by Shara Azod
On both sides of the street were little shops—bakeries, coffee houses, butchers, and produce places. She even noticed a clothing store, offering T-shirts and jeans to costumes of older time periods. There were no cars to be seen, nor planes in the air. People went about in horse-drawn carriages that had been decorated with bells and pine garlands. Interestingly, there were no reins on the horses or drivers guiding them. The horses tramped about as though they knew where they were going.
Chrissana kept moving, mainly because she was slowly freezing to death. Maybe if she went inside a shop, she could warm up.
The first place she sought out was the bakery, but she was met at the door by a matronly woman, her mass of red hair pulled up into a bun. “Go try the shop across the way first,” she ordered. Her beady eyes fell to Chrissana’s appearance, and she followed the woman’s gaze over her filthy clothes and the dirt caked on her feet.
“Oh, sorry,” Chrissana said, backing up to cross the street. She was immediately startled by an oncoming carriage.
“And the rules here are no different than where you’re from,” the woman said behind her. “You must look where you’re going.”
Chrissana backed away to allow the carriage to pass. The horse even huffed and shook its head as it passed. She waited until the street was clear then trotted across the cobblestone road.
The shop across the street was called Refreshed, which was painted in gold letters on the display window made up of stained glass. A young blonde-haired woman with pale, white skin met her at the door. She was far more inviting than the one across the street.
“Bon jour, Madam. Come in and be refreshed,” she greeted in a drawling Southern accent. Her clothing reminded her of someone out of the late 50s—a sleeveless, white blouse and capri jeans with the bottom hem folded up. The pink flats on her feet matched her lipstick, and she chewed and popped her bubblegum as though she were following a silent tune.
Chrissana was about to step in when she noticed the white carpet. “Um.”
“Oh you don’t have to worry about that,” the girl said, placing her hand on her back to gently push her inside. “You won’t mess it up.”
The place didn’t appear to be much of a shop, but instead was a narrow hallway with a number of closed doors. Inside the scent of fresh flowers hung heavily in the air. The walls and doors were painted a pistachio green with flowers framing them in various shades of pinks and purples. In the center of each door was a number in gold.
“We’ll put you in room number five.” The attendant told her, opening up the door. “Go on in now and be refreshed.”
Chrissana walked in and the door closed behind her. It was a generous size room with a wash basin, vanity table, and a wardrobe. In the center, stood an old-fashioned, claw-foot tub filled with steaming water. She walked around the room like a skittish deer, peering behind the mirror of the vanity table, turning in a circle as she looked up at the ceiling that had paintings of flowers on it. There were no windows. The lighting was provided by several lit oil lamps posted at different points in the room. Her feet sank into the thick, white carpeting. While it felt good, she suddenly remembered how dirty they were, but when she looked behind her, she saw no tracks at all.
Despite how nice everything looked, she wasn’t about to just take her clothes off and relax in a bath in this strange place. She walked back over to the door and it opened, and she found the attendant standing there.
“Do you need something, Madam?”
“Uh,” Chrissana didn’t want to admit that she was becoming frightened and uneasy; however, she found it rather comical the way the girl kept saying maa-dam in her heavy accent. “Towels?”
“Everything you need is on the chair next to the tub,” she said with a giggle.
Chrissana turned around to see a stack of towels of every size folded on a chair by the tub. “Oh, I didn’t see them.”
“It’s all right,” the woman smiled. “No one will disturb you while you refresh yourself. There are clean clothes for you in the wardrobe. You can leave your pajamas on the floor. We will clean them and deliver them to you.”
“How do you know where I’ll be? I mean, I don’t even know where I’ll be.”
The girl grinned. “We’ll know where you’ll be.” She then reached in and closed the door.
Chrissana sighed. She quickly undressed and walked over to the tub. A quick touch revealed it was the perfect temperature. After easing in, she lay back for a few seconds and closed her eyes, allowing her thoughts to wander. She’d always been a shower person, but the bath felt really...refreshing. She looked down at the water to see that her dirty feet hadn’t left any residue in the water. The dirt on them slowly disappeared until they were completely clean, as were her hands.
On a stand nearby were antique-looking bottles with French names scrawled on them. She opened each one and poured a little of the contents out. The smells were intoxicating.
One was definitely shampoo, and she wasted no time in dunking her head down into the water and washing her hair. The second bottle was conditioner and it was as thick and moisturizing as her one back home. While she reclined in the tub, allowing the conditioner to soak in her hair, she grabbed the third bottle, which was liquid soap that smelled like honeysuckle. She washed herself with the soap then lay back against the smooth porcelain incline. Her mind fought to make sense of her ordeal. The lack of anything oneiric about her surroundings or the people she’d encountered was truly baffling. Everything appeared perfectly real; however, there were those little idiosyncrasies that made little sense—like the bouncer-looking guys at the front gate and the driverless carriages. She exhaled long and hard, seeing her breath cause ripples in the water.
Chrissana did a final dunk to rinse herself then stepped from the tub. There were enough towels on the chair to wrap her hair and dry herself. Afterward, she used the remaining bottle of oil and rubbed it through her hair, smoothing it back with her fingers to braid it into a ponytail. Hopefully, the cold air on her wet hair wouldn’t cause her to catch cold. The wardrobe had only a white long-sleeve sweater, a pair of jeans, and some beige UGGs. And everything fit as though she’d pick them out herself. On the top shelf, she noticed a fur hat, which she put on. This would solve her wet hair and cold air worries.
She bundled her used towels at the base of the tub and laid her pajamas on the chair. When she opened the door, her hostess was nowhere to be seen. The hall was quiet, so she walked out and made her way back toward the front. The girl stood outside, leaning against the side of the shop.
“Oh,” she greeted with a smile, straightening herself. “Has Madam been refreshed?”
“Yes, thank you,” Chrissana said.
The girl gave her a huge smile, her eyes narrowing into thin lines when she did so. “That’s great. You come again now.”
Chrissana walked out onto the street, once again making sure she looked both ways before crossing. Standing before the bakery, was the grouchy woman from earlier.
“So, you’re all cleaned up now.” the woman said, none the friendlier than before.
“Yes, I—”
“Go on in.” She sounded harried, like she’d been held up waiting for her.
The woman followed her inside, and Chrissana’s sights were immediately overwhelmed by a grandiose display of confections against every wall and corner of the place. Nothing was hidden behind glass cases, but out in the open on velvet-draped display tables. There were fruit tarts, cinnamon rolls, cakes, powdered-sugared biscuits, shortbread cookies, cream puffs, and chocolate eclairs. And that was just one side of the room.
People roamed about the store, carefully picking up items and eating them on the spot. Here, she was treated to the strange dress code in more detail. It reminded her of a Halloween party. One such spectacle was a girl in a 60s micro-mini and go-go boots conversing with a man dressed from the American colonial period wearing a powdered wig.
Another woman approached in a long dress and white c
ap. “Would you like something?” she asked.
“I’m sorry, but I didn’t bring any money,” Chrissana said, backing away slightly.
“Oh, you don’t need that here,” she said with a wave of her hand. “Take whatever you want.”
Chrissana reached for one of the tiny fruit tarts, taking a bite as the woman awaited her reaction. It was very delicious and she smiled with a bob of her head. When the woman turned away, she cautiously helped herself to another.
Her uneasiness slowly faded away as she walked through the shop. She took a shortbread cookie and a cup of tea a man walked forward to hand her. He didn’t appear to work there as he wore a gambler suit and hat from the mid-1800s.
“How do, ma’am,” he said in a heavy Texan accent, tipping his hat. “Normally, I would have my hat off in the presence of a lady, but with all this deliciousness around here, I don’t want to get anything on it. Tom Trevors.”
“Chrissana Martin.”
“You here for a healin’, too?”
“I’m not sure.”
He drained his cup of tea and set it down on a small table behind him. “Funniest darn thing, but I just showed up here one day.”
“When was that?”
He stuffed his hands into his pants’ pockets. “Well, I don’t know, ma’am. It’s been so long, I’ve done forgot. I was playing cards, and the last thing I remembered was some chiseler gunning me in the chest. I guess he didn’t like the fact that for all his cheatin’, I still won the game.”
“Wait, you’re dead?”
“I’m ’fraid so, but I feel quite fine for a ghost.”
“Are you sure you’re dead?”
He reached back and scratched the back of his head. “Welp, I’m sure I got shot...with a rifle. That opened my chest up pretty good. I’d show you, but it wouldn’t be polite.”
Chrissana set her tea down onto the table next to his empty cup, holding her hand to her head. “They told me I’m not dead.”
“Well, ya aren’t. You’re what we call a kicker. You don’t have to be dead to be here for a healin’.”
Just then a commotion started up outside, causing people to run excitedly out of the shop. Chrissana walked over to the window and looked out, seeing a drove of people hurrying toward the town square.
“What’s going on?” she asked
The man walked over to join her. “The carriages have come from the spa up on the mountain. Better hurry if you want to get a good spot.”
“What?”
“There is a long wait because there are so many who need a healin’,” he said. “With it being Christmas time, we get more folks than usual.”
Chrissana walked over to the door then looked back at him. “Aren’t you coming?”
“Oh, I got mine, ma’am,” Tom said. “I just like to hang around here until I decide to go and do something else.” He tipped his hat to her. “Go on now and get your spot.”
Out on the street was an excitement Chrissana had never experienced. One would have thought they were throwing money out of those carriages the way people were running. Fortunately, they weren’t out of control by being pushy. There was order. Others stopped to help those along who couldn’t walk fast, like some of the elderly. She even saw people on crutches and in wheelchairs.
By the time she’d made it to the square, there were ten green carriages that looked to hold at least twenty to thirty people each. There easily had to be over a thousand people in the square. She watched one lady in a wheelchair get hoisted up by several large men inside a carriage. The doorway didn’t look anywhere wide enough, but she went in nonetheless. It had happened so quickly that she couldn’t make sense of it.
“Come on,” a small girl chided her. “Don’t you want to be healed?”
Regardless of the order and the helping, Chrissana backed away from the child. Crowds made her uneasy and being stuffed in a carriage with a bunch of people was far from being comfortable. This, and the fact that she had no idea what this healing was about and having spoken with a man who admitted he was dead, proved too much for her. She needed to get more answers before just running off with the crowd.
The child stood and watched her for a few seconds until a man lifted her up on his shoulders and trotted through the crowd with her. Miraculously, they made it through the sea of bodies to board one of the carriages. Chrissana soon realized that although there was a throng, not everyone was trying to board the carriages. They appeared to be either offering direct assistance or moral support to the travelers.
Chrissana kept backing away until she bumped into someone. She turned to see a very tall man dressed in an ivory, fur-trimmed, mantle cloak and hat. Thick, chestnut hair fell to his shoulders in waves, his piercing blue eyes twinkling with amusement.
“It appears you’re going the wrong way, my dear,” he said. “Don’t you want to go to the spa?”
Chrissana was so captivated by him, it took her several seconds before she could answer. “They say I do.” Then she rambled. “I-I mean, I hadn’t intended to, but I am dreaming, and I think there are others there who want to go more than I do.” She huffed to get her sentence straight. “I just think those people need a healing more than me.”
“Always thinking of others before yourself, are we, Chrissana?”
She stepped back, her eyes narrowing. “How do you know my name?”
He smiled. “Because you look like a Chrissana.”
“How’s that?”
His brows bounced and a knowing smile widened on his face.
Damn, if he isn’t as charming as he is handsome.
She turned to see if others had been observing them. Luckily, the crowds were still busy boarding the carriages.
“Where is this spa?” she asked.
“Up there.”
She followed the direction his head had tilted to notice a large sprawling building of powder blue that almost matched the color of the sky, and the tops of its numerous turrets looked sharp as needles.
“What happens there?” she asked.
“Whatever a soul or spirit needs to happen,” he said. “Each therapy is quite individualistic and tailored to the person.”
“Is that good or bad?”
He laughed. “Would you not think it’s a good thing?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve never been here before.”
“Neither have they,” he said. “Better hurry. The carriages are about to pull off.”
She looked back to see the doors closing and people who obviously weren’t going wandering back toward the streets lined with shops.
“That’s all right,” Chrissana said, turning her attention back to him. “I’ll wait this one out. I’d like to know a little more about the place before I make my decision.”
The man chuckled silently. “Usually a wise course of action, but sometimes one has to make quick decisions without having all the facts, Chrissana. Time, at the moment, isn’t on your side. One such as you shouldn’t linger too long in this place without proper treatment.”
“Well, those other people seem content to wait.”
“That’s because they live here,” he said, then bent down to her and whispered, “and they’re no longer alive.”
“Something I thought I would be,” she admitted. “I really don’t know what I’m doing here.”
“This place finds those in need of healing. That’s why you found yourself here. Obviously, your life isn’t yet complete.”
Chrissana looked down at the ground. “Is this some sort of purgatory?”
The man’s voice lowered to become more soothing. “Walk with me, Chrissana.”
He started off in the opposite direction of the town with Chrissana hurrying to catch up with him. There were no more shops as the area became more residential and quiet with townhomes lining both sides of the street.
“When you sleep,” he began, his voice rising as though he were addressing an audience, “your soul wanders all over the place. Do you
notice that, many times when you dream, you often don’t become aware of the fact until the very end of it?”
“Yes.”
“One does far more in dreams than they can consciously account for. In times like these, they find themselves in the spirit realms—like this one. Some people manage to remember and others wake up not remembering anything at all.”
“So are you saying that these spirit realms can be places where both living and dead can mingle?”
“Yes. We also get people who are in comas, where they’re not entirely dead but in between. That is where you are.”
“You said this place found me.”
“Yes, you were called.”
“Who called me?”
“I called you.”
Chrissana stopped. “You did?”
“Part of my obligation here is that I seek out certain souls who are in need of assistance. Especially in dire circumstances such as one seeking to end their own life.”
He had said the end part rather sternly, and Chrissana turned her head away, stung by his tone.
“Maybe I made a mistake,” she said softly.
“Maybe?” He snorted.
Chrissana tilted her head up, mentally pressing her tears away from her eyes. “I’m not sorry that I don’t feel much like living at the moment. I do admit that spending an eternity in this place doesn’t sound so bad.”
The man began walking again. “So you think an eternity here would suit you?”
Chrissana fell in with him. “It’s beautiful and Christmassy. My mother would have loved this place.”
“Christmas is our favorite holiday, here, also,” he said. “It does keep everyone’s spirits up.”
Chrissana laughed. “It keeps the spirits’ spirits up.”
