Follow the Hummingbird (The Dream Tamer Chronicles Book 1)

by Elena Carter

  The fog cleared, and the hummingbird disappeared with it.

  Tina was looking at a wall with two doors in front of her.

  On the left was a white door with a large stained glass mosaic in the middle, like the ones Tina saw in the “strawberry world,” as she called it. The mosaic depicted a brightly colored hummingbird hovering over a vibrant purple flower.

  On the right, the brown wooden door looked painfully familiar, but it took Tina a minute to figure out what it was. There was a brass number “4” on the top, and the keys were in the lock with a little airplane hanging off the key chain—Greg’s present. The door to her home.

  Tina glanced at the left door again. There was also a key in the lock.

  Both were open for her.

  And she had to make a decision.

  Tina turned around. The hummingbird was gone. The milky white fog, resembling foam on her favorite cappuccino, was creeping up behind her.

  She turned back to the doors.

  She reached out to the bright mosaic and traced the outline of the hummingbird gently. She realized she was still holding the five leaves from the Tree of Answers in her right hand. She looked at them, then she looked at the doors.

  A tear trickled down her cheek and paused on her chin before dropping into the mist now surrounding Tina.

  She straightened, lifted her chin, took a deep breath, and opened the door on the right.

  Dear reader,

  First of all, thank you for picking up and reading my book! I sincerely hope that you have enjoyed following Tina on her amazing journey.

  I would greatly appreciate any feedback, and it would mean a lot if you could leave a review sharing your thoughts on this book.

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  All the best,

  Elena

  The Town

  Welcome to The Town.

  At first glance, it’s just an ordinary little town. It’s got everything any other town has.

  There’s a downtown area with a busy shopping street, full of little shops and cozy street cafes.

  There are a few parks with ducks swimming in the ponds and squirrels hiding from you in the branches of the tall trees, unless, of course, they see you’re bringing treats, in which case they’ll be a lot more visible.

  There are schools and hospitals, police and fire stations, libraries and movie theaters. There are calm and peaceful neighborhoods with immaculate lawns and swimming pools in their backyards, and there are districts you might not want to hang around in late at night.

  There are car parks and bus stops, big shopping centers and little bakeries, fountains and flower beds in the city center and kids’ playgrounds in the sleepy outskirts.

  There’s an old train station.

  And if you’re driving, you’ll be greeted by a sign saying “Welcome to The Town”.

  It’s just your ordinary little town, similar to thousands of towns like this throughout the world.

  And yet it’s very different.

  Unbeknownst to most of its residents, The Town’s core, its very essence, is interlaced with magic.

  There are strange and extraordinary things happening every day. They might be happening next door, or right around the corner, while you’re looking the other way. They might be happening behind the closed doors of somebody’s home, or right in front of you, while you’re enjoying your morning coffee.

  But if you keep your eyes and heart open and listen closely, then maybe -- just maybe -- The Town will share some of its stories with you.

  The Northern Lights

  They’re fighting again.

  I’m floating under the ceiling, next to the big lamp with only three bulbs working out of five. It’s old and dusty, parts of it are wrapped in cobwebs.

  I know very well that they’re not aware of my presence, yet I still feel conscious. I guess I still haven’t gotten used to this fleshless existence.

  Why am I even here?

  “I’ll never forgive you for any of this! You ruined my life!” Margaret weeps.

  “Oh, really? Well, you know what, darling? There wasn’t much to ruin in the first place! And believe me, you managed to fuck it up all on your own, you didn’t need anyone’s assistance. The strong and independent woman you are.” Steve grimaces, sipping his beer and turning away from his wife.

  “I used to be strong and independent. What’s left of that now? Nothing! Zero! Thanks to you. You couldn’t take it though, could you? You couldn’t stand that I wasn’t weak. You had to break me. You and your poor fragile ego, you just couldn’t let me be me, could you?” Black streams of mascara, mixed with tears, run freely down Margaret’s cheeks. There’s so much pain in her eyes. Her hair is a mess, her hands shake uncontrollably. She still has a kitchen towel on her shoulder--they started arguing while she was making dinner.

  “You’re right. Zero. I won’t even argue. Go look at yourself in the mirror!” Her husband spits out hatefully. He takes another big gulp of his beer and pretends to focus on the TV screen.

  “You’re telling ME to go look in the mirror? Are you kidding me? Have you seen yourself? Who the hell do you think you are?” Margaret is getting louder, hysterical notes in her voice are starting to resemble a car alarm.

  “Oh, shut up already! So fucking fed up of your squealing. And you don’t care that Sally is listening, right? Of course you don’t. She’s gonna grow up just like you!”

  “Don’t you dare speak about my daughter that way!” Margaret screams.

  “OUR daughter, Margaret. OUR daughter! And you seem to not give a fuck about her, because you just can’t keep your fucking voice down, can you?” Steve jumps up from his chair, the beer bottle flies across the room and hits a wall, smashing into pieces.

  I shrink instinctively.

  I’m a ghost. I’m invisible. I don’t have a body. I can’t be hurt. I’m not in any danger here. And yet I still shrink and close my eyes, because I’m scared. How the hell do they take it, being vulnerable mortal humans?

  How does Sally take it? How terrified must she be? She’s already been going through a lot lately. I’ve been watching her. I notice how she cries herself to sleep every night. I’ve seen what she writes in her diary. I’ve seen how she googles things like “how to kill yourself” on her phone.

  They don’t know. I don’t even know if they care. She’s just a teenager, and it’s her first crush--one that is literally crushing her. But they’re too absorbed in their own drama to see that.

  I guess I feel it so much because it wasn’t that long ago for me either. I mean, I’m only twenty-three. I was … twenty-three … Forever twenty-three now … Oh, well.

  I was Sally’s age almost yesterday … okay, seven years ago, but it feels like yesterday. His name was Ken. What a stupid name, I thought a few years later. What a beautiful name, I thought back then, while watching him and his girlfriend stroll into the school building holding hands.

  His girlfriend turned my life into a living hell. She was the queen of bullies. And I was too afraid and too ashamed to tell anyone.

  My parents didn’t see me suffer. I figured they wouldn't understand, so I didn’t bother sharing. They didn't fight like this crazy couple does. Well, at least, I had never witnessed it. But they were busy living their lives, focusing on more important things than my first love and my first broken heart. That’s what I told m
yself back then.

  A plate flies past me and smashes into the wall, interrupting my thoughts. I look down. Margaret is wailing, sitting on the kitchen floor, her face is buried in her hands.

  I zip through the wall into Sally’s room. She’s sitting on her bed, white wires of earphones showing from under her dark purple locks. She’s got her music on at maximum volume. I wonder if she can still hear what’s going on in the next room.

  Sally’s eyes are closed, but I see eyelashes clumped together and wet traces on her cheeks. I watch as another tear escapes and trickles down to her chin. Sally doesn’t blink. She sits and cries quietly. I desperately want to console her, but there’s nothing I can do.

  I am so tired of this feeling. Helplessness. I think that's the worst that can happen to anyone. You can see, you can hear, but you can’t say or do anything. You can’t change anything. I guess that would be my one and only piece of advice to those that are still alive, if I had a chance to give it. ”Don’t forget that you can change things while you're still breathing.”

  I watched my parents go crazy with grief. And there was nothing I could do or say. Nothing I could change.

  Margaret continues screaming in the kitchen. I watch Sally slide down the headrest onto her pillows, without opening her eyes. She takes one of the pillows and puts it over her head.

  Of course she can hear everything, even through the music. Fucking idiots. I sigh and return to the kitchen.

  I should have left. I should have watched someone else. The Robinsons, for example. I bet they’re playing cards now. I watched them last week. It was so nice and relaxing.

  Or I could’ve watched TV with Mr. Morris and his cat.

  Or I could pay a visit to the Bradfords and watch them play with their little chubby baby Ben.

  Since I left my parents’ house, I can’t make myself go back. I stayed with them for a couple weeks after the funeral, but I couldn’t handle it anymore.

  “I don’t want to live like that anymore. I just don’t want to live!” Margaret cries.

  I scoff. After dying in my sleep because of a stupid gas leak at twenty-three years old, after hearing all the whispers at my own funeral - all suggesting that it was a suicide - after hearing all that and not being able to reply, I feel so tired and frustrated. I honestly just want to tell people--scream in their faces--that I would give up anything to have my life back, and I would never have taken it in the first place. After all that, I’m kind of allergic to hearing “I don’t want to live anymore” from people. I mean, I know she’s hurt. I see her pain. I know that right now she absolutely doesn’t see any way out, any light in the end of the tunnel, not even a tiny glimpse of hope. Right now, Margaret Evans is in a very bad place. But I also know that she’s got a tomorrow. Well, unless she does anything unforgivably stupid tonight, driven by her emotions. I’m hoping she won’t, though. She does have a tomorrow, and I hope she realizes the value of having that.

  “What the hell do you want from me?” Steve shouts. “Do you think I’m happy with you? You want a divorce? Go ahead. Do me a favor. I can’t stand your wailing anymore!”

  “I had dreams. I wanted to travel the world. I wanted to see the Northern Lights. Instead, I sacrificed everything for you!”

  “Well then go pack your suitcase and fuck off already, will you?”

  Suddenly, I realize something. Enough is enough. I can’t just stay here, and be a permanent fixture in the Town forever. I can’t spend eternity poking my ghostly nose in everyone's lives, just because I don’t have one of my own anymore. Flying through walls, hovering over their heads, eavesdropping, prying on the people I once knew as well as on total strangers, all while avoiding going back to see my parents who suddenly look ten years older.

  I need to leave the Town. The place where I was born and raised, where I laughed and cried, where I fell in love and had my heart broken. The place where once I went to sleep and never woke up.

  Margaret's words may not have been heard by her husband, but they didn’t fall on deaf ears. I heard them, and they spoke to me. They reminded me that I also have always wanted to see the Northern Lights.

  I fly through the closed window. Behind me, the shouting fades away. I shrug off the feeling of guilt that taps on my shoulder as I think of Sally’s tear-stained cheeks.

  I submit to the fact that I can’t change anything.

  I rise above the rooftops into the dark velvet of the night sky and look down at the Town I know and love, bidding it a final farewell.

  Which way is Norway, I wonder?

  The End

  About The Author

  Elena Carter was born in Almaty, Kazakhstan. In 2013, she relocated to Bulgaria to live by the sea in the beautiful city of Varna.

  She has explored many different career paths, from working as a political and human rights assistant at the Netherlands Embassy to making gemstone jewelry. In 2020, while on maternity leave with her youngest son, she decided to finally pursue her life-long dream of becoming a writer.

  When she’s not writing, you might find her chasing her toddler around the house or pushing the stroller along the city streets, while taking pictures of all the cats and flowers around and at the same time thinking of story ideas.

  Currently, she is working on a short story collection as well as the next book in The Dream Tamer Chronicles series.