Wandering
From the moment I entered The Ainsley Brack Orphanage for Underprivileged Girls I stuck out like a sore thumb. The other girls were strong, fearless and rough. I was a weak little stripling who was crippled by the recent loss of her parents. I would sit in the tiny library in the east wing looking at book after book, not really reading, just seeking comfort in the blurred black lines of text. It was here that I came across the book which captured my mind.
It was small, crumpled and dirty; really only a few pages of badly torn paper. The mistresses were very strict about witchcraft and magicians and 'those sorts'. Someone had clearly hidden this book behind a large encyclopaedia to protect it from their prying eyes. Within its pages were descriptions of the wondrous peace which could be attained by 'wandering' or travelling in the mind. I began to think about how much I wanted to forget what I knew to be true, to find peace and forget suffering. That night I followed the instructions in the book, laying still and humming gently until the sound filled my mind and a feeling of weightlessness stole over me, before drifting into a sea of darkness.
I wokefeeling as though my head were being pulled towards air through tar. Rising, I saw that the girls who shared my dormitory were gone and there was a silver glow emanating from behind me. Turning, I saw my body lying on my bed, a silver thread running from between its eyes and, looking down, into my heart. When I twisted my hand about the thread it stretched and excruciating agony split through my chest. The body on the bed remained perfectly still and I felt a moment of calm before panic set in. The silver thread began to vibrate rapidly as my heart beat faster and I stumbled backwards, crashing into the wreckage of an automobile. I thought it strange that an automobile would be in the orphanage dormitory, but stranger still that my body passed through the metal as though it weren't there.
Black smoke and flames spiralled up from the shell of the vehicle but the room was perfectly clear. There was a brass plaque attached to the twisted door stating 'Frederick and Mary Rayne, Died 19th November, 1923'. As I moved forward I caught sight of two shapes slumped together in the centre of the inferno... my parents! The sight of their blackened, twisted bodies filled my vision; white bone gleamed amidst patches of raw skin and their curled fingers, like claws, danced in front of my eyes. Suddenly, my Mother's eyes opened and she turned her charred head towards me. "Cassidy" she rasped, "Give Mummy a hug". There came a sickening sizzling sound as she placed a hand on the white hot metal to get to her feet. I choked on bile and ran towards the door of the dormitory. Wrenching at it I realised it was locked and as I kicked desperately at the wood a thick red liquid splashed from the lock onto my pinafore. "My heart's blood" whispered my Mother from behind me, "you wouldn't give your Mummy a hug, would you? Was the pain worth it?" I remembered my parents leaving for a business meeting in Washington. I wanted to go with them and refused to say goodbye as they left me behind. I recalled receiving that terrible news...
The door swung wide and I bounded through, slamming it behind me. There was a crunching noise and, looking down, I saw my mother's talons caught between the door and the frame. Turning, I faced the wide corridor beyond. This was unlike the orphanage I knew. It was dark, the shadows merely midnight on pitch. Instinct pulled me down the corridor and I passed doorways on either side, ignoring the whispers issuing from within which echoed my own insecurities. I came to stand before an enormous gilt mirror, watching as the reflection waivered to form a girl with cherry red curls and pale skin, dressed in black and standing in the middle of a wintery graveyard. I stared in the mirror, unable to believe what I was seeing. As I watched she turned her face, my face, toward me. "Hello Cassidy Rayne" she hissed, forked tongue flicking out as her red eyes bored into my soul, "do you see your desire?" She stood aside and I saw two people observing a grave marked 'Cassidy Rayne, died 19th November, 1923'. As I watched, my parents turned away to walk into enveloping darkness. "NO!" I screamed, "Come back!" I beat my fists against the glass and felt it begin to crack beneath my fingertips. There was silence as it gave way, no crack, no tinkle, merely a soundless cry as I fell into sunlight, reality hitting me like a slap in the face. I lay for a long time, with tears streaming down my face, before rising and looking about me. My body was being carried towards the infirmary by three mistresses and I watched as they fought to revive me, feeling the most subtle of pulls on my spirit each time my chest rose and fell. Then I turned and walked away.