The sun shines golden through the branches of the plumeria tree and spreads warm across my back like a comforting hand, rubbing up and down along my spine and between my shoulders. I sit facing the open field of grass, waiting. I have been waiting all day, standing and sitting and pacing in the same place for hours, but I am still alone. I look down at the grass where a pile of paper cranes lay folded in a heap of colors and wings, and I feel a burning in the back of my throat. Flashes of crinkled eyes, soft hands, and berry-tinted smiles overwhelm me. I no longer have any of that. All I have now are my paper cranes and my memories.

When I was younger, my grandmother would take me to the park down the block for picnics. There was never a scheduled day for them and never a reason, just a desire to be with each other under the open sky. She would pack a basket full of strawberries and string cheese and tea and origami paper, and we would walk hand-in-hand to lounge on the pokey grass under our favorite tree. It wasn’t our favorite because it was the best, not by a long shot. It was our favorite because it was ours. And like so many other things, she made it feel special to sit there, under that sparsely flowered tree, eating and making stories out of the clouds. We would pass hours sitting in the grass and feeling the setting sun on our skin and the cool breeze settle in our lungs. We never spoke much of the world that lay outside our time together, not because it wasn’t important, but because we could never remember it when we lay next to each other.

One day in particular stands at the forefront of my mind whenever I think back on our picnics now. I was 10-years-old, too young to understand the importance of the moment, but looking back, the memory shines golden with long stretching shadows behind it.

My grandmother was just finishing her story about a brave warrior girl riding a dragon into battle in the sky above us when something caught her eye. She had stopped speaking so abruptly I thought something was wrong, but when I looked over to her, her eyes were wide and bright. I turned my eyes to the sky again, but saw nothing other than the separating body of the warrior girl in the clouds and a bird flying towards us.

“Nainai,” I called out to her. “What is it? Why did you stop the story?”

“Ni kan,” my grandmother replied. “Look at the sky, xiao gui. Do you see?”

I looked up again only to see the bird landing several feet away from us. I was about to tell my grandmother I couldn’t find what she wanted me to see, but she sat up and turned to look at the bird. I followed her up and looked too.

A white crane. Standing in the grass, searching for bugs to eat. 

“The bird?” I asked. Is that what she wanted me to see?

“No, not a bird, xiao gui,” she said. “This is a crane.”

I nodded. “Yeah, like the ones we make with our origami paper sometimes.”

“Dui, exactly,” my grandmother said with approval. “These cranes… they are special. Do you know why?”

I sat there, my fingers picking at the grass and my eyes focused on the bird. “I don’t know,” I mumbled, not particularly in the mood for any kind of story that didn’t involve the clouds.

“In our culture, the crane is a symbol of longevity and immortality. That means living forever, never dying. Very powerful, huh?” She looked at me and I nodded dutifully. Satisfied, she turned her eyes to the sky. “Spirits would ride their wings up to the heavens, and when they flew back down they would offer guidance to young heroes.” Her smile turned wistful. “But most importantly, xiao gui, cranes have been saving our family for generations.”

I was intrigued, clouds forgotten I asked, “What do you mean?”

“The times when I felt most lost in this world, when I felt there was no hope left, I would look outside and find a white crane standing in the grass or amongst the trees,” she said in a soft voice. “They are a message from my ancestors. I believe my mother’s spirit guides me through them, and she comes to remind me that peace always comes after great hardship.”

My grandmother inhaled deeply and looked to me again.

“When I was a little girl, like you, my mother told stories of cranes leading her from danger. She once told me a beautiful white crane made her stray from her path on the way home. It led her into the cover of a forest just before a group of thieving men came up the other side of the hill. Had she stayed on her way, she would have been robbed, or worse.”

I sat in the grass, staring at my grandmother before shifting my gaze back to the crane. “What is the crane here for now, nainai?”

At that, my grandmother gave a soft sigh before placing a warm and gentle hand between my shoulders. “She is here to remind us that there will be peace after hardship.”

It wasn’t until seven months later that I would learn my grandmother had cancer, that she was dying. Just like the golden memory of our picnic, I couldn’t understand the moment I was living in. All I knew was what she had told me, that there would be peace after hardship, and I held onto that as tightly as I held onto her.

We continued our picnics, but in a different way. We could no longer lie in the grass at the park, but we still ate strawberries and drank tea. And I made her paper cranes. I made one for her every time I visited, and they seemed to work like magic. As soon as I would place the colorful bird down in front of her, she would smile and her breath would come just a little easier. But it wasn’t enough. The paper cranes couldn’t save her, couldn’t lead her away from this danger, or give her immortality. And as much I hoped and prayed for a flash of white feathers to appear before her and make it better, they never came. So all I had to give were my paper cranes that weren’t nearly enough. But they made her smile, so I never stopped making them.

In the end, I made her more paper cranes than I could count in the span of a year and a half. She never threw one of them away, not a single one. And at her funeral, I placed a single white crane at her headstone, so she could ride it up to heaven.

Now, months later, I am sitting in the place that I still call ours, and the clouds above me are shapeless and meaningless, like most things. The days have been bare and dark. There is no direction I can turn where I don’t feel a chilling breeze and an echoing emptiness. A heavy weight follows me everywhere, and I am lost. I have been lost since she left me, and no number of paper cranes could possibly reassure me that anything will be alright now. But paper cranes are all I have because she is gone. And there are no white-feathered saviors to free me from this feeling. So I get up, gather my things, and begin the trek back home where I’m sure my parents have not yet noticed my absence. 

As I wait on the sidewalk of a wide and busy street, I feel the warmth seep from my skin as the chill returns. My eyes feel heavy and my chest is tight, but the traffic lights have changed and they say I have to keep moving, so I step out onto the crosswalk in a steady shuffle. My head wants to hang low, but before I can droop further down into myself, something catches my eye. 

It’s her.

Across the street, on a freshly mowed lawn, stands my grandmother. Her feathers absorb the light from the setting sun and make her seem like a vision from another world, another time. I stop where I stand, in the middle of the crosswalk, and I stare. I can feel my heart beating and my breath coming in unsteady gasps. I stay frozen, unwilling to move because she’s here. My grandmother has finally come and I can feel a glimmer of something light inside of me.

Then I realize where I am, and I begin to move, but before I can take another step, my grandmother looks up from where she had been searching for grub and looks at me. I stop again. Not three seconds later, something fast and big rushes past me. I gasp as I feel the air of the speeding car blow my hair around my face.

I am shocked. I turn my head to see the car that surely would have killed me if I hadn’t stopped where I was already fading from view. Then I turn back to my grandmother who still stands there looking at me. And I laugh. I laugh because I haven’t in so long and I feel light and I know my grandmother has saved me. 

I run the rest of the way across the street, looking in every direction as I go. When my feet finally land on the sidewalk, I look to where my grandmother had been standing only to see her fly away, job done.

And I want to be sad again. I want to be upset that she had been gone for so long and left again too soon, but I find that I can’t. Not in this moment. Because I can finally appreciate my moments with her while I am in them. And I find that in this moment, there is peace.

The end.

I feel shallow. The depths of what is surface to me have yet to be explored.

What determines surface but a beginning to an end of what has been known as depth, the end of the sky known as my surface.

The surface of me, the surface of you, the surface of the ocean, ever so blue.

When I look in the shallows of who I am, I find nothing but reflection, the confused face of mirrors trying to see past what is only there for vanity, for an escape from holding your breath as you deep dive.

Surface is a gasping breath and the fear of losing the air which you have become accustom to in the time you have been above the depths.

I am gasping to the surface and I stay there because I am afraid to drown.

Bright, bursting, bubbling over

Uncontainable, uncontrollable

It’s getting what you’ve always wanted

Feeling your fingertips brush against it

Holding it in your hand

Bringing it to your chest

It’s a thousand fireworks going off 

Starlight falling around you like rain

Instead of loud booming

there’s only a soft tinkling as you watch colors surround you

It’s hard, soundless laughter that steals your breath 

but fills you with something even better

Like you’re a balloon

and joy is your helium

It’s sandy toes and sandy smiles

and not caring about sandy butts

It’s a cannonball into cool water on a hot day

and surfacing to the sound of laughter

It’s waking up to the sunlight instead of a ringing alarm

and smiling because you want to

It’s fuzzy socks on rainy day

and the steam of your tea tickling your nose

It’s dancing in your empty apartment to your favorite song

and jumping around until your hair sticks to your forehead

Joy is small, except when it’s big

Joy is quiet, except when it’s loud

Joy is mine, except when it’s ours

Joy is indescribable and joy is everything

There is a terrible crashing by the shoreline; the waves draw and drown and drag pieces of herself

lying helplessly, haphazardly, unaware of the consequences of existing near the chaos.

She stands alone, watching in silent wonder, in a quiet kind of fear, waiting to be

drawn, drowned, and dragged down into the maelstrom of helpless things.

She stands alone, toes caught in cement sand, grasping, grabbing, refusing to relinquish control.

She stands alone, the spitting spray of the ocean waves stinging and sticking to her face.

She stands alone, wind screaming and screeching her weakness into the echo of her mind.

Everything is howling, crashing, tired of the noise but unable to stop it.

She stands alone in the caress of a gentle wave.

There is a terrible quiet by the shoreline; it descends suddenly, surprisingly.

The waves are lapping at her toes, freeing them from their prison,

from the tight grasping and grabbing that held her

down to be drawn, drowned, and dragged.

There is a quiet by the shoreline.

She moves into the water,

smiling now, no fear.

She stands alone,

free, in the

quiet.

Audrey couldn’t believe it. Not even as she held the smooth silk of it as evidence in her hands. There was no possible way that this could be real. But it had to be. Her dreams were never this vivid or happy.

She let out a disbelieving huff of air, staring at the shiny material laid across her lap. The edges of the cape were frayed from use, and Audrey ran her fingers over the loose pieces of thread, smiling as they tickled her fingers. She rubbed the small tag at the neck with her initials on it, the sharpie marks long since faded. The smooth green silk shone like a beacon of happiness. She wanted to rub her face against it, wrap it around her shoulders, just to see if it felt the same as it did when she was a child. So she did. And only when she felt the familiar comfort and excitement of draping her cape across her shoulders, did she believe that this was real.

Audrey laughed giddily as she stood and felt the cape flutter behind her. The green material now fell to the middle of her back instead of her calves, but it was just as impressive as it had been all those years ago. She rushed to look at herself in the full length mirror propped up in the corner of her living room, and smiled widely as the sun bounced off the material perfectly.

The sudden ringing of her work phone startled her out of her cape-induced reverie. She reluctantly left her mirror image to answer the shrill call of reality.

“Hello, this is Audrey from Get Good publications. How may I help you?”

“Audrey, honey, no need to be so formal,” her mom’s teasing voice came through the other end.

“Mom,” she exclaimed, her excitement skyrocketing, forgetting to reprimand her mother for calling the wrong phone again, “I can’t believe you found my cape! I thought it was lost forever.”

15 Years Ago...

Audrey’s high-pitched laughter rang through the trees, scaring a few birds from their perches. She ran fast through the leaves, throwing her hands back to feel her cape flying behind her, flapping in the wind like her own personal freedom flag.

She stopped suddenly in front of a particularly large tree, arms akimbo. “Give me back the princess, Mr. Bad,” Audrey shouted.

The tree swayed in the wind, but did not reply. Audrey stomped her foot in indignation. “Give her-” a strong gust of wind stopped Audrey’s demand. The trees creaked with the force of the gale, leaves flew up and around Audrey, surrounding her in color and dust. She felt the wind whip through her short hair, felt her cape tangle in the leaves and dance in the breeze until the wind stopped and Audrey couldn’t feel anything. There was no reassuring weight draped across her shoulders, no smooth silk caressing her bare forearms as she stood.

Her cape was gone.

Audrey started panting as she turned around and around, searching for any sign of the emerald shine she was so fond of, but there was nothing.

“No,” she whispered as tears pricked her eyes, making her nose sting. She refused to accept that her cape was gone.

She ran deeper into the forest, in the direction the wind had blown. She needed that cape. She wouldn’t go home without it.

As Audrey stomped through the forest, she came upon a clearing with a small shack of a house in the middle. The sun had begun to set, casting the surrounding trees in a golden light, but that didn’t do much to make the house look any more welcoming. Audrey was smart for a seven year old. She remembered what her dad told her about going into the woods alone and about strangers. This was a stranger’s house and she was alone. Audrey didn’t want to go into the house, but what if her cape was over there?

Audrey sighed and pouted. She didn’t know what to do. She knew her dad would be mad that she left the trees at the edge of their backyard, but he would forgive her. If she went into the little house, she would never be allowed to go outside again. But what was the point of going outside if she didn’t have her cape? Audrey’s pout deepened in thought.

She would just circle the house, see if her cape got caught on the window or something, then she’d go back home. Maybe her mom would help her look for her cape if she begged hard enough.

Present-Day...

Audrey remembered the disappointment she felt when she hadn’t found the cape by the little shack, and she remembered crying all night when her mom and dad refused to help look for the cape as punishment for wandering too far. But the next day, her parents had taken her to the animal shelter to pick out a puppy, and her previous companion had been almost forgotten, until today.

Her mom laughed, bringing Audrey back to reality. “What’re you talking about, honey?”

“My cape,” she replied with an eye roll. “I just got it in the mail today.” Audrey moved around and smiled as she felt it swish behind her. “Thanks for this, Mom, really.”

“Well, as much as I’d like to take credit for making you so happy, I didn’t send you the cape,” her mom replied, “I thought it was lost forever too.”

Audrey’s eyebrows furrowed before she remembered she had two parents. “Did Dad send it then?”

“Let me ask.” There were muffled shouts on the other side of the line. “Nope, he didn’t send it either.”

Audrey’s furrowed brow returned. “Weird,” she replied.

“Do you know anyone else who would send it to you?”

“No,” Audrey said after a few seconds. She didn’t have a lot of friends back home, and not many people knew her, so there really wasn’t anyone besides her parents who could have found and returned her cape.

“Maybe it flew into someone’s yard from the woods and they knew it was yours,” her mom suggested.

“But how would they know where I live?” Audrey replied skeptically.

“Yeah, that wouldn’t make sense would it?” her mom mumbled, and Audrey could almost hear her thinking. “Is there a return address, or a note that came with the package, honey?”

Audrey hadn’t thought to check, but she quickly moved to the end of the couch to examine the destroyed remains of the cape-containing package. As she rifled through the brown ripped up wrapping, she saw a flash of white.

“Ah ha!” she shouted in victory. “There’s a note.”

“What does it say?”

“Hold on, I’m getting there,” Audrey replied testily as she righted herself on the couch.

“All right, grumpy pants.”

Audrey shook her head at the jibe. “It says,” she flipped it over to read and frowned, “‘Enjoy.’”

“No name?”

“No name.”

“Weird.”

Before her mom could offer any more comforting words, the line beeped with an incoming call.

Audrey pulled the phone away from her ear. “Hey, mom, I’m getting another call. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Sure, honey, just...be careful.”

“Don’t worry, mom. I’ll be fine,” she reassured her, despite the unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“All right, I know how busy you are, so I’ll let you go, but we’ll talk about this later.”

“Okay, love you, bye,” Audrey said quickly.

“All right, all right, love you, honey.”

“Love you too,” Audrey said more genuinely this time and hung up to answer the incoming call. “Hello, this is Audrey from -”

“You got the package,” the voice on the other side interrupted.

Audrey’s heart started beating faster at the chilling thrill in the stranger’s voice. “Who is this?”

“That’s not important right now,” the voice replied; it sounded like a man. “What’s important is that you have the cape.” There was a brief pause. “You have the cape, right?”

Audrey was debating on whether she should hang up or ask more questions. She decided on questions. “How do you know about my cape? Who are you?”

“As I said, not important,” the man said, voice quiet, “Are you happy?”

Audrey was taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“Are you happy?” the man repeated, more demanding this time.

“I guess,” she replied slowly.

The man sighed in what sounded like relief. “Good. That’s good. All I want is for you to be happy, Audrey. You have to know that.”

“Who are you,” Audrey demanded, looking anxiously around her living room.

The man chuckled lightly. “I guess you can call me a secret admirer, an old friend…”

A chill ran down her spine. “So I know you?”

“No,” he replied, “but I know you.”

Audrey didn’t know why, but she needed to know more. “What’s your name?”

“I’ve been waiting such a long time to contact you, to hear your voice speaking directly into my ear,” he took a deep breath, ignoring her question. “It’s intoxicating. Everything about you is intoxicating. But what drew me to you was that cape you have on your shoulders now.” Audrey stopped breathing. “That’s why I waited so long. I wanted the first time we met to be special. I wanted you to be happy. But most of all I wanted you to be wearing that cape.”

Audrey was frozen in fear. “Who are you?” she whispered.

“Do you remember the day you lost your cape? Do you remember where you went to look for it?”

Audrey’s mind flashed an image of the little shack in the middle of the woods. “Was that your home?”

He chuckled darkly. “Good girl. Although home isn’t exactly the word I’d use to describe it, yes, that was my home, and that was where I first saw you,” the man sighed. “And I mean the first time I really saw you. I had noticed you before, at school, sitting by yourself all the time, always with that cape, but I didn’t think much of you. It wasn’t until that day, when you were running around my house, looking so desperate and lonely, so...so helpless that I-,” he paused and laughed fondly, “that I fell in love. From then on, I vowed to always be by your side, or as close to your side as I could be, so you would never be alone or helpless again.”

“You-you’re,” she stuttered, “You’re crazy. I-I’ve never even seen you! I don’t know you,” tears gathered in her eyes, “I don’t-”

“But you do know me, Audrey,” he said her name reverently, “and you have seen me. You’ve seen me everyday since you moved away from home. I’m right there in front of you, holding the door open for you as you come home from work or from the grocery store or,” he inhaled, “from a date.”

Audrey couldn’t speak. This man, this terrifying stalker, was her doorman? No, it couldn’t be; her doorman was nice, normal. He had to be lying.

“I would never lie to you, Audrey,” the man said darkly. Apparently Audrey had spoken her mind.

The longer she thought about it, the more it made sense. Her doorman always asked so many questions about her, about where she was going, who she was seeing, what she was doing. She had thought he was being friendly, but he had just wanted to track her.

Audrey’s heart was pounding wildly in her chest and her head was spinning with all of this new information being thrown at her. Through it all, she didn’t know why she couldn’t hang up. Was she insane? Why did she keep listening to him instead of calling the police?

“Listen, I know it’s a lot to take in, but now we can finally, officially meet,” he chirped, “face to face.”

Audrey dreaded asking the question, but she had to know. “Where are you?”

“Oh,” he said sounding surprised, “I’m right here.”

There was a knock at her door and the line went dead.

To be continued...

Her clothes were sopping wet and her lips were trembling as she basically sprinted across the pavement. ‘Of course a hurricane decides to hit on the one day I decide I don’t need my umbrella,’ Alex thought ruefully. This day couldn’t possibly get any worse.

Then, as if the universe was specifically tuned into her business so it could make her life as difficult as possible, she ran face first into another wet body. She swore under her breath as she backed away from the small figure she had almost tackled in her haste to get home.

“I’m sorry,” she yelled above the sound of pouring rain as she swiped her wet hair out of her face and bent down to pick up the book she had dropped, “I didn’t see you there.” As she slowly rose to look at the stranger’s face for the first time, she stopped short.

She had just bulldozed a blind old lady.

“That’s all right, honey,” she replied with a light chuckle, her voice lilting with a Louisiana twang, “I didn’t see you coming either.”

Oh, god. She didn’t know how to respond. ‘Was that a blind joke? Do I laugh? Does she want me to laugh? I mean she was the one who made the blind joke. Or maybe it wasn’t a joke and laughing would make me seem like a jerk,’ Alex thought, panicking slightly at the uncomfortable situation she had just literally run into.

She didn’t know what to say or what to do, so she just let out another, “I’m sorry,” looking at the ground and realizing she had knocked the old lady’s walking stick out of her hand. She quickly bent down to retrieve it with a contrite expression on her face.

As she carefully returned the walking stick, another thought entered her overactive mind: Why was this little old lady out here in this storm all by herself?

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Alex started, voicing her thoughts, “what exactly are you doing out here on your own?” Alex questioned, shouting over the whistling wind.

“I went on a walk gone wrong,” she replied turning her head slightly and smiling at Alex, “Apparently, the day wasn’t as nice as I imagined.”

Alex’s eyebrows furrowed together in concern, “Do you have anyone to walk you home?” she asked, looking around at the empty sidewalks.

The old lady’s smile faltered before she replied, shaking her head, “No, it’s just me, honey.”

And all of a sudden Alex was facing a moral dilemma. Should she take this little, helpless old lady back to her house and risk possibly being kidnapped by her secret associates, or should she just wish her the best of luck and make a break for the bus stop? Her options whirled around her head for a while, her eyes tracking the now approaching bus, before she mentally shook herself and lightly touched the old lady’s elbow to let her know she hadn’t been quietly abandoned.

“Would it be okay if I walked you home?” Alex asked with a slight shrug of her shoulders.

“Oh, honey, you don’t have to do that,” she said, shaking her head again.

“No, I want to,” Alex quickly reassured.

The old lady smiled widely, her cheeks crinkling like fine layers of chocolate, “Well all right then,” she stated with a small nod, “to 54th Monument View we go!”

Alex gaped at the little old lady for a few seconds before putting her brain back in her head. There was no way that this lady lived in the richest, snobbiest community in all of New Orleans. There was no way. But then Alex took a better look at her. This wasn’t your normal, run of the mill grandma; she was fancy. Decked out in elegant silk and understated, yet clearly valuable, jewelry this little old lady looked like a classic, wealthy TV grandma.

“O-okay,” Alex stuttered, taking the old lady by the elbow, “let’s go.”

15 minutes later and the pair of rain soaked women arrived at a grandiose, one-story white house.

“I think this is it?” Alex questioned, turning to look at the lady attached to her elbow, whose name she learned was Orena.

Orena repeated her address and Alex nodded, confirming the location before remembering her that her current company was visually impaired.

“This is definitely it,” Alex stated loudly, rain water running into her eyes and mouth, “Now let’s get inside before we drown out here.”

Orena fished out a key from her silken pant pocket and handed it to Alex.

“Okay, in we go,” Alex said, leading Orena through her large foyer and into the even larger sitting area. Strangely enough there was a large TV sitting in front a long white couch, and that’s where Alex sat Orena before hurriedly looking around for a light switch. She couldn’t seem to find one and the thunder and rain and wind and darkness were all making her increasingly nervous.

A particularly loud crash of thunder ripped through the spacious home and Alex let out a small yelp as she jumped in her place by the wall.

“Somethin’ wrong, honey,” Orena called out to her from her spot on the couch.

“N-no, everything’s fine,” she stammered, running her hands all along the walls until she finally found a light switch. She cheered as she flicked it on, only to be disappointed when the room refused to brighten with the artificial light of the room’s ornate hanging light fixture. “Seriously,” Alex let out on a frustrated and anxious breath, “just when I think today couldn’t possibly get any worse.”

“What’s wrong?” Orena asked, her voice sounding slightly amused.

“The power’s out,” Alex replied miserably, moving to go sit by Orena on the surprisingly comfortable couch.

Orena laughed, “Well, that’s not much of a problem for me, but you seem pretty upset about it.”

Alex let out a small chuckle before letting out a deep breath in an attempt to relax, only to tense up again with another flash of lightning and boom of thunder.

“I’m just-,” Alex started after recovering from her small panic, “I’m afraid of the dark,” she said in a small voice while staring at the coffee table in front of her. It was ironic, considering her companion, but she couldn’t hide how uneasy the darkness made her feel.

Suddenly, a warm, withered, and slightly damp hand grasped her own and squeezed it tightly before Orena’s warm voice filled the room saying, “Me, too.”

Alex looked up from their clasped hands to Orena’s face. She was smiling lightly and looking straight ahead at the TV screen.

“What?” Alex replied, confusion marring her brow and coloring her voice.

Orena squeezed her hand again. “Darkness is a scary thing, honey, I know,” she said, shifting her body so she was facing Alex on the couch, “Sometimes, I get overwhelmed with nothing but darkness surrounding me. Sometimes, I get afraid.”

Alex squeezed her hand and asked, “How do you deal with it?”

“I’ve found that the best cure for a fear of the dark is another warm heart,” Orena replied, smiling again.

Alex squinted her eyes against the darkness, trying to decipher the meaning of Orena’s rhyming words. “Okay,” she said slowly.

Orena laughed, “Company, honey,” she remarked lightly, “I’m talking about being with other people, knowing that you’re not alone. It makes everything, especially the dark, much more bearable.”

“But what if I’m actually alone?” Alex questioned, “What do I do then?”

“You take a deep breath and you call on feelings of love,” Orena replied easily, “You remind yourself that you’re never really alone.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve pretty much been on my own since I learned how to read,” Alex remarked bitterly.

Orena sighed lightly and patted Alex’s thigh gently with her other hand, “I’m sorry, honey. I know it’s not easy dealing with everything on your own, and I know we just met, but you’re welcome here anytime. If you’re feeling alone, you can know that I’ll be here for you,” she said sincerely.

Alex smiled. “Thank you, really,” she said giving the warm hand she was grasping another squeeze. “You know, it’s funny, when I first offered to take you home, I was afraid that you were a part of some secret kidnapping group of fiends and you were gonna try and take me hostage or something,” Alex laughed lightly looking over to gauge Orena’s reaction to her confession.

What she saw made her blood run cold.

Instead of smiling and laughing like Alex thought she would, Orena’s face looked dark and closed off, like she was about to do something she was going to regret.

“Orena?” Alex called out to her quietly.

“I’m so sorry, Alex,” she replied, her previously warm voice turned to a remorseful whisper, “I didn’t want it to happen like this, but we need you too much to keep you out of it any longer.”

Alex began to panic. She pulled her now sweaty and shaking hand out of Orena’s grip and scooted away from her on the couch. She should have known it was suspicious that Orena, an old and blind lady, lived in this big house all by herself. She should have known it was weird for someone she just met to be so nice to her, to welcome her into their home without question.

‘God, I can’t breath,’ Alex thought through the blur of her panic attack. She should have never taken this lady home. She should have never come inside. She should have never stopped to talk to her.

“Wh-what do you want from me?” Alex demanded in a breathy voice. Her head was spinning, her body reeling from its lack of oxygen.

“You’ll see soon enough,” Orena said lowly, her eyes shining a bright purple behind her sunglasses. With a snap of Orena’s fingers, Alex found herself succumbing to an unwelcoming darkness.

Chapter One

"Wake up, Callie," a voice whispered ominously behind her.

Callie yelped in surprise and turned around quickly, almost knocking herself to the floor in her haste, "What the-?" She questioned as she looked at the empty space in front of her. 'Oh hell no,' Callie thought as she scanned the darkness for any signs of the person who could have whispered creepily behind her, only to find an empty street and abandoned sidewalks. Goosebumps lined her skin, prompting her to pull her jacket closer to her body.

"Hel-" Callie started tentatively before gaining some sense and shutting up. She had watched enough scary movies to know that calling out to a creepy, disembodied voice never ended well. She picked up the pace, practically sprinting to where she could see civilization up ahead.

"Callie, stop running and wake up," the voice demanded, louder this time and still sounding as if it were right behind her.

'Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,' Callie thought frantically as she ran even faster. Her lungs felt like they were about to collapse seeing as this was the first time Callie had ever done anything more strenuous than a brisk walk, but she pushed harder. She refused to be caught by this creepy voice. 'I don't know what would happen to a Hispanic girl in a horror movie situation like this one, but I really don't want to find out.'

"It's time, Callie," the voice urged, sounding almost as desperate as Callie felt, "It's time to wake up now."

The floating voice didn't sound angry or like it wanted to hurt her, but that didn't stop her from pumping her arms harder and running faster than she thought possible for a human sized potato. Any kind of voice whispering in the dark was one to be avoided in her humble opinion.

After what seemed like hours, Callie finally reached downtown and passed an elderly couple that scolded her as she raced past. She didn't stop running until she reached the hustle and bustle of the middle of town. Then, and only then, did Callie screech to a halt and hunch over, putting my hands on my knees in an attempt to catch my breath. The lights and people around her did little to settle my racing heart.

'What the hell was that? There is no way, absolutely no way it could have been an actual person messing with me. And I am definitely not going crazy...or maybe I am. How would I know?' Callie thought distractedly to herself as her eyes darted left and right, trying to find an invisible floating voice in the crowd.

"Please, Callie," the voice came again, this time from her right.

Seriously?

"Are you-," Callie whispered lowly as she looked around discretely, "are you a ghost?" Maybe it needed her to help it contact someone from the Otherside. This could be a textbook Ghost Whisperer situation! That definitely settled better in her mind than schizophrenia.

"No, Callie," the voice chuckled – it actually chuckled at her! "I'm here to help you," the voice sounded soft now, gentle even, "but we must hurry. We don't have much time."

"What?" Callie asked bewildered, looking down at the ground and talking out of the side of her mouth, hoping that looked normal enough for people to ignore, "I don't need your help with anything, disembodied voice, and I would really like you to leave me alone now."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Callie," the voice replied gravely, "We need you."

"We? Need me for what?" Callie questioned, her voice rising in her confusion, causing a few heads to turn in her direction. She grinned sheepishly and quickly looked away to dig through her bag. Callie pulled out her phone and held it up to her ear.

"Who is we?" Callie demanded, talking into the device and looking less crazy, "Actually, pause on that first question. Answer this one first because it's way more important: who the hell are you?"

The voice let out a sad sigh, "I can't tell you that, but that's not what's important right now."

"See, that's where you're wrong," Callie replied, "I think it's very important. I think if you don't tell me who you are right now, there is no way I'll help you with whatever you need help with," Callie warned in her most threatening voice.

"I really can't tell you, Callie," the voice said again.

"All right, well, I guess this conversation is over," Callie replied testily, "Good-bye forever." And just for appearances sake, and – if she was being honest – her own satisfaction, Callie pressed on the blank screen of her phone, effectively hanging up on the voice/non-ghost/invisible person.

"You know that's not how this works, Callie," the voice sounded after a few seconds of tense and hopeful waiting.

Callie let out a frustrated groan and grumbled under her breath, "I was hoping that was how this worked."

"I can't leave until you wake up," the voice replied insistently.

"Okay, I don't know if you've noticed, but I am awake," Callie said as she flailed her limbs around in front of the wall she was now talking to in order to further prove her very valid point.

"Callie?" Another voice called out to her, but this one, fortunately/unfortunately, was human. And familiar. Very familiar.

"Jacob!" Callie responded enthusiastically as she quickly turned on her heel to face him with a smile wide enough that Callie could barely see him through her squinty eyes. She was hoping her charm would be enough to distract him from the fact that she was basically yelling at a wall.

"Everything all right? You looked like you were talking to that wall," he asked her warily. Well there goes the charm idea.

"Yup! Yup, yup, yup," Callie replied with wide, unblinking eyes, "Everything is great. I was just...talking to myself," Callie finished in what she hoped was a convincing nonchalant voice.

Jacob opened his mouth, but no sound came out, so he closed it again. Callie let out a self-conscious laugh as her gaze flicked to his lips. He stared at her and Callie stared back, hoping he would go, but also hoping he would stay.

"Are you sure you're okay? Because you're talking extremely fast and being very weird," Jacob said after several more seconds of staring.

Callie let out a loud, boisterous laugh that was 1000% crazy, but could you blame her? Her nerves were almost fried because of the talking voice in her head telling her to wake up from god knows what and her unreasonably sized crush on Jacob basically destroyed her brain to mouth filter, making her sound like a complete idiot.

"I'm always like this," Callie replied with another nervous chuckle and a nonchalant hand wave.

He still looked like he was trying to figure out if Callie was on drugs or just being herself, but an unsure smile eventually made its way onto his adorable lips, "Okay..."

"Right, well," Callie cut in before he could continue, "I should really be heading home now," Callie said, raising a thumb and throwing it over her shoulder casually. "You don't know what kind of psychos come out at," Callie looked down at her phone to check the time only to see it was, "6:30 pm."

"Right," Jacob said with amusement lighting his immaculate features, "You don't want to run into any old people on their way back from their early bird specials. They can get vicious trying to get home before the news starts."

"See, you get it," Callie replied with a genuine laugh before backing away from Jacob and lifting her hand in a parting wave, "I'll see you later, then."

"Yeah, see ya," Jacob said with – what her hopelessly romantic brain hoped was – a fond shake of his head before turning his back on her and walking into the crowd of people once more.

"Callie," the voice sounded again, "wake up. Now."

Well, at least the voice had manners, waiting until after her tragic conversation with the star of all her fantasies.

"Why me?" Callie asked the sky, half hoping it would reply with all the answers Callie needed. "Am I actually going crazy? I have a voice talking to me in my head telling me I need to wake up from, what? Reality?"

"This isn't your reality," the voice responded emphatically.

"No," Callie replied quickly, shaking her head and walking away from the crowd, "No, I am not doing this. I'm not going to listen to you tell me how nothing is real or that I'm not real and my actual body is sleeping in a lab somewhere and this all just a dream."

The voice laughed, "Don't be ridiculous, Callie, of course this is real," the voice sobered, "but your life here is not. You must come home. You must save us."

Callie was almost home, but the voice was unrelenting. Callie didn't have time to deal with a talking voice. 'I have a calculus test tomorrow that I haven't started studying for.' she whined to herself.

"Look," Callie said as she continued walking, "I don't know if you're real or just something my stressed out brain conjured up, but I need you to go away now, okay? I don't have time to save anyone except myself from failing calculus."

"I didn't want to have to do this, but you've left me no choice," the voice replied solemnly.

"What?" Callie asked, panicking slightly. She was alone again, the streets and sidewalks void of any and all people, and silently cursed her stupidity. 

"What're you-" Callie cut herself off with a loud gasp as she doubled over in pain, her head narrowly missing a lamppost in her quick descent. It felt like a white-hot branding iron had been placed against her chest and temples, while molten lava traveled through her intestines. Her vision clouded over as she tried to hold in a scream. Then, suddenly, the world flashed white and Callie felt a tugging sensation in her stomach.

Callie heard a fading voice whisper, "Save us, Callie," before everything went black.

Chapter Two

There was a breeze wafting over her body and under her clothes. That was the first thing Callie noticed. The second thing she noticed was the dull pain coursing through her entire body, which lead to her unwilling release of a pain-filled groan.

The expression of her pain seemed to disturb whatever environment Callie was in as she heard the rustle of leaves and the scurrying of some kind of animal in underbrush.

'Animals? Underbrush? What the-' She opened her eyes to a lush forest all around her. 'I don't think we're in Freeding anymore, Toto,' she thought to herself as she tried to comprehend her current situation.

Did the creepy voice knock her out and drag her into the middle of some random forest? What the hell!

Callie struggled to get her aching body into something resembling a sitting position on the soft grass below her. Now that she wasn't lying on the floor, she could clearly observe her surroundings.

There were tall, sturdy looking trees surrounding her as she sat in what seemed like a small clearing. A thicket of bushes grew to the left of her and a few dandelions were sprouting in the grass. And sitting directly in front of her, with its nose twitching and ears sticking straight up, was an adorable little bunny. Callie couldn't help the "Aww" she let out in response to its cuteness. She had never seen a bunny in the wild before. Mostly because she'd never been in the wild before. And why was she in the wild now? Oh right....

"Hey," Callie practically shouted into the open expanse of forest before her, effectively startling the bunny and every other creature within a four-mile radius, "What the hell, disembodied voice? Are you just gonna leave me here?" Callie's whiny voice carried into the endless greenery of her surroundings. Her only response was the rustling of leaves.

Oh, how wonderful! Of all the times Callie wanted that stupid freaking voice to just disappear it chose now to listen?

"Answer me goddamnit!" Callie screamed furiously at the sky.

Nothing.

Callie let out a particularly nasty shout of frustration and threw her body back into its previously reposing position. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared heatedly at the sky.

As Callie lay there, angry and confused, she tried to come up with a plan of action. If this jerk of a voice didn't come to her aide and tell her how to get out of here, Callie would have to do it on her own.

'But how?' Callie thought despairingly after a few seconds of fruitless brainstorming and intense staring. She had no idea where she was and the only other life form she had seen since she'd gotten here was a skittish bunny!

'Speaking of bunnies, I think I hear it coming back,' Callie thought happily. She could use the company. 'They never can stay away long,' Callie thought smugly as she slowly began to sit up to receive her quickly approaching companion.

But when her smug face turned to greet the little fur ball, Callie was met with something a lot less furry and a lot more human.

The figure that had entered the clearing came to an abrupt halt and examined her with narrowed eyes. Before Callie had any time to react to the stranger, he had a gun pointed at her face.

"Holy shit," Callie yelped in surprise and fear as she frantically tried to scoot herself away from the scary man and his scary gun.

"Who are you," he demanded in a low, gruff voice - he was definitely not a friendly bunny.

"I-I'm," Callie stuttered, trying not to pass out from sheer terror as she raised her hands, "My name is Callie," she replied in a high-pitched and quivering voice.

"Who do you work for."

"Wh-what?" She replied, confused. Work for? Callie had recently gotten a job at Baskin Robbins, mostly for the free ice cream and less for the 'work experience,' but she highly doubted he wanted to know that, so Callie was at a loss.

"Who," he repeated tersely, "Do. You. Work. For."

Should Callie try with the Baskin Robbins thing or... "What does that have to do with you pointing a gun at my face?!?" Callie replied frantically.

Instead of answering, the man just raised his gun pointedly and adjusted his stance, seemingly getting ready to shoot Callie.

"Oh my god," Callie let out breathily, "Please, I don't know what you want from me, but I swear I'm harmless." Her heart was beating so fast she thought she was going to throw up from fear.

Callie didn't know what else she could do to convince this man that she wasn't the threat he thought she was, but then she remembered Oprah... and April Kepner.

Callie took a deep, steadying breath, "My name is Callie Baranda. I'm 18 years old. I'm from Greenclove, Freeding. My-my parents died in a car crash, so I-I live in a foster home. I'm a good student and a hard worker and I didn't do anything wrong. I swear," Callie said it all in such a rush she wasn't sure he even understood a word of what she said.

The man had lowered his gun slightly and relaxed his stance, which made her unclench about 400 muscles. Thank you, Grey's Anatomy.

Now he was looking at her curiously, still trying to determine whether Callie was a threat or not. She might as well let him know she was the human equivalent of a marshmallow.

"I'm only trying to get back home," Callie let out weakly. "I have a calculus test tomorrow," she finished with a pathetic shoulder shrug.

The man completely lowered his gun and Callie let out the biggest breath of her life.

"Okay," he replied, seemingly convinced she was harmless, bumbling simpleton.

"Oh, thank god," Callie said as she let her eyes slip close for a moment.

"Stand up," the man demanded again.

Callie's eyes popped open to look at the demanding man still standing before her as she sat cross-legged in the grass.

"What? Why?" Callie asked, defensive and wary of the gun being tucked into the waistband of the man's jeans.

"I need to search you," he replied gruffly never taking his eyes off her.

"Excuse me," Callie replied with raised eyebrows and narrowed eyes.

"For weapons," he continued, "I can't risk being shot in the back once I let you go."

Man, this guy was paranoid. 'Do I look like someone hiding a gun in my bra?' Callie thought, 'If anything, I should be the one paranoid about being shot in the back! He's the one with the gun!' But she figured it would be easier to let him search her than fight him on this. He was the one with the gun after all.

Callie sighed, "Fine," she agreed, huffily getting to her feet.

He inclined his head slightly, as if silently thanking her for her cooperation, but Callie doubted it. He was probably just flicking a bug off his face. Thanking her seemed like the last thing on this guy's mind. Then he approached her in four long strides and promptly started patting her down.

Callie's arms were lifted and she was trying very hard to fight off the blush creeping up her cheeks as he moved his warm hands all over her body.

Could you blame her though? This guy may be a jerk, but he was a hot jerk, like a really, really hot jerk.

She didn't have time to appreciate him before he whipped out his gun and she had to fear for her life, but once the gun was gone, so was her dignity and she began her perusal. He had dark hair that was combed back, out of his face so as not to distract him from all the gun pointing he probably did in a day. There were dark eyebrows atop of green, maybe brown, no hazel - well, whatever colored eyes he had, they were gorgeous. Then there was his jaw - it was chiseled - with a few days of scruff across it. He looked young, but exhausted, something that showed in the way his eyebrows were constantly drawn together and his lips were quirked down in the corners. This guy obviously had issues.

"Okay," he announced suddenly, and Callie realized his hands were off of her and he was standing in front of her with a grumpy look on his face, eyebrows scrunched together, "You're clean."

"Yeah, I could've told you that," she grumbled back, looking to the side and trying to hide the fact that she had been shamelessly checking him out. He didn't need any kind of ego boost; he did almost try to kill her.

Then she heard the shuffling of feet against grass and quickly snapped her eyes back to the space where the hot man had been only to see broad shoulders and dark fabric walking away. Callie knew she couldn't let him go. Sure, he'd just held a gun to her head and threatened to kill her, but he didn't - and she really wanted to go home.

"Wait," Callie called out hastily to his retreating back.

The man stopped in his tracks and turned slowly to face her with an almost imperceptible sigh and eye roll, but Callie saw it - Callie saw it and mentally rolled her eyes in retaliation.

"What," he said tersely.

"I-" Callie didn't know if she should be asking this specific douche- person this, but then she reminded herself that she had no other choice and firmly said, "I need your help."

The man's dark eyebrows lifted in surprise at her demanding tone, and it seemed that was all the reply Callie would be receiving from him.

"Well, this is how I see it," Callie started bluntly, "You almost killed me, so you owe me a favor."

"I already did you a favor," the man replied. It was obvious he'd rather not be having this conversation.

At Callie's look of confusion the man said, "I didn't kill you."

Callie resisted the urge to groan in frustration and punch him in his hot face. Instead, she gave a tight lipped smile and clasped her hands together, tightly.

"Okay, well," Callie said after recovering, "I count that more as human decency than a favor."

The man scoffed.

"Please," Callie tried again, softening her voice and letting her hands drop down to her sides helplessly, "I have no idea where I am, and I just want to go home."

The sigh he let out sounded like one of resignation. Callie's hope flickered dangerously in response.

"Where do you live?" he asked, annoyance coloring his deep voice.

Callie had to fight the urge to fist pump in victory. She decided it would be better to hurry up and tell him before he changed his mind, "Are we anywhere near Greenclove? I live on 164 and 75th."

All Callie got was a look that made her feel like an idiot.

"What?" Callie asked defensively. She wasn't an idiot.

"There's no Greenclove in Ellisium," the man replied slowly, as if he had read Callie's thoughts and was basically saying 'no, you are definitely an idiot.'

"I'm sorry," Callie replied after absorbing his words, "Elli-what-now?"

"Ellisium. The dimension we're in," he said, his voice rising at the end, questioning her sanity.

What.

"So we're not even in Freeding?" Callie questioned loudly because she was panicking and  this patronizing man was not helping.

"No, wherever that is, we're nowhere near it," he said with a tone of finality, sealing Callie's doom.