Gateway to Astria - Part 1

by Isaiah Gray

  ~*~

  I was back at the edge, the edge between darkness and the scene before me, a perfectly white sidewalk and smooth gray road. My body forced a step forward inside, I tried to fight it but it was useless.

  Everything was normal, I could feel the crisp nip of the dry wind blowing on my face. I could hear an animal tipping over a trash can with a loud “bang!” in the alley.

  A tingling sensation shot through my entire body. I could move again. I whirled around to run back, but all that was there,was a glass window. The darkness was gone. I set my hand to the glass and sighed. I know where I am. I stood at this very spot that very day… June 26th, 2211. It’s been nearly three years.

  I wanted to find a corner to hide in. I don't want to watch this again. Why does this always happen to me. I lived it once, seen this twice, they've broken me all three times.

  I turned around and started to run, but it was the same result. Something kept me from walking away. I could move, but it felt like I was stuck. It kept me facing the disaster that was about to unfold. I sighed and closed my eyes, at least I didn't have to look. But that's when I heard her... me.

  My voice sounded like me, but the tone did not. I sounded happy. I slowly peeped my eyes open. The younger Natalia and my dad were headed right for me. My body just dissipated into mist and then reformed as they passed through it like nothing had happened. I gave a tiny yelp, but no sound came out. They couldn't see me, feel me, hear me or smell me.

  “Dad! Come quick!” My fifteen-year-old self giddily exclaimed. Shaking my head, I couldn't believe how I acted, how I dressed, how I looked. It was the day before my birthday, my dad had had me dress up. Informally dressed up I guess would describe it. My dad came around the corner, I giggled and spun as my dress flowed with the air. I couldn't stand myself – all the cream lace and blossoming frills. Entangled at the collar, was the cuffs – even sewn in ribbons at the hem. It was ridiculous. I was ridiculous. And high heels? Good Lord, what was I thinking.

  There was one thing that stood out – the color. White. The purest yet the most easily tainted. I can remember my mom's words as if it was yesterday. Her countless comments on how it brought out the tints of silver in my eyes. The constant exclamations on how it “made my smile shine even brighter”. In the years since she passed, it's one of the things I treasure. Though I don't always agree with what she said, I still wear it to remember her. Over the years I’ve lost so many mementos of hers: many of her trinkets and gifts were lost in moving and a few other disasters and chaos. I tried to hold on to the few things I had left to help me remember the compassion she showed me – as a mom and as a friend. She really was the only friend I’ve ever had back then.

  My dad and I sat down at a table in front of an ice cream shop; we had thirty minutes before the dinner. I'm not sure why, but I found myself watching what was about to unfold like a movie, like I had never seen it before. I just stood – eyes closed and ears tuned.

  “So... I have a few... apologies to make.” My dad said with a hint of nervousness in his eyes. It was unlike him.

  “N-No dad, you don’t-”

  “Yes I do!” He said, cutting my younger self off. His tone startled my poor helpless self. I sat in my chair, waiting for his attempt at an apology, he’s tried it before and it never goes over well.

  “N-Natalia... I know I’m not the best father I could be... I drink, I can’t control my anger, and it comes out on you.”

  “Yea...” she mumbled softly.

  “I’m sorry; I know it’s been hard, with your mother and all. I’m trying to work on it, But I...”

  He just stopped and sighed, I could see the sincerity in his eyes, but a loss for words as well.

  “Dad. It’s alright. You have your bad moments, but you have you’re good ones as well. It’s a process.”

  He glanced up at her with a tiny smirk, it looked reassuring to him. “Thank you.” He took her hands and clasped them in his, gently caressing them. “Thank you for being so forgiving, I’m proud to...”

  He stopped suddenly. A muffled sound arose in the distance. We all turned our head its direction.

  It’s starting. I clamped my eyelids shut. It didn’t help. The images ingrained into my head. I knew exactly what was going to happen. It played like a video as if I was seeing it. I tried to will it to go away, but it would not.

  But something else was pushing me to watch. Every bone in me was screaming to watch it unfold before me as it had done countless other times. I couldn’t help it; I gave in.

  We were all standing, peering down the street. A mob of people swinging guns, signs and holding banners were marching towards us. Glancing around at everyone nearby, they were all confused. Nobody knew why they were here. They began firing off old World War III rifles. Everyone, including me thought they were just blanks, but then it started.

  They were spraying bullets by the hundreds up in the air. They came down in a hailstorm only to land in side of buildings and on the street. I stood shocked as a single bullet landed in a boy across the street. It was like nothing I had seen before. Only seconds after the boy collapsed when it hit his leg, his skin started to glow. It got so intense that I had to look away. I heard a tiny explosion and looked back, he was gone, a pool of blood and scattered skin lay where he was.

  My younger self just stood motionless, tears in her eyes. I was planted next to her, a stone cold expression on my face.

  I turned to look at her. A part of me was disgusted, I was so weak, so helpless, so scared. Yet for those reasons I felt something different, I couldn’t pinpoint what it was. Compassion? Guilt? Something kept me from completely and utterly despising who I was. Something was different about this. This was a different experience. What is wrong with me?

  The gentle touch on my hand made me glance down at it. Nothing was touching it. I looked at my other self, my dad had grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the indented door to the shop. It was locked. My dad pounded on the door, yelling and screaming for whoever was inside to open it up. As more small explosions went off around us my dad wrapped his arms around my younger self and huddled by the door. He had me cradled in his arms, his forehead to mine. The screams, the explosions, the yells and the smell of the electronic gunpowder going off in the guns drowned out as she did nothing but stare into my fathers eyes.

  “Everything is going to be okay.” He said softly into her ear. I could hear the fear in his voice, but it somehow comforted me. I felt his warm embrace around my younger self. Though I was standing a few feet away, I could still hear his words in my ear. For a few moments, my heart felt calm, and at peace, it had been so long. Then in an instant it changed.

  I gasped, my heart rate climbed through the roof. It felt like my entire insides were tring to climb up my throat. I looked at my dad, who was gripping his ankle. A bullet had embedded itself in him.

  “DAD!!!” Both me and my younger self yelled.

  My dad knew was was going to happen, he had seen the child as well. He looked up at my younger self and sighed.

  “Natalia... I’m proud to call you my daughter...” He managed out.

  I saw it in his eyes, tears gushed out my own as his eyes and skin started to glow. I was going to lose him again. I wanted to run over and shield my younger self, but I still couldn’t move. My dad got up and ran away, leaving her alone. He only got a few feet away before it happened. Both me and my younger self turned away. The sound came, and then I felt it. A thick liquid soaking my shirt, large drops scattered on my face. I could feel his blood and skin on my own face. My younger self screamed as loud as she could. Heart pounding faster than what I even thought possible, it choked any words out of me. She wiped away the blood and strips of skin that were thrown on her. I could feel the repulsive texture slide off my arms, making me shiver in disgust.

  I looked around; there was nothing but carnage everywhere. It was like something out of a bad movie. The streets were stained with blood flowing down into the sew
age systems.

  I saw myself get up and run, bullets whizzing by her head, missing only by a few inches. Unfortunately, one skinned her leg, only shaving the side. Screaming in pain as she tripped into an alley where she hid behind the garbage can, I gripped my leg, I felt the searing burn of the bullet. I could see only her hands wringing blood out of her dress, which dripped and slid down her leg. The bullet left glowing remains on the edges of the almost burnt-like skin in its wake. Both her and my hands shook as I could hear myself crying in agony. Something propelled me over to her. Crouched down next to her, I saw her tears mix with the smears of blood on her cheek. I stretched out my hand to hers, but only dissipated and went right through as my own eyes started to water.

  The dream was ending, I would wake up with the images freshly engraved into my mind. Like tiny leaves, my younger self’s skin started to flake away, leave only pure white where it was. The buildings and surroundings as well. The sound drowned away until only pure white was left. My heart rate dropped, slowing and slowing until it felt nonexistent.

  Then a surge of energy flew through me, and I was awake.