So, one minute I’m a free, independent human soul with a body and clothes to my name; the next minute, I’m trapped who knows where with my head reeling and my leg snapped in two.
It was a pack of boys who did it. After the losses they’d suffered in the pandemic, for them, nothing was ‘too low’ anymore. So they’d come after me. I’d ran for my life until I was cornered. The only thing between me and safety was a high, brick wall. Wisteria covered it and statues adorned it. I’d climbed up easily enough but, when I’d swung my legs over the top, they’d knocked something loose. I’d fallen off the wall, the pain had exploded and the displaced object had landed on my head.
Next thing I know, I’m surrounded by these strange creatures shining a light on me. They sound like people but they don’t look it. I don’t understand a word they’re saying; all I know is that I’m being taken away.
Now all I can see is the stars and the moon. It’s a clear night, but then it has been since I woke up here, too long ago for just one night. I’m warm and comfortable but I can’t tell what I’m lying on. It feels like a bed but the material is something else. The soft moaning and sighing around me suggests there are other people here, but I can’t see them at all. I’ve tried to get up many times, only my leg is too stiff and painful to move. Every time I think to call out for help, I hear the same voice whispering.
“Stella, relax. You’re in good hands…”
So I lie here and think – not about family, I have no real one to think of – but I ponder about what’ll happen next and what’s happening now in the outside world (outdoors as I appear to be, this does feel like an enclosed space with a roof on it).
Sometimes I nod off, hoping as I drift that this is all a dream, yet I come back to find myself exactly as I am. To keep the despair at bay, I let myself go, staring up at the starry sky and taking it in. Sometimes, it does look beautiful…
Every so often, I smell food coming: sweet honey, juicy fruit and warming spices. The creatures offer it to me. I don’t always have an appetite but I reach for it anyway. It’s always so delicious, perhaps because of the dark.
Slowly, the tension melts. I don’t realise I had any until it’s gone. I do feel relaxed, perfectly content to lie on my back and watch the sky. At times, the stillness is broken by intermittent shooting stars. Once, the northern lights appeared, sending out radiant beams of blue, white and green. And my broken leg? Ha, what broken leg? I forget it even existed.
The creatures come again. But I don’t care; their reason can’t be that bad. They’ve made a triangle around my bed. I feel like I’m floating. They hold their hands over my bad leg and start chanting in low, hushed voices.
I hardly listen; my focus is now entirely on my injury. Thousands of hot needles are pricking it all over; I wish they would stop. Then the pain is numbing; I can’t feel any part of it.
My body is like a bag of metal rods, pulled end-to-end by magnets. My leg is no longer bent awkwardly, but whole and straight. Something falls away – maybe the splint, if there was one.
The chanting echoes into silence. The hands are withdrawn and I fall. The stars fade away into blackness. Am I falling asleep again? It’s happening too quickly to think about. I fall further than perhaps I should, through the air, down through the bed, going, going…
The ground is wet and cold; I open my eyes … it’s my old street. The sun is rising over the neighbour’s roof, shining on the concrete pavement I’m lying on. I get up this time, inch by inch, no pain or stiffness to stop me. I look around and – what’s this? My old childhood home? How did I get here?
It’s just as I remember; a small, terraced house with a lawn and a paving-stone path to the front door. There’s a sign beside the gate: ‘For Sale – Abandoned Property’.
Well, that’s not going to be the case anymore. I check my pockets, looking for my valuables. My fingers find the small, metal key I’ve used a million times. I go to the front door and try it; the lock opens with no resistance at all. I step into the hallway.
“Hello?” I call out, though I don’t expect an answer nor do I get one. Good, I think. The last thing I need at the moment is to have to answer questions. I go to the little bathroom at the back to rub some hot water on my face. Everything looks the same – rooms, furniture, the decorations, even the little bits and bobs displayed since I was a child. There’s nothing at all to indicate or explain what I’ve just been through.
Except one small thing.
I find it in my reflection in the bathroom mirror above the sink. For a moment, I’m puzzled. I don’t remember getting or wearing a pendant last night. Yet there it is. On a short, thin chain hangs a small, crystal bauble as round and black as my pupils. In its centre is a tiny, white, metal star. As I turn my head, the bathroom light catches it and makes it twinkle, like the stars I saw in that place.
I smile proudly. I think I’ll keep it as a souvenir – and take up astronomy…
By N H Taylor. This entry was the winner of the Wokingham Writers Group autumn challenge.
