"Confront the dark parts of yourself, and work to banish
them with illumination and forgiveness. Your willingness
to wrestle with your demons will cause your angels to sing.
~August Wilson.
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"What is wrong with this thing?" Emma stared at her phone and then up at the surrounding buildings. Lights were flicking on in the surrounding dormitories, yellow rectangles stretching up against the twilight sky. Walking down the sidewalk a little further, she tried again, holding the smaller glowing rectangle up to see if the connection would increase. No such luck. "Dammit."
The trees rustled overhead in a light breeze and she folded her arms around herself, considering going back into the dorm lobby. Not that she belonged there. As a visiting speaker, she wasn't exactly a student on campus and she had no idea how to get back to her hotel - if they hadn't canceled her reservations after the disaster that had been the day.
A car sputtered past, full of laughing students, and she sighed. Not so long ago, she'd been a student herself, concerned only with tests, projects, and spending whatever free time remained out with her friends. That had been before graduate school in upstate New York, three years of non-stop lectures, research, and writing, then graduation, publication, and a sudden rise to popularity among a certain group of literary critics. All of which she'd trashed today when a very important individual with a pair of wandering hands had ended up with coffee down his front.
"Should have just walked away, Faulkner," she told herself, pacing in a circle while she tried to think of what to do. Another car drove past, this one with a couple of girls in it, Emma ignored it until the driver shifted to reverse and slowly backed up to stop next to her.
The passenger window rolled down and a young woman with short bobbed hair in a vibrant shade of red and several studs in her eyebrow leaned out, "You all right?"
"I'm ... no, actually. I'm not," Emma admitted, flushing a little. "I've had a shit day and now I can't get back to my hotel because this," she held up the phone with a disgusted expression, "won't connect."
"Where are you staying? We can drive you back if it's not too far," the driver leaned forward with a smile.
"Are you ... certain? I mean, I'd love a ride, but I hate to put you out," Emma smiled, feeling her spirits beginning to lift.
"Hell, we're just on a booze run, so if you're not going far, it's not a problem," the passenger laughed, reaching back to unlock the back door. "Get in. Even if it's far, if you've got five bucks for gas, we're good."
"I'll fill up your tank if you know where to drop me," Emma answered, grateful beyond measure. She opened the door and slid into the backseat, realizing with a start just how tired she'd been as she settled into the creaking back seat of an ancient volvo. There were backpacks and the detritus of college life everywhere, and it felt like home.
"So, are you just visiting someone? Or are you an incoming student?" The driver asked, looking back at Emma through the rearview mirror. She had dark hair, cropped short, and a sharp expression in her eyes that seemed to compel Emma to answer honestly, though she was trying hard to forget.
"I was here as a guest speaker at a symposium for your English department. Sadly, I got myself kicked out midway for telling one of the organizers exactly what I thought about him." She swallowed the bile that wanted to rise and shook her head. "It didn't go well."
"Oh no," the redhead turned around in her seat, looking back with sympathy. "Did he insult your or something?"
"I think he mistook my professionalism for availability and tried to feel me up in the elevator. So, yes, I suppose he did. I poured my coffee down his chest," Emma explained, feeling her face flushing. She'd had every right to be offended, but it was still humiliating. "Anyway, I should have one night still at the hotel before they can cancel the rest. I'd like to get somewhere that my phone works so I can call the University where I work. They've got lawyers, I think. Right? I hope so."
"God, that's awful," the passenger thrust a hand back at her. "I'm Lily and this is Andy. You are welcome to come drink with us tonight, if you want. We're just going to a friend's house on the edge of campus for a party later."
"I might do that, now you ask," she answered, taking Lily's proffered hand and shaking it firmly. "I'm Emma. Thank you so much for the ride. The hotel's the big one? The Marriott by the highway, I mean."
"Oh! That's right next to the store! Well done," Lily laughed, settling back into her seat. "So, tell me what you do, Emma."
The hotel had a shuttle service to the airport in the mornings every hour till noon, so Emma arranged to utilize that, and changed out of her business clothes and into a pair of tight fitting jeans, a t-shirt under a short leather jacket, and a her 'comfort boots' - flat, suede boots that stretched up over her knees and had soles that could go for miles. When she got back down to the lobby to wait for Lily and Andy, they'd were just pulling up, half the backseat stacked with beer and other alcoholic beverages.
"I thought you said this was going to be a little shindig?" Emma asked, wedging herself inside the back seat.
"Well, they always start small," Lily laughed. "But then Marian's crew shows up and everything goes crazy."
Andy sighed and turned on her turn signal. "You have no idea how insane it gets once those people show up. I spend half the party chasing them down."
"What? You don't join in the fun, too?" Emma asked, laughing.
"I try, but it's my Dad's house," Andy answered, smiling a little. "Not that I don't have fun. It's just, once Rick shows up, the entire party goes wild."
"Don't let him get you into a corner," Lily advised. "He'll talk your ear off."
She helped unload the car, happy to be doing anything else but thinking about the earlier part of the day. Andy, who was a graduate student studying criminal justice and whose original degree had been, surprisingly, literature, lived in her father's big old bungalow on the side of campus. Half the rooms were rented out to other students, many of whom were helping to carry the booze inside once Lily honked the horn. Emma followed Andy up the stairs and past a swinging hammock where a lanky bald man was swinging, sound asleep with an arm over his eyes. They went through a hallway and turned left into a dining room that led into a spacious kitchen kept spotlessly clean.
"Josie?" Andy called as they filed in and began stacking beer onto the kitchen table. "Josie? We're back and we've got a new friend!"
"Oh?" A black-haired woman with lively dark eyes and warm hued brown skin trotted into the room, tucking a yellow t-shirt into the waistband of a long skirt. The moment she saw Emma she smiled. "A new person! I'm the resident extrovert, Josie Montero."
"I'm Emma Faulkner," she answered, taking the hand the other woman extended. "There are a lot of people here."
"There will be a lot more than this before the night's over," Lily said, carrying in the last of the booze and setting it with the rest. "Now, remember, if anyone is rude, tell me. I'm the house bouncer, so to speak."
"She means she'll get her shadowy associates to do it for her," Andy laughed as she poured ice into a large blow up kiddy pool, "C'mon, help me get this ready."
Crowded didn't quite do the scene justice as a descriptor. By nine p.m., the house was full to bursting with loud, raucous students, most of them graduate students or seniors trying to take the edge off. The music wasn't so loud you couldn't hear, but the low thunder of laughter, earnestly drunken debate, and Andy yelling for everyone to 'calm the fuck down already' was loud enough. Emma drifted among the various strangers, a red Solo cup full of hard cider in one hand. It was relaxing to simply be there among friendly people who didn't expect anything out of her.
The porch was quieter, she found, stepping outside into the chilly air with a smile. The hammock was empty now and she sank into with care, not wanting to tip over, and she sat there, swinging lightly and humming to herself. She'd had enough to drink to feel the buzz humming along her veins.
Headlights swung along the street while she watched and a vintage black mustang with a red design on the hood that she didn't recognize pulled up and parallel parked in front of the house. Doors slammed and a tall woman with a shock of black hair got out of the driver's side. She was followed by a lanky blonde man dressed in scrubs and a short man with an amazing mane of gold hair. A skinny, tattooed, white-haired fellow dressed all in the tightest jeans Emma had ever seen got out of the back and opened the door for a two other women, one tall and dark with a glory of black hair and a smaller girl who was a bit difficult to see in the dark. Finally, a tall woman with long tail of bright red hair exited the back seat, looking around with a resigned expression on her face.
"Oh joy," Andy said, coming out onto the porch. "I wondered if they were ever going to show up."
"Who is it?" Emma asked.
"That would be Marian and her friends. Watch out for the short one, that's Rick. He's in love with the sound of his own voice," Andy answered, walking to meet them. Emma sat her drink down on the porch and followed her, shoving her hair out of her eyes.
"Hey, Andy!" Rick called out as they approached. "Thought you were never speaking to me again?"
"I haven't spoken yet," Andy answered, her tone clipped. "Marian, you're late."
"Better late than never, right?" the tall woman smiled, her blue eyes catching the light from the porch in a way that had Emma staring. The charisma of that smile alone was enough to stop a person in their tracks. Emma swallowed and straightened her back.
"Whatever," Andy snorted, disgusted. She waved a hand to the side and Emma ducked to keep from being swatted. "This is Emma. We rescued her from the evils of the Literature department. Be nice to her or Lily will kick you out."
"Nice to meet you," Rick said, stepping forward and offering his hand. "I'm Rick Tesar. This is Marian, that's Andrew," he pointed to the tall man wearing the scrubs. Andrew nodded and waved - he looked like every other med student Emma had ever seen with rings around his eyes and a permanent expression of world-weariness on his face. "The little one is Melanie and that's Izzy. The broody one with the tattoos is Ferris, and the tall lady is Annie - she's a cop when she's not hanging with us."
"How do you do?" Ferris said in a deep voice that was surprising in a person so slim.
Emma gave them all a wave and smiled. "I am not going to remember everyone's names, but I'm really glad to meet you."
"Are you British?" Marian asked, turning her intense gaze on Emma in a way that was both delightful and disconcerting. Emma was beginning to wish she hadn't had quite so much cider already.
"Ah, no," she laughed. "My Dad is, though, and we've spent a lot of time in London off and on. I went to school there for a lot of years, and I can't shake it now. Mom's from here."
"Shall we all go find something to drink?" Ferris asked, pushing past them with a smile. "It's been an hour since I've had anything and I'm thirsty."
"Fine, fine," Marian answered, and the group turned toward the house, following him across the porch where Emma retrieved her cup of cider, and they all went inside to be greeted by a chorus of shouted hellos while half the party descended on the newcomers.
After that, the music was turned up, games of beer pong were played, Card Against Humanity drinking games were commenced, and ... by the wee hours of the morning, Emma was so drunk she couldn't find her feet. At some point, she found herself sitting on a couch next to a stranger who she kept referring to as Prince William, telling him about what an utter fool she'd been while they shared a bowl of cheese-its. Marian and Rick appeared out of nowhere and she'd been carried off to the porch for more cider and more stories which she would never remember, and she ended up telling the story of how she'd poured hot coffee down the front of the professor's shirt, sobbing helplessly over her cup the entire time.
"I tol'him t'get his 'ands off me, y'know," she explained as best she could. "But he inshisted an' I jus' poured the coffee all over'im."
"Well done," Marian said, patting her on the back. "You should have punched him, too."
"Nahhh," Emma shook her head, the world tilting ominously with every movement. "The coffee wash ... was hot." She stare down at her drink, swaying from side to side. "I ... I don't ... I don't feel sho ... good."
"I think she's about had it for the night," Rick commented. He seemed very far away. Emma felt herself tilting sideways, a gentle hand on her back as the world faded away.
The smell was what got to her first. Rancid, rotten, and choking, it filled her nose until she thought she would gag, sitting up abruptly on what felt like wet, broken concrete. Her head was throbbing relentlessly, and she wavered to her feet, blinking the mist out of her eyelashes. Her ears felt oddly sensitive, as though something were vibrating nearby. Green light clung to everything, liquid and hazy, the shadows filling all the spaces between. Broken bits of masonry were floating in the sky ... wait. What? Emma staggered to her feet, turning in a slow circle. Where was she? This didn't feel like a dream, but what else could it be?
Smoke drifted across the world around her, and she saw ahead of her stair leading up a steep hill. At the top stood a shining figure, silhouetted against the green and cloudy sky. Emma stepped toward it, moving across the space between until she came to the first step, blinking owlishly upward. The gleaming shape moved forward, stretching out a hand, as a loud squeal and the click of many feet sounded behind her.
Emma turned and then screeched, seeing spiders the size of Great Danes bounding after her, and she began to climb upward, hand over hand as the stairs grew steeper until they sheared clean away. Fear propelled her up the cracked and broken stone, her hand reaching up to grasp at that of the glowing woman above her. The hand closed on hers and she was pulled forward toward a gleaming, shifting rip in the air.
Without considering the consequences, conscious only of the danger behind her, Emma stepped through.
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NOTE: So, I started a new thing. .