A rift in time and space

I woke in a haze, strange sounds around me muffled by the ringing in my ears. An unusual smell of stale bread and wet fur shifts around my aching body.

I drag myself into a sitting position, forcing my eyes open against the blazing sun. The bright white stings, bringing tears to the corner of my eyes. But the heat—well, there was none. The rays caress my skin like a damp cloth soothing a fever. Relief and exhilaration wash over me as my eyes flutter open.

The world before me is like a dream or a game centred on a faraway planet or realm. The tree trunks are burnt amber, with rounded leaves in shades of gold and silver. The grass I sit among is long and gold, and smells of sugary sweets.

The sky was a familiar blue, with fluffy white clouds drifting over the horizon.

My memory is blank, and I have no recollection of how I came here. A dream, perhaps? But no, the pain in my stiff joints is all too real to be anything imagined.

A wetness nudges my shin, and I look to find a creature the size of a small dog. It has no fur, which is unusual, as the scent I smelled earlier seems to come from this beast. Its skin is dusty pink, and it has wide yellow eyes. It sniffs around me, taking in the new scent that I bring with me.

“Come, Fiend.” A velvety rich voice calls from between the rustling trees. Shining black boots crunch the grass beneath them, and they stop a few feet away. “What do we have here?”

My eyes travel up his slender frame, dressed in a fine black suit with a white shirt that is unbuttoned midway down his torso. I linger on that exposed skin, which is a shade of the deep ocean, for longer than I mean to. His eyes flicker orange and yellow, and I can’t be sure if it’s a trick of the light or him.

The creature’s whine resonates through the woods as it bounds to its master. It sits patiently beside him as those fiery eyes survey me. The instinct to conceal myself rises, and I fight against it. It wouldn’t be fair, as I had done it to him moments ago.

“Where did you come from?” He steps closer, and a scent that I can only describe as pine and rosemary greets me as he crouches.

I’m unsure where I am or if I speak the same language. It’s shocking that now I realise that I have understood his words, and I wonder if it will work on me.

“Earth.” I sound the word out slowly, testing the limits of this world. “I woke here.” I believe honesty is the best policy, and perhaps that will help me get the assistance I need to return home.

“You’re a long way from home,” he smiles sweetly. It startles me that he knows where it is. “Come, let’s get you somewhere safe and fresh clothes.” His hand reaches out to me, but I hesitate before taking it. “My name is Rhys.” He bows his head, and his shoulder-length white hair falls around his face.

“Gwen,” I say my name quietly and let him guide me through the sweet-smelling woods.

I take more of him in. His high cheekbones, straight nose, the curve of his lips, and long, pointed ears.

“You can ask.” His lips curl as his head tilts toward me. His pet runs ahead, jumping between blades of grass and lilac petals.

What to ask? It's the biggest question; there are so many swimming in my mind. “What language are you speaking?”

A soft chuckle escapes him. “English, of course, don’t you recognise it?” A wave of embarrassment washes over me, and my cheeks heat. “I should be fair to you, given how I look, why would you assume we speak the same language?”

We reach the wall of brown stone and an arched gate that he swings open. “My grandmother is human.” He steps through and holds it open for me. We enter into a vast garden, with well-maintained lawns and a marble fountain in its centre. All around are flowers that I don’t recognise, but they smell like roses, sweets and something buttery. The colours are vibrant purples, yellows and greens. All beautiful in ways that take my breath away.

“Allow me to ask you something: how is it you’re remarkably calm?” He turns and walks backwards, his hands clasped behind his back.

The house, which is more akin to a manor, is large, featuring white brickwork and climbing plants. The windows are arched and appear to reach from the floor to the ceiling. We head toward a set of double glass doors that lead to a sitting room.

I ponder his question because now that I think about it, I have been calm. “I'm unsure, actually.” I scrunch my face up as I contemplate this further. Was it the world? Or perhaps some part of me is still believing it could be a dream? The ache in my limbs has eased now that I’ve been moving, so I can no longer convince myself otherwise using that pain.

He stops in front of the door, grinning like a child who has discovered something new and exciting. “That is rather adorable.” His hand gestures toward my face, and I cover it with my hands. This only makes him laugh, his body bent forward, arms crossed over his stomach. “There’s no need to be shy, we could be spending a lot of time together. Plus, it was a compliment after all.” He stands and opens the doors. Heat rushes us, shocking my system.

Inside is indeed a sitting room, two large sofas sit opposite each other, a long table with flames in its centre and glass protecting it, sits between them. Lanterns line the walls, hanging between pieces of art of landscapes, oceans, and people. I recognise one of them; his ocean-blue skin and fiery eyes stand out among others with various shades of blue and peach skin. He has an unnatural handsomeness to him, something human but not. In the middle of the group is an older woman, a human with grey hair and wrinkles. His grandmother, I assume.

“Ah, my family.” He steps beside me as I inspect the portrait further, not realising that I had gotten close to it. “My grandmother, of course.” He begins to point out each member, his long finger dancing over the piece. “Grandfather, he’s a rather jolly man. My parents, brother and sister.” He finishes and spins in front of me, blocking my view. “Admit it,” he leans close to me, and I shake my head in confusion. “I am the handsome one, aren’t I?”

I scoff in disbelief at how vain he is. “Perhaps only to you, I much prefer your brother.” I don’t understand this sense of ease around him or this world; I’d expect to be terrified and unable to speak. Yet, I can stand here and joke with a complete stranger in his home.

He feigns hurt, grabbing my hand and dragging me out of the room. I find that his touch is soft and gentle, not at all forceful. “Where are you taking me?” I ask, nearly tripping over my own feet.

“You said you prefer my brother, so I am taking you to him. He can deal with you.” He tries to sound annoyed, but it fails to hide the laughter. We run past servants dressed in black livery carrying trays of drinks and food, and they watch us with shock and curiosity.

Muffled voices sound from behind a large wooden door, laughter and the clinking of glasses seep through the gaps. I watch as the door opens, revealing a crowd gathered, drinking from wine glasses filled with a deep pink liquid and eating what look like mini quiches.

Before I can get a better look, the door slides shut, and I’m pulled up some marble staircases. I decide that either marble is easily accessible or this family is wealthy. Based on how Rhys acts, the clothing and other rooms, I’m leaning toward the latter.

Rhys swings open another door and twirls me under his lifted arm through it. When the room stops spinning, I find myself facing a wide four-poster bed with far too many pillows covering it.

My hands slam into Rhys’ exposed chest, hard enough that it sends him backwards.”What is the meaning of this?” I demand, shock and fear running through my body. It screams at me to flee, but where would I go?

His hands go up in surrender, a look of amusement on his face. “Please, why would I want to bed you when you fail to see my beauty?” He steps towards me, grinning. “You do not deserve to gaze upon me.”

My eyes go wide in disbelief. It is a common thing around him. “Then what is this?” I gesture around the room, which I could fit my entire apartment into, with its high ceiling and windows that let in a little too much light for my liking.

“Your room, for the time being.” He spins on his heels and heads to the door. “There are clothes in the wardrobe. But before you change, I shall ask the maids to run you a bath and bring you food.”

“You're leaving me?” I’m surprised by my own words; he’s a stranger to me, but also the only person I know in this strange land.

He bows from his waist, his arms around his front and back. “Sady, my lady, I am meant to be at a party. I may have escaped to walk Fiend, but my presence will be noticed by now.” He steps through the door, taking his pine and rosemary scent with him. “Do not fear, I shall return soon.”

The door closes, and I let gravity take me to the bed. The mattress is what I imagine lying on a cloud would feel like, and I get lost in its depth. The softness is welcoming, the sun cooling my heated skin, and the gentle clicking of some animal outside sends my eyes fluttering closed.

When I’m woken up by a young girl in the black livery I saw downstairs, I half expected her to vanish, and my old, boring life shocks me back to reality. But she doesn’t, she stands there watching me. “Hello?” I speak first out of nervousness, unsure if she could understand me.

“Ah, I was asked to come tend to you, my lady.” She bows like I’m someone important. I understand it with Rhys; he’s mocking me, being playful. But I am not a lady, and there is no need to bow. “I have run a bath for you, please follow.”

I’m submerged up to my neck in a deep tub that allows me to sit upright. The maid bathes me, which is an odd sensation. I try to stop her, but she won’t take no for an answer. It doesn’t end there; she dries, combs and styles my hair, dresses me, and stands at the side of the door as I sit in a comfortable armchair by the window. She has offered me no answers, which means I am still stuck here.

I’m about to climb into bed when Rhys stumbles through my door and proceeds to open the ones to the balcony before yanking me behind him. The night air is surprisingly warm and silent. The stars shine brightly with no clouds to hide them.

Rhys pulls me in front of him, facing out over the gardens. He points to the sky, his head leaning near mine. “You wish to know where Earth is? Follow my finger.” I do, and I see nothing but stars. “It is millions of miles that way, and judging from your previous attire, I’d say many years in the future.” I gasp and turn to face him. The bitter smell of alcohol lingers on his breath. “How? You want to ask. We call them rifts. They open randomly, dragging unsuspecting victims through them. They work both ways, and the trick to returning is to wait for another.” His eyes display a sadness behind them, one that I feel.

“I wish I could promise to send you back, but they are hard to track. It is rare for people to return, but it is not unheard of.” His fingers brush a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “What I can offer is a place here and access to my library, researchers and money to purchase books and clothes more to your liking. And if a rift does open, I will do my utmost to get to it before it closes.”

This is really happening, I’m on another planet, somewhere in deep space, in a different era. I laugh at the irony that one of my favourite shows was Doctor Who, but there is no Doctor to rescue me. There’s only Rhys.

I accept his offer and am welcomed into his household. His sister and I became fast friends, gossiping about her idiot brothers while we were out in the market or dining under the cool sun. His elder brother lived elsewhere with his wife and son, but they came often. His parents travelled for months at a time for business, and their family sold jewellery, some of which was custom-made. The grandparents watched over the house. His grandmother and I would spend hours discussing Earth, both of us from different times. We compared the differences and shared tales of celebrities and fashion. Adjusting to life without technology was hard but bearable thanks to the company and research.

Rhys is arrogant and vain, even after five years, consistently asking me to admit how handsome he is. As often as he annoys me, he helps. We’ve researched together, travelled to speak to a specialist, a term I use loosely for them. We’ve chased rifts, but they’re always too far. He says we won’t give up if that is what I want. His family has asked that I stay and give up looking for a way back. But Rhys, much to my surprise, has not.

For a while, I thought there was something between us. We worked well together, we had banter and a spark. Some nights after being locked in the library or a party, we’d go to my balcony and look out among the stars, hoping to catch a glimpse of another planet. We’d sit side by side, holding hands, or arms wrapped around each other. Several times, we’d almost shared a kiss, but he would always pull away and make some joke about how his looks were drawing me in. He claimed it happened with all the ladies and gentlemen, though I had yet to see it. His sister told me he had many lovers before I arrived, that it meant something that he hadn’t taken one since. I wished it were true. He has been the best part of my life here; always there when I needed someone, when I got lost in despair, and when I missed my family. I did everything I could to be there for him when he needed to lean on someone.

Today, he burst into my room and announced a rift was opening in the neighbouring woods; if we moved fast, we could make it. I grabbed my prepared pack, loaded with my favourite things from my life here, including dried brown flowers that Rhys had given me for my birthday, my second year here, and followed him to the awaiting carriage.

We stand on the edge of the wavering rift, the darkness sending a shudder down my spine. Not once in my time here had I been afraid or panicked by my situation. But now I am. My body trembles as anxiety bites at each of my nerves. I don’t want to go.

He needs to give me a reason to stay. I wish his family were enough, but the thought of watching him fall in love, marry and have children breaks my heart. I want to be his. Fear of rejection sank its claws in years ago, and I have yet to loosen them. It is why I have never confessed.

“This is it.” His rich voice is solemn, his eyes watery. “I fulfilled a promise I never thought I would.”

“Tell me to stay,” I blurt out. “Tell me you want me, that you love…”

His mouth is on mine before I can finish. Our kiss is everything I’ve dreamed of. Soft and gentle, that eases into a fiery passion. Our tongues clash, hands buried in hair, breathless but not wanting it to end. It does, because we need to breathe.

“I have loved you for years, Gwen. I always thought this was what you wanted. I never dared to let myself hope it was otherwise. We were both foolish.” He chuckles, his fingers stroking my cheek. His pine and rosemary scent wraps around me in a perfect embrace as his fiery eyes stare longingly into mine.

“I love you, Rhys.” The rift crackles behind me, and the void pulls at my clothes, hair and then my body. I stood close, knowing how it drags its victims into its gaping maw. Rhys struggles to hold on, my arm screaming in pain as the shoulder dislodges. “Rhys!” I shout as my hand slips from his, and I fall into a pit of darkness.

I woke up in the middle of a road, cars honking at me to move, and Rhys' final words echoing in my mind: “I will find you.”