Doctors and nurses had been in disarray; they were frightened that I had run off. “Someone call off the amber alert,” I heard a doctor say. He checked me out from head to toe and could find nothing wrong. “Where did you go?” he asked. I didn't know what to tell him. Somehow the truth felt like I was going mad. So I just shook my head.
He declined to press me further. I guess it was the look on my face. He left me to rest but it felt unnecessary to me. Somehow I felt stronger. I would go into foster care with confidence. Because I had discovered a secret power. I could escape my reality and perhaps I could change what happened here. The first spark of hope ignited in my spirit. It doesn't have to be this way. I thought.
Over the course of time. I realized that I could not control this gift. Nor did I know where I would be taken, how long I would stay there, and if I would be brought back to my time at all. It was wildly scary but I learned to accept it. I couldn't do anything else. I couldn't stop the time traveling even if I wanted too. Numerous tests had come back as inconclusive. The doctors wanted to say that I wander off and could never remember where or how I got back. They said it's due to my brain injury that I couldn't remember. Sort of like dementia.
I knew better though. Foster homes tried to take extra precaution with me. They put cameras in my room that never caught anything because the camera battery would just die. I was accused of tampering with it. I would be punished. I was switched from home to home. At one point I was held in a Juvenal correction facility for running away. Still I kept flying through time.
When I was eighteen I left foster care and moved to an apartment. I got a part time job as a waitress. Now I'm twenty-four, work two jobs, and still live in the same slump. I barely make the four hundred, nighty-five dollar rent. And night terrors had become a frequent thing, plaguing my life since the shooting. I toss and turn and always gasp awake, drenched in sweat and fear.
In my dreams there is always the same man. He seems to be young, maybe early twenties, his hair is dark and I have no doubt he is dreadfully handsome. Though, I've never seen his face. He is always just hidden in the shadows. I feel a strange attraction to him. I try to get close to him, but he always disappears. Then my senses are overcome with a pungent smell, and I see rotting corpses climbing out of the ground. They start chasing me and no matter how hard I try I can't get away. That's when I wake up.
I start looking around when I realize that the demoralizing feeling is only bitter loneliness, smothering me, weighing me down, and trapping me into my own self-depravity. I begin to cry. Then the questions start in my head and I am left with nothing but the word, why? Why is it that I lived and my parents died? Sometime after mid-night I had realized that time was my shell, it was all I had left, my safe haven. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't go back and fix things. My childish fantasy died. On this particular night, my cries were muffled by sharp raps at my door.
My heart jumped to my throat. Quickly I wiped my tears away and tossed on a robe to hide my revealing night gown. I opened the door but there was no one there. Instead there was a small envelope stuck to my door. I snatched it and closed my door. Upon ripping open the envelope, I found an old letter. It was somewhat torn and yellowed with age. I unfolded it to reveal a note written in fancy handwriting. It read:
I know what you can do. That feeling you feel, I feel it too.
I am called to you as you are called to me. I hide just in the shadows.
You might think me a dream, but I am real and I am just like you.
Be prepared, dream queen, I am coming for you.
Your dream thief,
Harcourt
I felt the hair on my arm prick up. How could anyone have known about my dreams? I had never mentioned my nightmares to anyone. Was someone watching me? How did they know where I lived? Maybe it was just some kid trying to get their kicks off by scaring people. Either way I tossed the note in the trash. The strangeness was not the best remedy for sleep. So I made a pot of tea and started flipping through the channels on my TV. I tried my best to just forget about it.
Then I suddenly felt a strange pulling sensation in my stomach. It got stronger with every passing minute until I could not ignore it. I passed out on my couch. I saw the stars whizzing by at unimaginable speeds. I didn't feel care free this time, I felt pulled, almost dragged through time. I flew faster and faster until it all disappeared and I fell.
CHAPTER 2
My heart plunged from my throat into my stomach, I fell fast and hard, landing into a wagon full of hay, its driver unsuspecting. I poked my head up from the hay and discovered lush country side. Quickly, I made a decision to startle the driver. “Excuse me sir, Excuse me!” I yelled over the squeaking of the wagon. The driver jumped and turned toward me in horror. He halted the horses so suddenly the wagon bumped into the rear horse.
The horses gave a nay of protest and bucked into the air. The wagon nearly tipped over. It was several moments before the old driver could regain control. The old driver smoothed out his gray hair and huffed with exhausted effort. “Bless my stars, young lady! he exclaimed. “How did you get into my wagon?” I apologized to him and after some consideration, I found that I really didn't know what to tell him. So I told the truth, “Um...I fell.”
He stared at me as if I had lost my mind. “You fell?” he questioned, confused. “Yes, this might seem like an odd question to you, but what year is it?” I asked. “1857,” he replied looking beguiled at me. “Oh right, and the date?” he shrugged, “It's near the end of winter.” I looked around more. I was surrounded by trees and farmland. There was a moo from a cow in the distance. The air was filled with the smell of manure.
“I see, and what's the next town?” I inquired at last. “Victoria. You're not from around here, are you?” he asked. “Not exactly. Mind if I continue to ride with you?” The old man scratched his head and then said, “I suppose not.” I jumped from the bales of hay and took a seat next to the old driver. The man snapped the reins on the horses, and they took off down the unforgiving terrain.
“That's an unusual garment you're wearing,” said the old driver. Until now I had forgotten that I was still in my night gown and robe. Between the fresh country side and the old man's lustful stare, I was feeling overwhelmed and had an urge to vomit. I didn't think he would take advantage of me, but I wasn't going to take the chance.
I quickly retied the robe over my night gown. A sudden heat rose to my cheeks and painted my face a bright red. I kept my focus on the beautiful scenery and my thoughts on what Victoria City would be like. But, his stare was still burning into me.
“What did you say your name was?” he asked obviously trying to turn the conversation around. “I didn't,” I replied turning to face him. My embarrassment was still apparent on my face, though I was trying to maintain both my confidence and dignity. “Ah, a tough one hey. I'm not always so generous so you should show some gratitude. If you plan to keep riding with me, you'll make small talk,” he demanded.
“My name is Lucy Teagan. I appreciate your generosity, sir, a woman can never be too careful though,” I answered. “Right you are. No need to worry, an old fool like me wouldn't take advantage of a woman. Especially a strange one like yourself. Ha ha, my name is Emit.”
Disgust played on my face. Especially a strange one like yourself. His words echoed in my mind. Was it a compliment or an insult? I couldn't decide. It didn't matter, as the wagon hit its eighteenth bump in the road. My butt began to ache from the uncomfortable bench I was sitting on, and my stomach was frantically turning over from the lack of fresh air.
“Do you come this way often?” I asked as it was now my turn to make conversation. “I do trade here and there, run a farm, I trap wild game to sell their furs. I tend to do an assortment of things and thus travel around here a lot,” I frowned. The taking of innocent animal life didn't sit well with me. Nevertheless, I said nothing about my dislike. “Is it going to take us very long to reach Victoria?” I asked. “In a hurry?�
�� he joked. In a hurry to get away from you. I thought. “Um...I'm curious.” I answered. “It won't take us too much longer. Maybe another seventeen or so hours.”
I groaned. My displeasure was written all over my face. “Are you displeased with my company?” he asked. “It’s not that, I just don't usually ride in a wagon drawn by horses. I'm afraid I'm getting a bit ill,” I complained. “Oh, then you're a poor one. You may lie down on the hay in the back if you think it would help,” he offered. “Maybe it would,” I said, glad for the chance to be free of him. I climbed from the hard bench back into the hay and settled in it. I heard his croaking old voice sing off key to a song I was not familiar with. That and the annoying rocking wagon were my only comforts, as I surrender to sleep.
Sometime later, I was woken up by Emit. “Welcome to Victoria!” he exclaimed holding out his hand to me. I stiffly got up and took his wrinkled hand. I jumped from the wagon. My eyes were instantly captivated by the romance of the city. It was truly magnificent with unspeakable beauty. I felt like I had stepped into a painting.
Huge stone buildings lined the cobble stone streets. The city was enchanting, with the catholic steeples in the distance and intricate sculptures etched into some of the buildings. There were businesses galore and despite all this, the city felt open and inviting.
I thanked Emit and bid him a farewell. I walked down the enchanting cobble stone streets, until I found a quaint little dress shop. I hadn't a penny on me but I decided it wouldn't be a bad idea if I bargained with the shop keeper.
I walked inside and heard the chime of a door bell as I stepped onto the wooden floor. I saw a woman doing some kind of needle work on the hem of a dress and a tailor that was measuring someone in the back of the shop. There was a young boy attending as the cashier.
“Excuse me. I said to him, “I'm looking for the owner of this shop.” The boy looked me up and then down. He had stringy red hair and couldn't have been more than fifteen. “Mr. Frederick does not like to be disturbed,” he stated flatly. “Aw, c'mon I'll make it worth the trouble.” I lightly touched the boy's arm for three seconds. His face became the color of tomatoes and reluctantly, he told me to wait here. The boy turned from the counter and raced toward the back of the shop. He disappeared inside a hidden room. The tailor stared at me as if he had heard every word.
Moments later, a tall, thin man, wearing a top hat appeared. The red haired cashier boy was trailing along beside him. They walked up to me and Mr. top hat introduced himself as, “Morgan Frederick, the shop owner.” I curtsied as best I could before introducing myself. “As you can see Mr. Frederick, I am in need of proper clothing attire. Unfortunately, I haven't a penny to my name. I was wondering if perhaps we could work something out. Maybe I could work for you to pay it back?” I offered.
“Ha ha, this isn't a charity. Your womanly charms may work on this young scrap, but I am not so easily persuaded,” he said. “Perhaps you miss understand. I wish to work for you in your shop. Perhaps I'll make enough to afford one of your dresses,” I explained. “Work?” he questioned as if he had never heard the word before. “What skills do you possess?” I thought about it for a moment and then answered. “Well, I can clean, I'm good with customers, and I can sew...somewhat.”
He laughed and waived me away. “I have a sewing lady, Robert here is good with bringing in customers, and cleaning is done thoroughly once a week on Sunday. Unless you have something else to offer me, I don't see where you are needed. Be gone.” Desperately, I grabbed his arm and laughed nervously. I did the best I could to play flirty, yet convincing that I had more skills than I let on.
“Aw, you're a tough one Mr. Frederick. What if I were to tell you that I can triple the amount of business you are currently receiving. Can Robert maintain the store and triple your business too?” I questioned. “How?” he asked. I smiled devilishly. Now that I had him hooked, I released my grip from his arm. “Well, I am a woman and I am smart. I know the style that woman want. They want something comfortable, stylish, and oh, so sexy. But not too sexy. I can make a prototype garment that will revolutionize fashion. And your shop will be the only shop where they can get it,” I explained brushing my fingers slightly against his cheek.
He grabbed my hand and kissed it. “Bring to me this prototype and the job is yours,” he said. I snatched my hand away. “Certainly, I will of course, need access to your sewing equipment and fabrics,” he looked wryly at me. “You don't have your own equipment?” I smiled and gave the I'm from out of town speech. He waived his hand toward the woman in the corner who was sewing on a hem. “This prototype better be as good as you say it is,” he said and walked wistfully away. I gave another slight curtsey, though he could see. Then waltz over toward the woman in the corner.
CHAPTER 3
Three weeks passed since Mr. Frederick hired me. He was very impressed with my slightly low cut, fake jeweled gown. It was ruffled around the collar with a folded pattern at the bottom, which raised the gown slightly above the ankle. According to the time period that was almost scandalous. The material was breathable and had a corset that was not made of hooks and wires. But of a series of strings that pulled the corset tight, but not too tight. The comfort factor was raised by a mere six percent.
The dress was comfortable, sexy, and stylish. Just as promised. By the end of the week we were overwhelmed by customers. My dress was in very high demand. So much so, that Mr. Frederick had to hire twelve new women to make the garment. Inadvertently, I didn't pay a cent for any of the old dresses I'd taken. On top of that, I was being paid a handsome wage. All seemed well, but I was beginning to feel tired and very weak. I didn't know how long I could keep making dresses for Mr. Frederick.
There was a ruckus by the shop. I peered out and saw two men shouting and pushing each other around in a drunken stupor. One was brawny with a thick mass of golden hair and a thin scar across his cheek. The other one was weakly and had thinning brown hair. The two men couldn't have been more opposite. Yet, even I could tell where they had come from. They were old employees of Stag Brewery. Most likely they were settling a dispute. Not on my watch, I thought. Their brawl was bad for business and with the number of new customers we had, someone could easily get hurt. Without thinking I rushed out of the shop and yelled at the offenders.
“Stop that incessant fighting!” I yelled. “Look lady, this ain't none of your business,” said the man with golden hair. His voice had a drunken drawl to it. “If I can't sell my dresses because of two drunken idiots, then it is my business,” I snapped. “Who the hell you think you are, talking to me like that?” he spat. Then snatched me up from the ground. I was slung over his back as if I were a sack of potatoes. The man with the thin hair ran off as I started screaming.
“Put me down! Stop! Help!” A few people stared but no one rushed to my aid. The man was apparently not as drunk as I thought. He threw me on the back of his horse. “I think I'd better teach you a lesson,” he said. I tried to jump off his horse but, his fist slammed into my jaw and then again in my stomach. There was enough force in his blow to knock the wind from my lungs. He jumped on the horse. My head was pounding as I slumped it against his back. The horse went into a full gallop. I quickly tightened my legs against the horse's thigh to avoid falling off.
We rode through the forest at deadly speed. I struggled to hold on as we rode. I grabbed the back of his shirt to leverage myself. It wasn't long before we were deep in the forest. A rushing sea surrounding us. The man stopped the horse abruptly and jumped off without warning. He grabbed my waist and threw me to the ground. “No, no!” I screamed. “It’s time to teach you a lesson,” he said as started unbuttoning his breeches.
“No, please!” I screamed. “Shut up bitch, you brought this on yourself when you started meddling in people's affairs,” he spat. His hot breath smelled strongly of whiskey. I screamed as loud as I could when he started tearing at my dress. I heard the fabric of my dress rip and a drafty wind blew over my firm breast. I felt his warm han
d cup my left breast. Tears fell down my cheeks and I continued to scream until my voice turned hoarse. I prayed for someone, anyone to come rescue me. Just as his hot mouth touched my chest, a gunshot echoed through into the stillness.
My attacker fell to his side. A bullet had penetrated his head and blood had splattered on my face and dress. I heard the breaking of sticks and nine different male voices. Before I knew it my attacker's body was lifted off me effortlessly and I was hoisted up. “You okay, pretty lady?” asked a man. His teeth were missing along with his hair. He wore a patch over his eye and an earring in his left ear.
“Pirates.” I whispered. Another man who was tall and muscular. His hair was semi-long and he was whether handsome, handed me a handkerchief. “You need not fear, my men will not harm you.” he said, his voice rather deep and husky. “Th-thank you.” I managed. “I realize that you've had quite the ordeal. My name is Captain Bretham. My ship is the Marionette,” he introduced. I introduced myself in return, them the Captain gave orders to his men, “Escort Miss Teagan to our ship.”
The men took me by the arm and escorted me away from the Captain. I followed them till we came upon a huge ship anchored by the bank. Across the body of the ship read: The Marionette, in bold red letters. “Pull down the bridge!” shouted the men. Suddenly a wooden bridge slowly descended toward us. When it landed on the ground I was escorted onto the ship. There was at least twenty men on the ship. All of them stared at me with hungry intend. I immediately felt uncomfortable, then I heard the captain come aboard. “At ease men!” he shouted and all the men lined up with their backs straight, standing like statues.
“Listen up, we've got a female guest on board. No one is to touch her. She is to be treated like all the other merchandise. She is going to fetch us a pretty penny at the whore house. And I don't want her injured. Understand?” He questioned. “Aye sir!” shouted the men. “Good now get to work you greasy good for nothings!” he shouted and his men scattered like dandelions in the wind.
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