"Real” by Molly Carroll
He doesn't remember when he first saw her. Frankly, she appeared just like any of his other characters. Talentless artist and average high school student Nicholas Barnard was staring into space one Wednesday free period and he just saw her. He was imagining walking around in a forest, but it was foggy with morning dew. He came to see the edge of the forest and walked toward the clearing of spindly trees, but he didn't make it before he heard --
“Nicholas?”
Bolt. Awake. Now. Brain. On. “What?”
Mr. Callahan, the history teacher, sighed. “I asked, what did Brown vs. Board of Education rule?”
Nicholas searched his brain for an answer, but his brain was still foggy and filled with quickly-fading trees. “Desegregation… something?” he spit out.
“Correct. Desegregation of public schools.” Mr. Callahan seemed to admire Nicholas’ ability to daydream and still know the answer. Nicholas supposed it just came naturally with a high IQ. Like sitting alone at lunch.
Nicholas hated when people yelled at him to stop staring into space/stop daydreaming/ pay attention/et cetera. He was just one of those people, one of those who liked to “check out” of the real world. No one around him seemed to understand that.
During free period, Nicholas worked on calculus, but there was the forest with the spindly trees. He imagined it again. It really was beautiful with the fog. He could do whatever he wanted here, like make a dinosaur come to the forest and tear it down. But he enjoyed its current peace.
He walked to the forest clearing and saw he was standing on a plateau. In the valley below was a ghost town. How interesting! he thought. Nicholas decided to climb down the small plateau and investigate this new creation.
As he was walking, a girl with long black hair and dragon wings zoomed above his head, not bothering to notice him. It’s Shadow Dragon! he thought to himself. One of the superheroes he had drawn in his notebooks at school. But… this wasn’t Los Angeles. Shadow Dragon lives in L. A. because that’s where he imagines her to live. Oh well. He guessed she had just crossed his mind for a moment.
Nicholas looked around the ghost town. There was a convenience store, and a restaurant, and some apartments. Every building was dilapidated in some form.
Nicholas heard footsteps — soft, slow footsteps. In their direction stood a teenage girl. She had light brown hair tied up in a bun, and she was wearing one of those late 1800s dresses. The dress was purple with little details and very pretty. So was she… but he had never seen her before. How could a new character take him by surprise? What was this pl—
“Nicholas! Come on, I need help with the dishes,” his mother nagged. Apparently supper was over. Nicholas had eaten but barely spoke. Usually he could keep on a conversation with his parents and sister, but not after that.
After supper Nicholas headed up to his room to read the new issues he pulled this week. Or at least, that’s what he told his family. He really had to go back to that place he had been imagining. It sounded strange, musing about his daydreams as if he was traveling to them. He almost felt like a scientist on the verge of a new discovery. He just had to experiment.
Nicholas lay on his bed and closed his eyes. Instantly he was back in the ghost town. The broken buildings seemed so vivid to him this time. The world in his head was creating itself around him. What? What am I thinking? I’m going crazy! he thought as he explored the streets. Running. He heard running behind the corner coffee shop. Nicholas’ heart began to beat faster and faster as his nerves went haywire. But he had to find out and he rounded the corner of the coffee shop and the running stopped. The girl faced him dead on.
They stared at each other for a few seconds. It seemed as though the girl was examining him much more closely than he was examining her. She had soft blue-gray eyes and her hair was still in a bun. She had the same purple dress on and dainty black laced boots.
“…Hello.”
What? Nicholas screamed to himself. His eyes widened in utter shock. She’s talking to me. She’s talking to me. A girl in my head is talking to me. “Hi.” He waved awkwardly.
The girl spoke up again. “Who are you, and why do you look so peculiar?” She pointed to his clothing and face. She had an accent of some sort. Like in movies.
“You’re asking… How did you… What…” Nicholas stuttered. He stared at the ground and held his head between his hands. He’d always known he was a little crazy, for enjoying reading or being introverted perhaps, but this took the cake. Next stop, insane asylum.
But he had to stay here, stay daydreaming. This was important — he was a scientist here, remember? Oh no. The girl was coming closer.
She put her hand on her heart, as if in introduction. “My name is Emily. You seem a bit frightened by all this, and I am too,” her large eyes stared into his. “But I am also curious. Am I making this up? Of course I am, of course I am!” She did seem frazzled in her speech.
Suddenly Nicholas felt protective of the frightened girl. “It’s okay. I’m thinking the exact same thing. Which means we are making this up. Or, I am.”
Emily shook her head. “I wouldn’t be so sure. Have you met the others?”
Nicholas stared at her in utter disbelief and said nothing. Emily walked past him and approached an old house near the coffee shop. It looked Victorian. Perhaps Emily felt at home there. Nicholas hit himself on the head for thinking about her as if she wasn’t a character, and followed her invitation inside.
Somebody was playing guitar in the darkly lit living room. “Hello there, Emily!” the player exclaimed. He stopped strumming and looked up at Emily and her new companion. He was a man in about his late thirties, thinning dark hair and thick glasses, with a huge smile on his face sitting in a rocking chair.
“I found one,” said Emily. She gestured to Nicholas. “Tell us your name?”
“Nicholas.” Nicholas was breathing quite heavily and nervously at this point. He was wringing his hands and they were beginning to get clammy.
“Hi, Nicholas! Welcome--
“—then we take the derivative of x to the fourth, which gets us…”
“Fucking DAMNIT!” Nicholas swore only partially under his breath. Some of his nearby Calculus classmates jumped, others stared. He started sweating. People were staring. He was in class. He had somehow tuned back in to life, despite the continuous daydream. Now how was he supposed to continue his meeting with Emily and the guitar guy?
You made them up, you dumbass. They’ll be in the same place you left off, just like every other story you’ve made up, Nicholas told himself. He started taking notes to attempt to calm himself down. Despite this setback, he had to get back.
After an anxiety-filled day of school, Nicholas could finally retreat to his bedroom. During that school day all he had done was doodle pictures of Emily so he would remember her.
He walked straight past the forest, into the town, into the house. He breathed a sigh of relief. Guitar guy was still there, but he didn’t notice Nicholas. He was talking to a small group of children sitting on the floor facing him.
“WHAT?” Nicholas yelled. “I mean… I’m sorry.” The children stared at him and the guitar guy smiled.
“You’re new here. Why don’t you join us? Perhaps you’ll come to find it’s not so scary,” he said in a rather patronizing tone.
Nicholas gingerly took a seat next to a little boy who was about five. He didn't notice Nicholas but was staring at the guitar guy intensely, like he was staring into space.
“Oh, and you can call me Rob,” said the guitar guy. He began to strum and sing:
Come on and play with us, everyone, here
It’s not a place you have to fear.
I found it one day and you have found too
That here you can do what you want to do.
You may find it gives you a reason to smile
But remember to go back once in a while.
Rob winked at Nicholas and continued to strum a rhythm. “Emily is upstairs if you’d like to see her.” Bewildered by the haunting song, Nicholas slowly got up and went to the staircase. He heard the children chime in to Rob’s strumming.
“Play another one, Rob!”
“We love you, Rob.”
“I don’t want to go back
Nicholas arrived up the stairs and saw an open door to a study. Inside, Emily sat at a desk, writing with a quill. She wore a red dress today. Nicholas knocked at the door.
“Come in!” said Emily cheerfully.
“What are you writing?” asked Nicholas.
“Oh, I love to write. I am just musing on some questions I have been pondering as of late.” She took the parchment she had been writing on and showed him proudly. In beautiful calligraphy were the questions:
What is the only world humans have other than the real one?
Where do we go when we die?
What if it’s the same?
“Emily…” Nicholas put his hand on her shoulder.
Emily looked at the floor. “I don’t want to go back. Ever, ever again.”
He was beginning to figure it out. This place was a place where you go when you’re not in the real world. The source. The source of all daydreams. The dream world. And just a few days ago Nicholas had become conscious of all the other dreamers. But now, the girl with a porcelain face wanted to destroy herself.
Nicholas sat down on a plush chair across from the desk. “Emily… do you want to die?”
“Let me tell you something, Nicholas. I was born into a high class family in New York, and in the real world, my only purpose is to marry a rich man. I want to be a writer. I make up stories, just like you do! We all do. That’s how we got here. I know you know now.”
Nicholas was at a loss for words. Here he was, and he lived in Ohio. Yet…
Suddenly Emily took his hands into hers. “The only place in the whole world I can write in peace is here. When I’m not daydreaming, I’m being primped and polished by my mother for the next outing. I hate it! I hate it so much.” Emily’s voice began to falter in sobs and she hung her head.
“Emily… Don’t do that… Don’t…” but her image and the room faded away as Nicholas leapt back into reality. He was in his bedroom and it was dark. He looked at his watch on the nightstand: 3am. He guessed he was night dreaming this time.
The following day Nicholas found himself in the counselor’s office. He wasn't sure why he was there, only that he hadn't talked to anyone much and he felt he needed to get something out.
“I… I think I have a friend who is considering committing suicide,” Nicholas told the counselor.
“I’m sorry, Nicholas. And who is that?” asked Dr. Carlson, a blonde, kind woman of about forty.
“Her name is Emily.”
“I see. Does she go to school here?”
“No.”
“Where does she live?”
Nicholas paused. He knew this would be a bad answer, but he was so downtrodden. “She lives in my head.” He put his head in his hands in defeat.
Dr. Carlson wrote a note on her notepad.
Nicholas sat in his bedroom with the door closed. He had only one thought in his mind, and to a normal person it wouldn’t make much sense: he wanted to go home. He had become addicted to the ghost town and the forest and the house and Emily and Rob and the guitar, and now he thought of that place as home. But they all did too, and this brooding wasn’t going to get him anywhere.
Nicholas opened the door to Fantasy Comics and the little bell rang. “Hey, Nicholas! It’s been a while!” said Carl, the manager. Nicholas waved and greeted him warmly. Here was a place he felt he belonged in the real world, thought Nicholas. Comic book nerds always had their heads in the clouds, right? This wasn’t serious, not at all. “Looking for anything in particular?” asked Carl.
“Not necessarily, beyond a little advice,” said Nicholas. He leaned his elbows on the shop counter.
“What’s up?”
“You stare into space and think about stuff a lot, right? You know, like having an imaginative nature.”
“Yeah, but I’m a bit more extroverted and in tune with the world than some of the people I know. Hence my being a comic store manager. You kind of have to be a people person to sell stuff,” replied Carl. “My brother is a prime example of who you’re talking about though. He’s a computer programmer but he works from home. Doesn't talk much, but when he does it’s actually pretty fascinating.”
“Do you think I could talk to him? There’s just been something nagging me about being a dreamer, so to speak.”
Carl frowned. “I would like to say yes, but he really is shy. Tell you what, I’ll talk to him about it, say you need some advice, and see if he’ll come out of his shell for a bit.”
Nicholas smiled. Perhaps he was getting somewhere. “Thanks a lot, Carl. I appreciate it.”
Nicholas’ mother was sitting on the couch staring at the wall when he got home. He walked over to her and asked if anything was wrong. “I just got off the phone with your school counselor, Nicholas. I thought something might be up, but it’s worse than I thought. Come here, honey.” She reached her arms out to hug him, looking like she was about to cry.
Nicholas hugged his mother for the sole reason that it seemed she needed it more than he did. “Mom… Everything’s fine. It’s just… You wouldn't understand.”
“I know you shut yourself in your room up there but I don’t know what you do. It scares me,” she explained. “And this talk about what’s in your head… Are you hearing voices? Please tell me, sweetie.”
“No Mom… I’m not hearing voices.” Nicholas was unsure if interacting with people beyond one’s own space and time counted as “hearing voices” but he was going to give himself the benefit of the doubt. He seemed to have calmed his mother down and, as soon as he could, retreated to his bedroom. He stared at his doodles of Emily and the ghost town.
“You've been very kind to me, Nicholas,” said Emily. “You’re the first boy my age I’ve encountered here, and you are very much like me, especially since you are here.” Nicholas and Emily sat in her study. Emily was staring out the window at the foggy forest beyond. She sounded wistful. “I want to be with you always.”
Nicholas sighed and pondered her remark. “But we can’t always be together, Emily. We live in different times and places.”
Emily smiled and looked back at him. “Who says we have to live?”
“Emily…” Nicholas reached out to her to take her hand, but she stood up from her desk chair.
“Goodbye, Nicholas. I’ll see you soon.” To his horror, Emily took a shaking hand to her throat, as if she was holding something, like a dagger. “I’ll never have to go back,” she whispered.
“NO! EMILY!” Nicholas screamed as she sliced her throat with the invisible dagger. The only explanation was her suicide in the real world. Emily collapsed on the floor, but there was no Carroll 11 blood. “No… no no no…” Nicholas knelt down. Her body was slowly becoming transparent and fading away. He didn’t understand. “ROB!”
Nicholas raced down the stairs and found Rob outside the house on the porch swing. He explained through hot tears, “Emily just killed herself. In her own world. Then she, she faded…”
“Oh. Well, I better get my guitar out!” Rob smiled. “It’s time!”
Nicholas wanted to punch Rob. But he didn’t, since Rob wouldn’t feel it anyway and there could be something he wasn’t getting. Rob raced into the house and came back with the guitar. “Come on, follow me!” he motioned to Nicholas.
Rob led Nicholas to the town square. Nicholas had never been there before. There were a lot of people he’d never seen, and they all looked like ghosts, but they weren’t. They were just really pale and wore dark clothing and they all looked like they were from different time periods. He thought he saw someone who looked like Leo Tolstoy, with a long beard.
Throughout the murmuring of the crowd Nicholas figured out everyone was looking toward the forest on the plateau, the same forest that Nicholas had first been to when he imagined this place. He heard a slight gasp from a woman near him and he looked up as well.
Emily emerged from the forest in a radiant, ethereal glow. It was like she was carrying the fog with her as she descended from the plateau and walked toward the town. She was not wearing her usual nineteenth century garb, instead, she wore a flowing gray-white tunic and white lilies in her long, unkempt hair, like a goddess. Her face was serene and she did not notice Nicholas as she joined the communion of the dead waiting for her in the town square.
Nicholas woke up with tears streaming down his face. He sat up on his bed and suddenly he noticed his parents across the room from him. They, and a strange man he had never seen before, were silent as if they had just finished a conversation he was not supposed to hear.
“Nicholas, my name is Dr. Larici. I have been talking with your parents and I’m here to help you. I understand you’re going through a tough time right now. Can you tell me anything about what you’ve been experiencing?” said the stranger.
So, shaking, Nicholas told them a brief and edited version of what had happened. He was daydreaming, he discovered the source of his dreams, and his friend killed herself in the process, which is why he was upset. He even showed them his best portrait of Emily, one he colored with his best colored pencils. The whole time Dr. Larici scribbled on his notepad and occasionally showed his notes to Nicholas’ parents.
“I know you think I made this up. I’m hallucinating. I’m daydreaming. But it’s real, I tell you, I know it’s real! She really did die, I was there!” Nicholas screamed in a wavering voice. Dr. Larici muttered something to Nicholas’ mother, who nodded and turned to her son.
“We just want to see you happy again, Nicholas, and not in so much pain. I hear you yelling sometimes… The doctor is going to prescribe something for you. You won’t suffer any longer.”
“I’m not! I haven’t been happier—“
“What are you say—“
“Shut UP!”
Nicholas couldn't take it anymore so he got up and left his room, taking the portrait with him. Of course they think I’m hearing voices and am schizophrenic or something, he thought. He collected his nerves and headed to the one place he might get an answer.
“Carl. Carl!” Nicholas raced into Fantasy Comics and slammed the paper with Emily’s portrait on the counter. “Look at this. Do you know this girl?” he asked in a grave tone.
“Dude. She looks like one of those really old photographs. Did you draw that? That’s really good, man! You should—“
“I don’t care. What about your brother? He’s an introvert. We all know each other. I need you to find out if he knows her.”
“Nicholas, what is wrong with you? Are you okay?” asked Carl, staring at Nicholas’ flustered face. “Use logic here. My brother would not know this girl. He would have to be really old and he’s only like twenty-seven.”
Nicholas fell silent for a few moments. “You have to give this to him. I need to know or it’s going to kill me.”
“I’ll tell you what. He wrote this program to aggregate databases of graveyards. He’s kind of a morbid guy that way. Anyway, I’ll ask him if he can find this girl’s name. What is it?”
“Emily.”
“Emily…?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then I can’t make any promises.”
Nicholas’ parents burst in to the comic shop as if they had run down the street. His mother breathed a sigh of relief. Dr. Larici followed moments after. “Nicholas… we’re going to need to take you to the hospital for some tests.”
Days later, Nicholas received an email from someone named [email protected]. He was out of the hospital, finally, and had had some peace of mind, if he dared to admit it. Emily’s death was fading away like a memory. Maybe it was just a dream. Nicholas opened the email from a stranger.
Inside was a short note and two attachments.
“Nicholas,
I thank you for what you have done for me. Since I found out you exist, I have gone
back to this world for the first time in years. The first file attached is what you gave me
and the second, a gift to you. I hope you remember to go back once in a while.
— R”
The first attachment was a scan of his portrait of Emily.
The second attachment was what looked like a satellite photo of a gravestone on which was drawn an arrow pointing to a name. Underneath were latitude and longitude coordinates, but Nicholas didn’t have to look them up to guess where it was. He read the thinly carved name on the solitary stone:
Emily Von Brandt.
Her voice echoed in his head, and he realized he had drifted into a daydream while staring at his computer. “Nicholas!”
He stared at her. “What?”
“I loved the drawing. Rob showed me.”
“I know.”
“You two are from the same time. So lucky.”
Nicholas laughed, but then frowned. “You didn't have to give up.”
Emily paused for a moment. “…You’re right.”
Nicholas was not expecting that answer. But she continued, “I get to write all I want here. But for whom? Only for us folk. For you, it’s only the beginning.”
“The beginning of what?”
“Of making the connections. The connections between the living. The land of the dead is nothing without the imagination of the living. And…”
“And what?” Nicholas asked as she trailed off.
“And saving people’s lives.” Nicholas heard a familiar guitar sound coming from the porch swing outside.
He doesn't remember when he first saw her. Frankly, she appeared just like any of his other characters. Talentless artist and average high school student Nicholas Barnard was staring into space one Wednesday free period and he just saw her. He was imagining walking around in a forest, but it was foggy with morning dew. He came to see the edge of the forest and walked toward the clearing of spindly trees, but he didn't make it before he heard --
“Nicholas?”
Bolt. Awake. Now. Brain. On. “What?”
Mr. Callahan, the history teacher, sighed. “I asked, what did Brown vs. Board of Education rule?”
Nicholas searched his brain for an answer, but his brain was still foggy and filled with quickly-fading trees. “Desegregation… something?” he spit out.
“Correct. Desegregation of public schools.” Mr. Callahan seemed to admire Nicholas’ ability to daydream and still know the answer. Nicholas supposed it just came naturally with a high IQ. Like sitting alone at lunch.
Nicholas hated when people yelled at him to stop staring into space/stop daydreaming/ pay attention/et cetera. He was just one of those people, one of those who liked to “check out” of the real world. No one around him seemed to understand that.
During free period, Nicholas worked on calculus, but there was the forest with the spindly trees. He imagined it again. It really was beautiful with the fog. He could do whatever he wanted here, like make a dinosaur come to the forest and tear it down. But he enjoyed its current peace.
He walked to the forest clearing and saw he was standing on a plateau. In the valley below was a ghost town. How interesting! he thought. Nicholas decided to climb down the small plateau and investigate this new creation.
As he was walking, a girl with long black hair and dragon wings zoomed above his head, not bothering to notice him. It’s Shadow Dragon! he thought to himself. One of the superheroes he had drawn in his notebooks at school. But… this wasn’t Los Angeles. Shadow Dragon lives in L. A. because that’s where he imagines her to live. Oh well. He guessed she had just crossed his mind for a moment.
Nicholas looked around the ghost town. There was a convenience store, and a restaurant, and some apartments. Every building was dilapidated in some form.
Nicholas heard footsteps — soft, slow footsteps. In their direction stood a teenage girl. She had light brown hair tied up in a bun, and she was wearing one of those late 1800s dresses. The dress was purple with little details and very pretty. So was she… but he had never seen her before. How could a new character take him by surprise? What was this pl—
“Nicholas! Come on, I need help with the dishes,” his mother nagged. Apparently supper was over. Nicholas had eaten but barely spoke. Usually he could keep on a conversation with his parents and sister, but not after that.
After supper Nicholas headed up to his room to read the new issues he pulled this week. Or at least, that’s what he told his family. He really had to go back to that place he had been imagining. It sounded strange, musing about his daydreams as if he was traveling to them. He almost felt like a scientist on the verge of a new discovery. He just had to experiment.
Nicholas lay on his bed and closed his eyes. Instantly he was back in the ghost town. The broken buildings seemed so vivid to him this time. The world in his head was creating itself around him. What? What am I thinking? I’m going crazy! he thought as he explored the streets. Running. He heard running behind the corner coffee shop. Nicholas’ heart began to beat faster and faster as his nerves went haywire. But he had to find out and he rounded the corner of the coffee shop and the running stopped. The girl faced him dead on.
They stared at each other for a few seconds. It seemed as though the girl was examining him much more closely than he was examining her. She had soft blue-gray eyes and her hair was still in a bun. She had the same purple dress on and dainty black laced boots.
“…Hello.”
What? Nicholas screamed to himself. His eyes widened in utter shock. She’s talking to me. She’s talking to me. A girl in my head is talking to me. “Hi.” He waved awkwardly.
The girl spoke up again. “Who are you, and why do you look so peculiar?” She pointed to his clothing and face. She had an accent of some sort. Like in movies.
“You’re asking… How did you… What…” Nicholas stuttered. He stared at the ground and held his head between his hands. He’d always known he was a little crazy, for enjoying reading or being introverted perhaps, but this took the cake. Next stop, insane asylum.
But he had to stay here, stay daydreaming. This was important — he was a scientist here, remember? Oh no. The girl was coming closer.
She put her hand on her heart, as if in introduction. “My name is Emily. You seem a bit frightened by all this, and I am too,” her large eyes stared into his. “But I am also curious. Am I making this up? Of course I am, of course I am!” She did seem frazzled in her speech.
Suddenly Nicholas felt protective of the frightened girl. “It’s okay. I’m thinking the exact same thing. Which means we are making this up. Or, I am.”
Emily shook her head. “I wouldn’t be so sure. Have you met the others?”
Nicholas stared at her in utter disbelief and said nothing. Emily walked past him and approached an old house near the coffee shop. It looked Victorian. Perhaps Emily felt at home there. Nicholas hit himself on the head for thinking about her as if she wasn’t a character, and followed her invitation inside.
Somebody was playing guitar in the darkly lit living room. “Hello there, Emily!” the player exclaimed. He stopped strumming and looked up at Emily and her new companion. He was a man in about his late thirties, thinning dark hair and thick glasses, with a huge smile on his face sitting in a rocking chair.
“I found one,” said Emily. She gestured to Nicholas. “Tell us your name?”
“Nicholas.” Nicholas was breathing quite heavily and nervously at this point. He was wringing his hands and they were beginning to get clammy.
“Hi, Nicholas! Welcome--
“—then we take the derivative of x to the fourth, which gets us…”
“Fucking DAMNIT!” Nicholas swore only partially under his breath. Some of his nearby Calculus classmates jumped, others stared. He started sweating. People were staring. He was in class. He had somehow tuned back in to life, despite the continuous daydream. Now how was he supposed to continue his meeting with Emily and the guitar guy?
You made them up, you dumbass. They’ll be in the same place you left off, just like every other story you’ve made up, Nicholas told himself. He started taking notes to attempt to calm himself down. Despite this setback, he had to get back.
After an anxiety-filled day of school, Nicholas could finally retreat to his bedroom. During that school day all he had done was doodle pictures of Emily so he would remember her.
He walked straight past the forest, into the town, into the house. He breathed a sigh of relief. Guitar guy was still there, but he didn’t notice Nicholas. He was talking to a small group of children sitting on the floor facing him.
“WHAT?” Nicholas yelled. “I mean… I’m sorry.” The children stared at him and the guitar guy smiled.
“You’re new here. Why don’t you join us? Perhaps you’ll come to find it’s not so scary,” he said in a rather patronizing tone.
Nicholas gingerly took a seat next to a little boy who was about five. He didn't notice Nicholas but was staring at the guitar guy intensely, like he was staring into space.
“Oh, and you can call me Rob,” said the guitar guy. He began to strum and sing:
Come on and play with us, everyone, here
It’s not a place you have to fear.
I found it one day and you have found too
That here you can do what you want to do.
You may find it gives you a reason to smile
But remember to go back once in a while.
Rob winked at Nicholas and continued to strum a rhythm. “Emily is upstairs if you’d like to see her.” Bewildered by the haunting song, Nicholas slowly got up and went to the staircase. He heard the children chime in to Rob’s strumming.
“Play another one, Rob!”
“We love you, Rob.”
“I don’t want to go back
Nicholas arrived up the stairs and saw an open door to a study. Inside, Emily sat at a desk, writing with a quill. She wore a red dress today. Nicholas knocked at the door.
“Come in!” said Emily cheerfully.
“What are you writing?” asked Nicholas.
“Oh, I love to write. I am just musing on some questions I have been pondering as of late.” She took the parchment she had been writing on and showed him proudly. In beautiful calligraphy were the questions:
What is the only world humans have other than the real one?
Where do we go when we die?
What if it’s the same?
“Emily…” Nicholas put his hand on her shoulder.
Emily looked at the floor. “I don’t want to go back. Ever, ever again.”
He was beginning to figure it out. This place was a place where you go when you’re not in the real world. The source. The source of all daydreams. The dream world. And just a few days ago Nicholas had become conscious of all the other dreamers. But now, the girl with a porcelain face wanted to destroy herself.
Nicholas sat down on a plush chair across from the desk. “Emily… do you want to die?”
“Let me tell you something, Nicholas. I was born into a high class family in New York, and in the real world, my only purpose is to marry a rich man. I want to be a writer. I make up stories, just like you do! We all do. That’s how we got here. I know you know now.”
Nicholas was at a loss for words. Here he was, and he lived in Ohio. Yet…
Suddenly Emily took his hands into hers. “The only place in the whole world I can write in peace is here. When I’m not daydreaming, I’m being primped and polished by my mother for the next outing. I hate it! I hate it so much.” Emily’s voice began to falter in sobs and she hung her head.
“Emily… Don’t do that… Don’t…” but her image and the room faded away as Nicholas leapt back into reality. He was in his bedroom and it was dark. He looked at his watch on the nightstand: 3am. He guessed he was night dreaming this time.
The following day Nicholas found himself in the counselor’s office. He wasn't sure why he was there, only that he hadn't talked to anyone much and he felt he needed to get something out.
“I… I think I have a friend who is considering committing suicide,” Nicholas told the counselor.
“I’m sorry, Nicholas. And who is that?” asked Dr. Carlson, a blonde, kind woman of about forty.
“Her name is Emily.”
“I see. Does she go to school here?”
“No.”
“Where does she live?”
Nicholas paused. He knew this would be a bad answer, but he was so downtrodden. “She lives in my head.” He put his head in his hands in defeat.
Dr. Carlson wrote a note on her notepad.
Nicholas sat in his bedroom with the door closed. He had only one thought in his mind, and to a normal person it wouldn’t make much sense: he wanted to go home. He had become addicted to the ghost town and the forest and the house and Emily and Rob and the guitar, and now he thought of that place as home. But they all did too, and this brooding wasn’t going to get him anywhere.
Nicholas opened the door to Fantasy Comics and the little bell rang. “Hey, Nicholas! It’s been a while!” said Carl, the manager. Nicholas waved and greeted him warmly. Here was a place he felt he belonged in the real world, thought Nicholas. Comic book nerds always had their heads in the clouds, right? This wasn’t serious, not at all. “Looking for anything in particular?” asked Carl.
“Not necessarily, beyond a little advice,” said Nicholas. He leaned his elbows on the shop counter.
“What’s up?”
“You stare into space and think about stuff a lot, right? You know, like having an imaginative nature.”
“Yeah, but I’m a bit more extroverted and in tune with the world than some of the people I know. Hence my being a comic store manager. You kind of have to be a people person to sell stuff,” replied Carl. “My brother is a prime example of who you’re talking about though. He’s a computer programmer but he works from home. Doesn't talk much, but when he does it’s actually pretty fascinating.”
“Do you think I could talk to him? There’s just been something nagging me about being a dreamer, so to speak.”
Carl frowned. “I would like to say yes, but he really is shy. Tell you what, I’ll talk to him about it, say you need some advice, and see if he’ll come out of his shell for a bit.”
Nicholas smiled. Perhaps he was getting somewhere. “Thanks a lot, Carl. I appreciate it.”
Nicholas’ mother was sitting on the couch staring at the wall when he got home. He walked over to her and asked if anything was wrong. “I just got off the phone with your school counselor, Nicholas. I thought something might be up, but it’s worse than I thought. Come here, honey.” She reached her arms out to hug him, looking like she was about to cry.
Nicholas hugged his mother for the sole reason that it seemed she needed it more than he did. “Mom… Everything’s fine. It’s just… You wouldn't understand.”
“I know you shut yourself in your room up there but I don’t know what you do. It scares me,” she explained. “And this talk about what’s in your head… Are you hearing voices? Please tell me, sweetie.”
“No Mom… I’m not hearing voices.” Nicholas was unsure if interacting with people beyond one’s own space and time counted as “hearing voices” but he was going to give himself the benefit of the doubt. He seemed to have calmed his mother down and, as soon as he could, retreated to his bedroom. He stared at his doodles of Emily and the ghost town.
“You've been very kind to me, Nicholas,” said Emily. “You’re the first boy my age I’ve encountered here, and you are very much like me, especially since you are here.” Nicholas and Emily sat in her study. Emily was staring out the window at the foggy forest beyond. She sounded wistful. “I want to be with you always.”
Nicholas sighed and pondered her remark. “But we can’t always be together, Emily. We live in different times and places.”
Emily smiled and looked back at him. “Who says we have to live?”
“Emily…” Nicholas reached out to her to take her hand, but she stood up from her desk chair.
“Goodbye, Nicholas. I’ll see you soon.” To his horror, Emily took a shaking hand to her throat, as if she was holding something, like a dagger. “I’ll never have to go back,” she whispered.
“NO! EMILY!” Nicholas screamed as she sliced her throat with the invisible dagger. The only explanation was her suicide in the real world. Emily collapsed on the floor, but there was no Carroll 11 blood. “No… no no no…” Nicholas knelt down. Her body was slowly becoming transparent and fading away. He didn’t understand. “ROB!”
Nicholas raced down the stairs and found Rob outside the house on the porch swing. He explained through hot tears, “Emily just killed herself. In her own world. Then she, she faded…”
“Oh. Well, I better get my guitar out!” Rob smiled. “It’s time!”
Nicholas wanted to punch Rob. But he didn’t, since Rob wouldn’t feel it anyway and there could be something he wasn’t getting. Rob raced into the house and came back with the guitar. “Come on, follow me!” he motioned to Nicholas.
Rob led Nicholas to the town square. Nicholas had never been there before. There were a lot of people he’d never seen, and they all looked like ghosts, but they weren’t. They were just really pale and wore dark clothing and they all looked like they were from different time periods. He thought he saw someone who looked like Leo Tolstoy, with a long beard.
Throughout the murmuring of the crowd Nicholas figured out everyone was looking toward the forest on the plateau, the same forest that Nicholas had first been to when he imagined this place. He heard a slight gasp from a woman near him and he looked up as well.
Emily emerged from the forest in a radiant, ethereal glow. It was like she was carrying the fog with her as she descended from the plateau and walked toward the town. She was not wearing her usual nineteenth century garb, instead, she wore a flowing gray-white tunic and white lilies in her long, unkempt hair, like a goddess. Her face was serene and she did not notice Nicholas as she joined the communion of the dead waiting for her in the town square.
Nicholas woke up with tears streaming down his face. He sat up on his bed and suddenly he noticed his parents across the room from him. They, and a strange man he had never seen before, were silent as if they had just finished a conversation he was not supposed to hear.
“Nicholas, my name is Dr. Larici. I have been talking with your parents and I’m here to help you. I understand you’re going through a tough time right now. Can you tell me anything about what you’ve been experiencing?” said the stranger.
So, shaking, Nicholas told them a brief and edited version of what had happened. He was daydreaming, he discovered the source of his dreams, and his friend killed herself in the process, which is why he was upset. He even showed them his best portrait of Emily, one he colored with his best colored pencils. The whole time Dr. Larici scribbled on his notepad and occasionally showed his notes to Nicholas’ parents.
“I know you think I made this up. I’m hallucinating. I’m daydreaming. But it’s real, I tell you, I know it’s real! She really did die, I was there!” Nicholas screamed in a wavering voice. Dr. Larici muttered something to Nicholas’ mother, who nodded and turned to her son.
“We just want to see you happy again, Nicholas, and not in so much pain. I hear you yelling sometimes… The doctor is going to prescribe something for you. You won’t suffer any longer.”
“I’m not! I haven’t been happier—“
“What are you say—“
“Shut UP!”
Nicholas couldn't take it anymore so he got up and left his room, taking the portrait with him. Of course they think I’m hearing voices and am schizophrenic or something, he thought. He collected his nerves and headed to the one place he might get an answer.
“Carl. Carl!” Nicholas raced into Fantasy Comics and slammed the paper with Emily’s portrait on the counter. “Look at this. Do you know this girl?” he asked in a grave tone.
“Dude. She looks like one of those really old photographs. Did you draw that? That’s really good, man! You should—“
“I don’t care. What about your brother? He’s an introvert. We all know each other. I need you to find out if he knows her.”
“Nicholas, what is wrong with you? Are you okay?” asked Carl, staring at Nicholas’ flustered face. “Use logic here. My brother would not know this girl. He would have to be really old and he’s only like twenty-seven.”
Nicholas fell silent for a few moments. “You have to give this to him. I need to know or it’s going to kill me.”
“I’ll tell you what. He wrote this program to aggregate databases of graveyards. He’s kind of a morbid guy that way. Anyway, I’ll ask him if he can find this girl’s name. What is it?”
“Emily.”
“Emily…?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then I can’t make any promises.”
Nicholas’ parents burst in to the comic shop as if they had run down the street. His mother breathed a sigh of relief. Dr. Larici followed moments after. “Nicholas… we’re going to need to take you to the hospital for some tests.”
Days later, Nicholas received an email from someone named [email protected]. He was out of the hospital, finally, and had had some peace of mind, if he dared to admit it. Emily’s death was fading away like a memory. Maybe it was just a dream. Nicholas opened the email from a stranger.
Inside was a short note and two attachments.
“Nicholas,
I thank you for what you have done for me. Since I found out you exist, I have gone
back to this world for the first time in years. The first file attached is what you gave me
and the second, a gift to you. I hope you remember to go back once in a while.
— R”
The first attachment was a scan of his portrait of Emily.
The second attachment was what looked like a satellite photo of a gravestone on which was drawn an arrow pointing to a name. Underneath were latitude and longitude coordinates, but Nicholas didn’t have to look them up to guess where it was. He read the thinly carved name on the solitary stone:
Emily Von Brandt.
Her voice echoed in his head, and he realized he had drifted into a daydream while staring at his computer. “Nicholas!”
He stared at her. “What?”
“I loved the drawing. Rob showed me.”
“I know.”
“You two are from the same time. So lucky.”
Nicholas laughed, but then frowned. “You didn't have to give up.”
Emily paused for a moment. “…You’re right.”
Nicholas was not expecting that answer. But she continued, “I get to write all I want here. But for whom? Only for us folk. For you, it’s only the beginning.”
“The beginning of what?”
“Of making the connections. The connections between the living. The land of the dead is nothing without the imagination of the living. And…”
“And what?” Nicholas asked as she trailed off.
“And saving people’s lives.” Nicholas heard a familiar guitar sound coming from the porch swing outside.