, the only defense she had was to not think.
The sky hadn’t changed much since the last time she had looked out and checked the forecast’s accuracy. Still a bit dark, and fog was blanketing the alley-like street her apartment was located on. The misty air was, however, brightly illuminated by the far-reaching sodium streetlight; each particle of moisture that floated around was filled with the orange-yellow light, an image like that of gazing at a row of giant candles lining the empty roads. She yawned; the city was asleep, as she should be, but she pushed on, shuffling down a small incline of stairs and making her way across the street along her normal route to the park in front of Lake Windbell.
She looked up and saw a glow within the thick dark clouds. If her calendar and her secondhand instincts for astrology were correct, the moon would be officially full by noon-ish, if not by afternoon. She remembered from a few days ago, before all the commotion with Mrs. Ruck had started, before Ron arrived, that the moon was filling rather quickly. In fact the last time she had seen it there was only a small sliver left to be filled. It would explain why the glow was so bright, even despite the dense cloud cover and the soupy fog below. A warm smile made her shiver in the cold when she pictured the full moon in its curious splendor floating over the wide, peaceful lake. She never really got up and out of the house to watch the moon, but she considered the magnificence and agreed it was worth going out of her way to see; she nodded, jotting down the plans in her mental agenda. As she closed it up and stored it in the back of her head, she pursed her lips slightly and forced a smile, taking in the peaceful world she was walking through, yet untouched by the new day.
She approached a more heavily used street and, through the slightly thinner fog, could see the regal bluish haze of late twilight beginning to hum with awakening in the skies overhead, and a few stars were seen twinkling in preparation for the daily spectacle. Crystal found herself not having to force her smile anymore; she felt much more at ease and a soft spring in her step sent her almost flying toward the center of town, to the misty shores of the gaping lake. She checked the time on her phone: almost six. A sigh of pride left her nose and she turned another corner onto the main road leading to the lake.
“Wow…” she sighed under her breath as she saw the lake below. Out of the few times she had ventured out in the dark hours of the morning to gaze at the sunrise, at no time had the city ever really been so thick with fog. The view that opened before her looked like something from a rustic painting; the wall of mist which was characteristic to the lake’s obscurity stood ominously illuminated from the inside like an aurora of pale greens and vivid blues. Just the height of the wall alone gave it the appearance of some majestic, mystical waterfall. Her heartbeat soon shook her from the trance she found herself locked into, leaving her staring at the brilliant natural sight as she made her way down the slope of the highway toward the park, with the swirl of colors growing larger and brighter as she drew closer.
This is perfect! she thought, her pace swift but controlled. No one was awake yet, and not a single car was to be heard through the peaceful twilight. Silence settled with the thick fog, except for her soft, muffled footsteps, and the quiet hum of the streetlamps she passed. The bluish ethereal light flooded the streets, mixing with the orange light from the lamps to create a fascinating blend of color with a greenish overtone. The air smelled cool and fresh as she took a deep breath of it in and sighed blithely.
Her path of bliss left the dull gray pavement of the sidewalks and brought her to a low-lit cobblestone thoroughfare leading to the entrance to the lakeside park, wherein lay her favorite worn but well-preserved wooden park bench. With a short sigh of contentment she ran her hand over the soft, smooth gloss surface, slick with morning dew, lake condensation, all on top of the fog. She noted the wetness of the bench and wiped away some of the pooled-up water that lay on the seat, and gently took her place on the wood, which creaked quietly under her dark jeans.
The colorful miasma on the lake seemed to tower above her, a thick wall of mystical smoke inside which swirled the beautiful colors of a cool, late sunset. Soft wind blew through nearby trees, though rather than clearing the fog around her it merely thickened, still continuing to move at a steady crawl with the gale. One powerful breeze took her by surprise and broke through the wall, blowing her hair wildly and causing her crystal to flap around on her chest. Fighting to secure her messed-up hairdo, she grabbed hold of her crystal suddenly and held it tightly, and suddenly she could feel herself looking down over the icy clifftop again, and her crystal was inches away from being torn from her neck and launched into the abyss. Quickly acting, she shook her head violently and clenched her necklace again, holding it to her shoulder so tightly, the crystal digging into her rather painfully.
“Gah!” she grunted as she finally returned to reality. The snowy tundra-like landscape faded back into the clouds around her, and her feet were again safely on the sea-level ground where they belonged. A staggered sigh left her lips. She lifted the crystal up to her face, letting her mind calm down as she stared into the complexities of its several elegant facets.
She could remember her father’s face as if she had just spoken with him the night before. Every single detail, down to the aging wrinkle, was as engrained in her mind as her own name. As the name resonated around the structure of her own mind, the image of her father brought to it one of the earliest memories she could remember about him- one of her fondest, she recalled: Wrapped in the simple comfort of her car-seat, crudely but securely strapped in the front seat of the family minivan, she awoke at about five or six years old, before the sun was even up. Despite the smooth suspension the van offered, one bump had stirred her and broke her sleep, though she didn’t complain. Seeing the dark world outside her windows rushing past made her feel at-ease. Her lazy gaze shifted to her left and saw the younger face of her father- a bit tired from lack of decent sleep, but otherwise alert and focused on the wooded road lit only by their soft headlights, and the occasional streetlamp. The radio was off, so all that could be heard was the soft rush of the car over the old road. Nostalgia was written in the twilit autumn sky.
It was not the first time she had been down the road, as she understood. She was too young to remember the time her father first took her with her mother to watch the sunrise as a family, an experience she quickly grew to love and look forward to every morning. It was too exciting to fall asleep each night knowing the wondrous experience that would follow the next morning, so frequently she would inadvertently stay up late, possibly the direct cause of her ability to function on little amounts of sleep later in her life.
The road to the sun-gazing spot ran through a very rural, rolling countryside, far away from the urban lifestyle she grew up in. She’d never seen a real-life horse until one of her earliest outings, and she wouldn’t be able to see them at all until the trip back home, because according to her mother, “Horsies have to sleep too, honey.”
Once again it was silent in the car, and if she looked up beyond the trees, she could see the sky beginning to slowly gain color. This was a good sign; it meant they were getting closer and they wouldn’t miss it. Most children her age might have found the early morning errand to be a hassle, but she always found a fascination in the whole experience which never died away. It meant being with her father and sharing special time with him, and it would mean something much more only a few years down the road.
The series of events leading up to and during the climactic sunrise were those that she recalled most clearly from her memories of the morning trips. If her mother had accompanied them, she and her father would more often than not share a kiss or two before reaching the place and one more during the sunrise itself. If not, then she would have her father all to herself, which invoked a certain prideful bond in her spirit. The lookout area was situated upon a short rocky cliff, only a story or two above a wide grove of mountainous trees, and off in the distance the sun’s trajectory was perfectly aligned between two scissor-like mountains. Her father knew she would never dare to venture over the edge, but nevertheless he always stayed by her side, and even sat her on his shoulders on lucky occasions, in order to give her the best view he could offer. Nothing could make her feel more special.
She would gently squeeze her father’s fingers as the first dim rays of light peeked through the valley. They stretched like a hand reaching across the sky, lighting up the thin pale clouds with a sort of glory, and quickly grew brighter as the sun’s body emerged. Her father told her that since the cloud cover from their point of view was always so thick, the sun was safe to look at, though he did make her wear sunglasses most of the time, at least when her mother was present. On that morning there was very little cloud cover, and Crystal insisted that she didn’t need eye protection. With his characteristic chuckle, her father dropped the subject and sat on the ground next to her, putting his arm around her as they watched the spectacle unfold together.
He would always tell her that when the sun hit her eyes just right, they glowed and sparkled, just like crystals. When she denied his compliment he would reach around his neck to take off his necklace and let her hold it up to the sun.
“That’s what they look like, honey; the most beautiful crystals in the whole world.” He then laid a kiss on her forehead and held her tightly as the sun continued to rise, out above the monolithic mountainous stage.
Crystal sat on her park bench and continued to stare into the ambient depths of the aged gem she turned over in her palm. Far off stars dissipating into the morning sky cast their dying light onto the surfaces and intricacies within, and illuminated the stone with a soft hue. The fog’s coolness seemed to wrap around her again, bringing to mind the comforting embrace of her father. Staring into his eyes was like staring into the gentle warmth of the sun itself: loving and life-giving, the sweetest kind of warm imaginable. The elements around her formed an image of his deep, tender face, bright with life and vivacity, with a smile as wide and welcoming as it was when she was little.
Her eyes closed, the image still sealed in her memory, and she felt her mind drift back to the sound of his voice. So often he would add little twists to the way he would call out her name; the playful falsetto that used to make her giggle, the delicate ring he made when she was sick and needed company, the rather romantic smoothness he would use when teaching her how to dance. “That’s what they look like, honey,” his mellifluous voice rang in her head, “The most beautiful crystals in the whole world.” Every time those words came to her head she could feel her father’s comforting arm around her shoulder, along with every detail, down to the individual pressure of each finger, and the rubbing of his thumb along her shoulder.
One spring morning, when she was up earlier with her dad than usual, he took her on a scenic route to get to their ceremonial outpost. After a few mountainous turns into the route, a flash of light from out of nowhere flew over the car’s hood, grazing the windshield slightly. The loud thump woke Crystal up and her dad brought the car to an immediate halt. The anomaly turned out to be a spooked deer that had jumped across the road to safety, in a rather large sense of irony.
Now alone, out on the lake, that surprising spooked deer reemerged in the form of a resurrected voice she had heard only in her mind for the longest time; a voice lost in time, and one whose sweetness in memories could never be matched by the real thing. The nostalgic voice seemed to come from all around her all at once, at first in the form of a whisper, and growing steadily as it repeated itself. She felt a touch of gentle warmth on her shoulder and suddenly the voice was clear and crisp.
“Crystal.”
“Daddy,” she replied in a light sigh without hesitation. Her glistening blue eyes opened suddenly and she moved impulsively to lean into his voice, wrapping her arms around the torso she never imagined she would see again. He felt warm, thick and palpable, but most importantly he felt more real than anything that had happened that morning. Years of thinking her childhood memories would remain memories were all of a sudden wiped away, along with the world around them in that moment. Time seemed to stand still as it did when she used to sit on his shoulders all those years ago. Wordlessly she began to cry into his light coat as she felt his arm wrap around her back, holding her securely.
She could hear him holding back a tear at the sudden reunion; a thin sniffle seeping into his soft breathing, which he tried to hide with a sigh of relief. “There, there, honey. Daddy’s here now. Everything will be alright.” His renewed hands ran through her smooth, freshly washed hair.
Crystal couldn’t manage a word for a full minute. Each time she tried to form a word, she sniffled and cried a bit more, almost to the point where it became painful to cry any more. A trail of dark spots marked where her eyes had leaked onto his old pale-blue jeans. Quietly, her father continued to stroke her back, the same way he always used to when she was little. She felt like a child again with her head on his lap and her knees pulled into her chest.
She felt her mouth turn dry as she tried to form a word her mind refused to wrap around. “H…How…” Her lip quivered and she turned her head around to look at his beaming face. No detail about it was skewed; his thin facial hair, the curve of his nose, his slightly rugged complexion, and the way his eyes fell perfectly into place under his brow. She could feel her mind starting to tumble over the cliff all over again. How do I know you’re real… She clenched her eyes and shook her head at the thought, tightening her grip slightly around her father. If this was a dream, she thought, she didn’t want it to end.
“Shhh, honey, it’s alright now.” Her father seemed to know exactly what she needed to hear. His hand rubbed a slow gentle circle over her back, giving her a lovely warm sensation.
His daughter took a quick shallow breath and tried to concentrate on her words, fumbling over her thickening emotions. “I-I thought I… I never thought…” She tripped over every word she tried to mumble, and she resorted to digging her face into her father’s shirt. Crystal could feel her body trembling with overflowing joy, and she didn’t know if she would be able to handle it without breaking down entirely. With a desperate burst of the last of her will, she collected herself and sat up a little, though still leaning into her father’s open arms. “How are you- you’re supposed to be… this can’t be…”
“Sweetie, don’t worry about that right now… There is nothing to worry about.” His arm went around her shoulder and he kissed her cool forehead.
She reflexively sniffled at the feel of his warm lips touching her skin, leaving a tingling sensation that hung in the dense air for several seconds. “Are you… a ghost?” She tried to make herself look and sound like an innocent child.
Her father chuckled lightly, “You don’t believe in ghosts, dear.” Her look toward him remained unchanged and he sighed through a laugh. “You never could leave things alone, could you? You know, it’s not really important what I am, or how I’m here right now,” he replied, combing through her thick hair. “But I suppose you could say I’m sort of a memory; a part of you- a part you never realized until now.” Crystal opened her mouth to speak but he quickly interrupted, as he always did. “My, how you’ve grown honey, let me have a look at you.” He lifted her chin delicately and brushed his thumb over her smooth cheek, as if he were examining a priceless piece of china; a masterpiece of artwork. “You look so beautiful,” his words floated through the fog and hung in balance with nature itself. “And oh, I could never forget your wonderful eyes. So dazzling, like the rarest and most precious gems anyone could hope to find.”
She winced as she giggled, trying to hide her blush. “No they’re not,” the daughter replied playfully.
“Oh, yes they are! The most beautiful crystals in the world.” Almost as if reading her mind, he reached down and picked up the crystal hanging around her neck, holding the dazzling stone full of life up to her.
Crystal took it and held it up to the foggy barrier before them, and grinned as a multitude of colors came shining through it. Curiously, the mixture gave the crystal a pinkish hue, despite the dark blues and occasional greens around them. The feeling of her father’s arm around her made her shake away the skepticism and she looked into her father’s sparkling eyes with youthful wonder. His hugs had always been magical.
“I missed you so much, sweetheart,” he cooed in a tender soft murmur. His hand continued to stroke over her back rhythmically, in sync with her own heartbeat.
A tear from the sea of her unbridled happiness rolled slowly over her right cheek. She had to sniffle again just to say a word. “I missed you too, dad,” she replied softly. Her father carefully pushed her hair away from her eye. “Daddy, I-I’m scared… All the things that have been happening… And I can’t do anything to help…”
“Crystal-”
“What’s gonna happen?”
“Honey-”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Crystal!” Her father laughed a little and put his gentle fingers over her mouth. After a pause he released her lips and calmly stroked her hair. “Don’t be afraid, honey. Remember what I used to tell you? Everything has a purpose, right? This bench to hold us; this tree produces air to support life. My purpose was to be your father, and yours… to spread your beautiful light into this world, like the Sun in the East.”
Crystal took a quivering breath and allowed the silence to drift around them freely, letting the tenderness fall on them like a fresh sheet thrown over her bed at night. What he said had always been the basis of what he used to teach her about life’s mysteries. Searching for the ‘why,’ while going a step further than where most people would be satisfied, to explore deeper. Combined with what she could feel in her innate abilities, the world was her resource, and it was gaining new information every day. Though her ambitions were high and her intentions good, her father helped her to stay in check between knowledge and wisdom. Knowing everything was one thing, but it was something completely different to know what really mattered, and how to apply it. That, he always said, was to be wise.
“I… I just don’t have a clue anymore,” she sighed sorrowfully. “Something’s wrong, I don’t know what’s going on, or how to stop it, or what I’m supposed to do… All of my friends- my teacher, they’ve all-” She stuttered, not having any idea how to explain to her father that everyone she knew was mysteriously vanishing, each being replaced by strange creatures that only existed in her childhood imagination.
“I know, dear, I know,” he interrupted with a fatherly pat on the back. Crystal pursed her lips discreetly, not certain her father understood the gravity of her situation. Before she could say anything, he continued on in his sage dialect. “From time to time, you’re going to stumble and fall, no matter how good your balance. You’ll find yourself lost, even if you know exactly where you are. Nobody is perfect, and that doesn’t mean you have to be.” She closed her eyes and nodded slowly, and rested her head against his arm. “You are going to feel the weight of the world on your shoulders and more, and will have no idea what to do. But you’re clever!” He smiled and rubbed her head teasingly. “Concentrate on your inner feelings. You will know what you must do, and you will feel it in here,” carefully he took her hand and placed it over the right side of her chest. She held it in place and tucked her head against his shoulder. “Always walk with your heart, not with your eyes. Trust, don’t think.” For a moment he embraced her longingly. “Before you know it, your solution will just pop right out of the sky!”
She knew there was no use in denying what he said, because it was all true, every word of it. Despite that fact, she reprimanded herself for not having realized it all sooner, before becoming the worried stressed-out mess she was. It could have been as simple as putting her foot down, lecturing herself about paying attention to what was really important, and not losing herself under the weight of the world. As upset as she was with herself, however, she knew it was completely futile. There was no way she would have been able to set herself straight all on her own.
“Honey, listen,” he continued, his voice gathering more sincerity. “Whenever you feel lost, or sad or scared; whenever you feel alone, always remember to listen to your heart. That is where I’ve been all these years, and that is where I always will be.”
Her eyes opened at his lingering words and she gazed up into his face with a glint of anxiety. “Y- You’re not leaving again, are you?” She could feel her lower jaw begin to shake, already anticipating what was coming.
Instead of shaking his head, he smiled and rubbed her hair. The corners of his eyes narrowed into the fatherly grin that his expression never looked complete without. “I never really left, dear; I’ve always been watching over you, and let me tell you: no father could ever be more proud of his daughter.”
Not a single heartbeat could pass before Crystal’s blue eyes were flooded with a sudden rush of rapturous tears. Her mind raced across the stars, and she couldn’t even begin to think of what to say. Her eyes were clenched as tight as her arms were wrapped around her father, who strongly fought the tears himself. Such the fatherly figure he was, she remarked, that he could still make her smile even long after he was gone. The mist around them sifted in the air, thinning out slowly as if a veil had been lifted from her drenched eyes. She no longer felt the shunning humidity she struggled to move and see through. The weight had finally been taken from her shoulders. In the arms of her long-lost father, everything felt perfect, even if she knew it wouldn’t last, and she would have to return to reality soon.
Once again she latched herself onto the large arm that was wrapped around her chest and held it tightly. “I love you, daddy,” she sighed desperately.
“I love you too, sweetheart,” he replied in a gentle hushed tone. With his free arm he held her hand, interlocking their fingers and laying a kiss on her forehead. “Promise me you’ll believe in yourself, no matter what.”
Crystal gazed into his loving eyes which beamed with tenderness, and nodded. She sniffled and squeezed his arm slightly tighter; he used to be able to lift her up onto his shoulder with it, until she turned six and became a little too heavy for him. Still he always found ways of making her feel more special and more loved than any little girl in the world. And about fifteen years later, on a park bench in a big city far from home, she had never felt more special in all her life.
“I love you, daddy.”
“I love you too, Crystal.” Once more he tightened his loving embrace, sharing in the silence of the morning.
Only on that park bench, far away from home, did the words that her father always spoke to her as a child finally begin to materialize and take form. They swirled around her, permeating the fog, and filled the space with an unworldly illumination. She could feel warmth within the cool air, like small invisible pockets of energy. Her glowing eyes were focused on something beyond the clouds. In her palm, her gemstone radiated sunlight. As he would do when she was very young, guided by her dad’s hand, she raised the crystal up to eye-level, allowing it to blossom with colorful light. The message her father came to give her settled into her mind, and as the light bloomed, the messenger whose strong arms could never grow tired of holding her faded from view.
Alone again. Crystal sighed and let the necklace fall back to her chest. The world around her was still blanketed with fog, albeit thinner, and still very dark. The glowing emotion in her eyes was dimming, but the determination left behind by the dreamy encounter glazed rigidly over her them. Her pale irises swirled like the fog around her and she blinked, all traces of the radiance seeping into her soul.
Extending her hand, the spot beside her on the bench was as damp and cool as it was earlier. No possible evidence of her father’s presence was to be found anywhere around her, however before doubt could sprinkle over her consciousness, a warm heartbeat echoed in her ears. Right away she recognized it, not as her own, and a blithe smile lit up her face.
She felt a spark prick her mind, begging her attention towards the southeast. There was nothing to be seen through the unlit fog, but as she stared, her eyes flickered and a strange pang hit her stomach. Suddenly she was falling again, though not over a cliff, but rather her tumble altered into something of a free-fall, reorganizing into a steady glide. Random pulses of an invisible force whipped and beat against her head. In her mind she could perceive what her imagination could only estimate to be a bird of some sort. Focusing more, she made out the outline of a sparrow, seldom beating its wings during a steady descent. It was fast approaching; she squinted, eyes glowing dimly, and saw the shadow quickly come into view. In a single swoop the reddish-brown sparrow lifted up and landed right next to her, where her father had been sitting less than a minute ago. A foreign plastic object tumbled from its claws and fell onto the ground between the wooden slats of the seat. A glint of loyalty reflected in its black marble eyes.
“Err…Hello, little guy…” Crystal, bewildered, looked from the clouds where the sparrow had darted in from, and back to its tiny eyes. Its head tilted and mimicked her own curious, angled gaze. She swore she could pick up a tiny smile on the slender beak. Breaking eye contact, if one could effectively do so with a bird, she reached under the bench and gracefully picked up the cargo the bird had dropped. “What’s this?” She fingered the rounded edges before turning it over. Her eyebrows rose and her eyes beamed curiously. It was a temporary driver’s license.
Before you know it, your solution will just pop right out of the sky! her father’s last remarks echoed as she read the name on the driver’s license aloud:
“Eric L. Listia?” As soon as she saw the eyes on the noticeably timid mug shot, her mind was immediately barreling down the corridors of her memory banks. The rush thrilled and amazed her, and especially the speed with which she systematically remembered everything: the notably shy teen, younger than all of the other interns, who spoke little but enjoyed a laugh- especially when it wasn’t his. Blonde hair, bluish green eyes. Loved photography. Wait, what? She could not recall ever actually knowing that. He never really got the chance to tell anybody anything personal. How could she have known that, she wondered intently.
Her eyes turned pale and dull as she felt reality slowly melt around her. The fog shifted and blurred her vision, like a mirror condensed after a warm shower. A shroud of her mind’s eye spun together an illustration of what she had not seen before: Eric, changing out of his scrubs, grabbing his camera and taking a taxi up from the regional hospital to the forest park which overlooked the lake’s south side. Like the buzz of an alarm clock during a good dream, Crystal felt a sort of indescribable, intangible danger or distress from another corner of the spectrum of her thought, emanating southward toward the forest: adrenaline, fear, a loud piercing sound that ruptured the gentle tranquility; a deer in her headlights. Before she could make out any details, her vision was flooded with green vegetation rushing past her. Colors blended with the golden sun, still setting and casting shadowy pits under every bush. Nature swirled into darkness, leaving behind a trail of disarray, an unnatural metallic casing, and the smell of uncertain death lingering in the air.
Immediately her eyes shot open and she jumped up from the park bench, landing on the ground running and launching into a sprint. A flash of light lit up her eyes as she made her way to the road leading up to the forest, her racing heart leading the charge.
The nightmarish sensation of endless falling was left far behind her. All of her fears were blown out like a candle, leaving a weaving smoke trail that was lost in the mist. Her legs felt distant. The impact of each footstep on the ground was muffled. A new candle lit up her smiling face; for once in a long time she was truly free from worry. She closed her sharp eyes for a second, and she was back on the tall strong shoulders of her father. Her young hands extended out to her sides as she flew through the clouds with him, and her smile grew into a warm, glistening laugh of determination.
When she opened her eyes, she was taken away by the sudden entrapment she felt. There were significantly more trees than before. Wait, how long have I been running? she thought, almost out loud. She slowed to a gentle pace and looked around, completely surrounded on both sides by trees lining the wide empty road. The cool clearer air felt thin, but thick with the smell of a wide assortment of fresh trees covered in morning dew. Behind her there were several curves in the inclined road, marking a steep elevation. On the distant horizon, beyond the thick barricade of trees, the sky was noticeably brighter than before, though she estimated there was still about a half hour before the sunrise. “Wait, huh?” she questioned before taking out her cell phone to check the time. Almost twenty minutes had passed since she started her climb, all in a matter of what felt like two seconds. A loud gust of icy wind rushed up the road and snapped her confusion, pushing her forward. In two more seconds she was sprinting faster than before, with the concerns of anxious mind and tired body pushed out of focus by her invigorated heart.
Around the next turn up ahead, the road became engulfed in a canopy of thick overgrowth, and the scent of crisp natural air became stronger, filling her spirit. Racing through the tunnel of trees, lit only by an occasional emergency lamp and the reflectors in the road she finally came across a large carved wooden sign about twice her height. A quick glance told her it was an ancient sign, or at least crafted long before she was born, cut and well-treated from an old fallen tree with a trunk several feet wide. It must have been some gigantic tree, larger than any in the whole forest, she guessed. The groups of leaves scattered on the road were becoming thicker as she progressed on, suggesting that she was getting closer to the entrance. Eyes glowing still, she could feel the metal bars of the park gate, cold and motionless, but thankfully open, a few hundred feet away.
Her eyes fell closed again and allowed her senses to detect any danger. However rather than getting a vast scan of the forest like she had expected, a cold wet slap in the face from something thin and flimsy broke her concentration. Her hand instinctively grabbed hold of the intrusion and ripped it from her face. It was nothing quite like what she would have guessed: official cautionary yellow-and-black plastic tape, draped all the way across the mountainous highway between two large trees. “Crime Scene Do Not Cross” was printed in big dimly-lit letters, leaving a thin margin above and below each letter.
“Hmm,” she pondered. “Didn’t see that coming.” Without another thought she ducked under the tape and carefully made her way past more crime scene tape, clumsily wrapped across the width of the road. Whoever strung the tape, she remarked, was going to have quite a time unstringing it all.