Unseen

The streetlamp flickered a little, and the teenage girl drew her scarf more tightly around her neck. The boy walking next to her glanced at her with friendly concern, but she was staring straight ahead at the ominous shapes of the trees that reached out their branches from the woodland that surrounded the village. Outside of the sphere of the streetlamps, all was dark, but as they came up to the top of the hill, they could see little clusters of lights here and there in the valley below. The street diverged: the paved road led on to the top of the hill, where a few more lights indicated the presence of a group of houses. A dirt path led off into the woods on the left.

“This is where I say goodnight,” the boy said. “See you tomorrow.” He watched her walk up the road, made sure she reached the light of the houses, and then turned to follow the path, which wound its way past trees and boulders into the darkness. It ended abruptly at the edge of a cliff, with a sheer drop. He took a deep breath and stepped over the edge.

He was falling, falling into the dark emptiness. There was a faint glow of red below, which slowly grew larger and brighter. He could make out the forest of tentacled trees and the piles of giant boulders dispersed around, and the sea of sand and ash beyond. It was all wavy, as if below water, but slowly coming into better focus. He was falling softly, almost floating down, and landed on his feet in a patch of ashen-grey moss, hand-high, which was creeping through the undergrowth. Its fluffy tentacles rose from the mat of grey and felt his face, arms and body, and then retreated back, as the whole mass slowly inched forwards in the shadows. He looked at his hands: the smooth, alabaster skin was now cracked and pale grey, although tinted red by the crimson sky above. The trees around him were bunches of tentacles, continuously breaking up into clouds of ash and reforming in a strange, swaying dance.

He walked along the living moss carpet to where a cluster of warped cottages stood at the edge of the forest, beside the sand sea. He opened the door of the closest one and stepped inside. Ash and dust were floating around like usual. He opened the fridge, took out a black bottle, closed the fridge and sat down at the crooked table. He opened the bottle and let the black, oily liquid flow into his mouth. It was not unpleasant. A warm sensation spread through his body, and he sighed contentedly.

There was a sharp knock on the door, and before he could say “Come in!”, the door opened and a tall, lanky boy with light ashen hair and cracked, iron grey skin stepped in. The boy at the table pointed at the fridge, and the tall boy grabbed a similar bottle from it, before sitting opposite him at the table.

“Hi Charles,” the tall boy said, and took a draught from the bottle. “This is disgusting.”

“Nice to see you too, George.” The tall boy studied him for a moment, before taking another gulp from the bottle.

“You were there again, weren’t you?”

“Where?” asked Charles, feigning innocence.

“In the Other Place. Stalking that girl.”

“I’m not stalking her. I just walked with her a little way.”

“You’re not walking with her. She doesn’t see you or know you’re there. The only thing she notices is the streetlights flickering, and that’s creepy. You’re creepy.”

“I don’t touch her, I don’t go into her house – not even close. I just walk a little bit of the dark street alongside her.”

“And you talk to her like she can hear you, but she can’t. This is not good for you, or her. You need to start living in reality. Here, where you belong.”

“Here? In this world of ash and dust, the Land of Shifting Sands?”

“I know, it’s no paradise, but it’s not that bad. There are lovely girls here too, you know. Girls you can actually have a conversation with. You can have a real life here.”

“I want a real life there.” George sighed and took another gulp. Charles did the same. George leaned closer.

“Listen, C. You’re my best friend here. I hate to see you wasting your life on something that isn’t real.”

“Okay, G. Tell you what, I’ll make you a deal. Tomorrow is Ash Day, which means that the veil between our worlds is at its thinnest. It should be possible for me to make contact with her. If I fail, or she rejects me, I’ll stay here and never go back to that world. Deal?”

“Would you really do that?”

“I promise. May Dachauru’s beard grow on my chin if I break my promise.” Charles held out his hand, middle finger and pinkie bent.

“Fair enough.” George reached over, placed his bent middle finger and pinkie against Charles’ index and ring fingers, so they formed a sort of interlocked hinge. A spark of red shot in a zig-zag pattern across their fingers, from top to bottom.

***

The sky never ceased to be red, but the rise of the Silver Disc told the occupants of the Land that it was time for rest. They did not sleep the way the inhabitants of Earth did, but rather drifted into a state of Dispersion. Charles stood outside his small home and watched as the others gathered nearby. The Silver Disc had risen about five degrees on its arc. He saw the others start to break up into ashes, like the trees of the Wavy Forest, and blow away to the Sea of Sand. He looked at his hands, and saw the cracks widening, his hands slowly breaking into large pieces which then broke into little pieces of ash. He felt his mind dispersing, stretching far and wide across the sand sea, where his ashes were flying. He saw the Sea Dwellers, the great tentacled monsters of the sand, digging their way up and back down again, oblivious to the beings floating above. He looked at the horizon: somewhere there was the land of Dachauru, the Lord of the Darkened Flame, to whose timeless lands those weary souls who no longer could reform and return home would be carried by the Great Winds that blew over the eternal Sea of Sand.

***

“Charles!” the sharp voice shook him back into place, and he saw the large figure of Henry staring at him. “Are you going to drift all day, too? We have work to do! Come on!” He saw Henry moving off towards the Wavy Forest, and quickly followed. “Today we’re going to prune the Tentacle Trees on the southern side, so they can grow better and produce more Oil. It’s an important job, but a dangerous one. Here, take this,” he added, throwing Charles a long blade attached to an equally long wooden handle. It hit him in the stomach, and nearly made him disperse. “It’s perfect for pruning, and for warding off angry tentacles.”

***

They pruned trees all day. Twice Charles failed to spot an angry tentacle in time, and its sharp teeth left him with more cracks in his skin. By the time they were done, there was not much left of Ash Day. Charles looked nervously towards the centre of the forest.

“Is that it, Henry?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Almost,” panted Henry, avoiding a tentacle and depositing the large bundle of steel twigs in Charles’ arms. “Take these to the sand sea and toss them in, will you? The Sea Dwellers will feed on them.” He left without another word, and Charles was too late to protest. He hurried out of the forest to the sea and waded in knee-deep. Then he tossed the bundle as far as he could, and watched it start to sink beneath the surface. He turned and hurried back towards the forest. The trees were still angry, and he had to avoid several blows on his way towards the forest centre, where the steep slope led up to the hill in the Other Place. Since it was Ash Day, he was not sure whether to expect something unusual on the other side. He wanted to arrive in plenty of time.

“Excuse me, young man,” a croaky voice said from the darkness, and he jumped. Out of the shadows came a very cracked, almost dispersed old man, with a long, flowing beard that looked like it was made of ashen moss. “Can you help me?”

“How, sir?” he asked, trying not to show his impatience.

“I need to get to the Sea of Sand,” the old man continued. “It is my last night in the Land, I am sure of it, and I want to make my Dispersion as easy as possible, so my ashes are not caught by the Waving Trees and I become part of them.”

“Can that really happen?”

“Of course. How else do you think the Wavy Trees are formed? They are the ashes of those who failed to be carried across to the timeless lands, now drawing others into their misery in their bitterness. I would rather not share their fate.”

“Well, it’s not difficult. Just go that way” – he pointed in the direction he had come from – “until you come out from the forest, and then you’ll see the Sea.”

“Thank you, thank you, kind sir. I wonder – no, it is perhaps too much to ask…”

“What is, sir?”

“I am frail, and walking is difficult. Would you take me there? I fear I will not make it in time.” Charles looked up at the slope, then at the old man, then at the sky. The Silver Disc could rise any moment now. He had no time to lose. But he could not leave the old man in such trouble. He had time; he knew it. There had to be a reason why he had found his way to the Other Place and found Her. Surely, they were destined to be together?

“Of course, sir.” He wrapped his arm under the old man’s arms, careful not to squeeze too hard, and the old man wrapped his left arm weakly around Charles’ shoulders. They made slow progress, but at least the trees seemed to have calmed down. It seemed to take forever, but finally they came out of the shadows, and looked upon the red sky and sand. The old man sighed contentedly, and Charles helped him down onto the ground just out of the reach of the sand.

“You have done me a great service,” the old man said weakly. “I will not forget it.”

“Goodbye, sir, and a safe journey,” Charles said, then rose and hurried into the forest. He ran as fast as he could, and soon found himself looking at the steep slope. He took a deep breath and dashed up the winding path as fast as he could, ignoring the pain in his legs and lungs. His lungs were on fire, but he could not stop. Panting, half-crawling he pulled himself up to the top. The path levelled off, and in front opened the Spot of Darkness. He took a deep breath and plunged forward. The darkness closed in all around, and he ran forward, waiting for the lights on the other side. He kept expecting to hit some kind of barrier, but eventually he saw the lights. There were more lights than ever; there seemed to be a big party. He breathed a sigh of relief. He had made it. He spotted her, moving on her own, past the party lights, up the lonely street, towards him. His heart was beating faster, and he brushed his hair with one hand. He had not really prepared for this moment. He had no idea what he was going to say. She was close. He stepped out into the light. She looked up.

“Hi,” he said awkwardly. “I know you don’t know me, but I just wanted to introduce myself. I live around here, too…” He felt the words sticking in his mouth. She was looking directly into his eyes. She was so close now; he could almost touch her. Her face was almost in his. She walked straight up and – right through him. The shock froze him for a moment, then he spun around. She was walking up the street.

“Oh no,” he said, panic rising. “No! No! NO!” He ran up to her, tried to get her attention, but he was clearly just air to her. He fell to his knees on the side of the street, head in his hands, feeling like he might crumble to dust at any moment, and wishing he would.

“Oh dear,” an oddly familiar voice said behind him. There was a gentle chuckle. He turned around. It was the old man.

“What are you doing here?” Charles whispered, not bothering to hide his anguish or tears.

“I felt the anguish of a poor soul,” the man said, with a bit of a smile. Anger rose in Charles, and he stood up.

“You caused this! You wasted my time! Why?”

“There, there. I can fix it.”

“No, you can’t! Ash Day is gone!”

“Ah, yes. But what if I told you I can make you visible to her? You can be a part of this world – seen, heard, felt…and you can see, hear and feel everything too.”

“How could you do that?” The old man chuckled. A red smoke began to rise around him. In the midst of the smoke, he stood taller, cloaked in black, with a great beard of smouldering ash. His eyes flashed red like the skies of home.

“Dachauru?” Charles gasped and crouched down.

“Indeed,” said the figure, and now his voice was stronger and more mischievous, even menacing. He grasped something from inside his cloak and held it out to Charles. It looked like a small bottle of bubbling green liquid that was forever turning to gas and back again. “This can transfer you from the Land of Shifting Sands to this realm. But be warned: you might not find it so easy to return.”

Charles looked at the bottle, and then at the girl who was disappearing up the street. He thought of the Wavy Forest, the Sea of Sand, Henry and finally George. Then he looked again at the girl, and the sea of lights below. He stepped forward and took the bottle. With a deep breath, he uncorked the bottle and downed the contents. He felt the cold rushing down his throat, into his stomach, and slowly spreading all over his body. He looked at his hands: they were still the same alabaster they always had been on this side. He looked questioningly at the dark figure.

“You will look as you always look here; perfectly normal,” the other replied. “But now you are seen and heard. Go, catch her before she disappears,” he said, nodding up the street. Charles looked at her, then back at him.

“Thank you,” he said, moving off.

“My pleasure,” the other replied quietly, chuckling to himself. When Charles next turned around, he was gone. He hurried up the street. She was close to the diversion. He broke into a sprint, resuming his walk only a few metres behind her.

“Hi!” he said, trying to sound casual. She jumped and turned around. “Sorry,” he said, holding up his hands. “I didn’t want to scare you.”

“Who are you?” she asked, caution in her voice.

“My name’s Charles. I live close by.” She looked at him and smiled a little.

“Nice Halloween costume.” He blinked. She was looking at his chin, and he looked down. A beard of smouldering ashen moss was stuck to his chin. He looked back at her smiling face and thought that maybe this would be worth the consequences.

“Thanks,” he replied. “Mind if I walk with you?”

“Okay,” she said, still on her guard. They walked a little apart. “Have you noticed the lights flickering here at night?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “But not tonight.” He spotted the dirt path leading to the left. She seemed oblivious to it.

“So, how far up do you live?” she asked.

“Just beyond that cluster of houses.”

“Funny, I didn’t think there were any houses beyond ours.”

“It’s a remote place. I’m a bit of a loner.”

“Well, this is where I turn,” she said, as they came to the last lights. “Good night.”

“Good night,” he said, watched her go, and then headed further along the street, towards the forest. He would find a place somewhere. This body probably needed sleep now. He left the street and entered the forest. He found a moss-covered patch in the middle of the forest, quite dry, and lay down. As he closed his eyes, he thought he heard a fell chuckle in the air.