by Nicole Lee
“Weird,” James said. “That was the dream I had. Ttrapped in a burning hotel.”
Rose tried to concentrate on her devious cooking, at first beginning to understand what was happening. It all seemed like white noise at first, mere static from a radio. Then it became clear what she was listening to. No, it can’t be. My ears need to be checked.
“What did the hotel look like?” Rose asked, turning around and facing the two.
“Which one of us are you asking?” James inquired.
“Both.”
“Mine was an extravagant one,” Melinda said. “Expensive wood and glass, tall beams holding up the bastions above, sort of like a set Hollywood used on a Jane Austen movie. No one was inside of it except me - it was awful. Not that I was going to die, but I was going to die alone. I‘m sounding like an emo girl, right?”
“I would have to agree with that,” James said with a laugh. “That was pretty much the way mine looked. If it weren’t on fire I would have given my left hand to live there, or even just visit for a week. It was a four star place for sure.”
The timer went off, signaling how the treats were done. Rose grabbed a hot pad and opened the oven door, reaching inside for the first pan.
“No offense,” James said, “but I want the cookies you didn’t mix weird herbs into.”
“Yeah,” Melinda agreed.
“I didn’t make them for us,” Rose reassured them, placing the decent, unsoiled sweets on the table. “Don’t worry, these are the right ones. Dig in.”
The two sat down and began eating, while Rose grabbed the enchanted ones and laid them on the counter. Now that they were cooked, each one had the tang of dried perfume mixed in with the syrupiness of thick honey. She feigned to keep busy by washing her hands and drying them off with the nearest towel, but all the while she was in deep thought about their simultaneous dream, though she would not admit to having had the same one as them. She wondered if the two had sleep walked as well, but were not confessing this to each other.
A memory came back where Alexis Harvey, her teacher and personal mentor, had educated her on the fact that a simultaneous dream was a sign of oncoming trouble.
The lesson had been a while ago, and Harvey‘s vast love of knowledge concerning everything magical was so extensive that Rose sometimes had problems keeping everything straight. Rose promised her that she would ask her about that as soon as possible. She hoped that her thinking a group of people possessing a duplicate incident while sleeping was an omen of bad luck had not been true, but something in her gut told her this was in fact a truthful remembrance of a lesson. It was a hard pill to swallow.
She looked over and found out that James had already finished off everything on his plate.
Rose gave James the uneaten cookies, the ones that she had prepared herself.
“I’m not trying to be hurtful,” he said. “But I thought I made it clear that I would sooner eat dirt than this.”
“I want you to give those three little love birds of yours over there these cookies,” Rose said, pointing to the cheerleaders.
He gazed over at them and then back at her. “Why? I thought you hated them.”
“I do,” she said with a nod. “But, you know what they say. Forgive thy enemies. Besides, it gives you an excuse to approach them.”
“Good point,” he said, grabbing the pan and making his way over to the trio with a devilish grin.
Melinda leaned over and whispered in her ear. “Did you give them food poisoning or something?”
“No,” she said.
“Excessive laxatives? Suppositories? Bird poop? Worst of all, asparagus?”
“None of the above. Something better. Trust me.”
She smiled when seeing Gina, Jessica, and Emma biting into the round baked goods, each of them staring upwards at James and appearing jovial, if not very grateful, to have been handed something from him, probably taking cruel pleasure in gaining something that they thought Rose and Melinda wanted but could not have.
The treats would give her enemies sneezing fits for the entire weekend. Rose was warned this was bad karma, but the girls had it coming.
5
Her instructor in witchcraft owned a bookstore downtown called The Realm of The Out of Print. Alexis was an avid reader of works that had been forgotten by the public, hence the title of the literary marketplace itself. The rent for the actual studio was cheap (a smart move, when taking into account how the idea of selling novels that had been forgotten was not on the economical side), but when one stepped foot inside the domain, it became obvious that Alexis had spent a lot of money in order to set up a certain atmosphere. It was a disguised retreat in a way, since many customers walked in wanting nothing more than a good evening read, but it was also known to be a place for practicing warlocks and apprentices of the magical arts from all over the world. It was a sanctuary for Rose. Harvey was one of the few individuals who understood her. She had once given her a few words which helped her survive more than one bad year as a teen:
“Always remember this, Rose. The qualities you have which makes you an outcast are the purest and strongest traits you can have.”
The store was located four blocks away from the school, so the trip was not a long one. Rose walked into the emporium and saw it was empty. Ms. Harvey was sitting behind her desk and cash register, flipping through a trilogy by John Dos Passos.
Alexis dressed in an eccentric manner, which caught the majority of Pine Lake’s civilians off guard when they saw her. Many chose to stay away due to her strange pick of apparel, even though all of her students adored her for the very same reason some may have rebuked her for. Amulets, crystals, medieval silver chains adorned to the fabric of her brown dress, a few rubies in her hair, and enough jewels, charms, ornaments, other necklaces, and rings of all hues and types were part of her daily garb.
There were a few bright gauntlets beneath her bracelets, and when Rose asked her about the androgynous nature of the wear, Alexis said it represented the gods and goddesses. Harvey had grown used to the obvious insults concerning which clothes she was the owner of, with people referring to her as homeless, a panhandling palm reading psychic, an insane asylum escapee, a schizophrenic on the verges of civilization who commiserates with the pariahs, and of course a hippie, the only term besides witch that, assuming the connotations were correct, she did not mind.
She could handle any accusation and spring back with an equal response, and while she would tolerate none of them without at least getting in one reaction, there was one criticism she would not endure without screaming. The term New Age witch was a label she would have very little of.
“How are you doing today, Rose?”
“Good. How are you?”
“Fine. Business is slow.”
“Do you think this generation is one plagued with illiteracy?”
“I don’t think so, I know it.” She said these words with a chuckle, before setting her dusty hardback down and standing up. “All right, here’s a pop quiz.”
“Oh no,” Rose said with a groan, laying her backpack down on a collection of old Encyclopedia’s, taking in a deep breath and sitting down on a stool which was within reach.
“Yes, it is on, my young lady. How many full moons are in a year?”
“Thirteen,” Rose said.
“And what does each one signify?”
“For modern day witches, which we aren’t, it marks the times they will hold an esbat. This practice is for Wiccans. We’re old school in the pre-Gardnerian sense.”
“Very good!” Alexis said with a beam. “You make me proud, because you remind me of myself when I was your age!”
The two moved closer to the front. There was a small ivory coffee table in which sat a hardback book on monsters in horror cinema dating back to the nineteen twenty’s. Rose sat down and began curiously leafing through its grimy pages, its cover having the feel of discarded sandpaper.
“I bought a mocha machine if you’re intere
sted in having a cup,” Alexis said, making her way to the reverse room. Rose agreed while gaping at pictures.
When the coffee was served, she took a sip and reveled in the hot, rich and velvety textured flavor. Alexis sat down across from Rose.
“What’s wrong?” Alexis asked, putting her hand over Rose’s.
“A few weird things have been happening.”
“I never said life for a practitioner would be normal.”
“Right,” she said. “And I respect that. Yet this is a thousand times stranger. I don’t even know where to start.”
“You know you can tell me anything, Rose.”
“Me and two of my friends at the High School have had the same dream on the same night.”
A look of sadness overcame Alexis, and for a second she turned her head away, uncomfortable at what had just been revealed, as if it were somehow a shameful secret one should keep to themselves. Then she gazed back in her direction again.
“What does it mean?” Rose asked, waiting for some sort of negative news to be shared, trying to prepare herself for the worst.
“It’s a fluke,” Alexis said.
“What do you mean?”
“Listen, I think a simultaneous dream amongst friends can be a good sign, even if most everything I’ve read about them says it a bad one.”
“What?”
“Oh dear, I shouldn’t have revealed that. Just take my word that I think it is going to be all right. There’s also a chance it could be a sign that the pals you have in class are actual soul mates. Is one of them a boy?”
“Yes,” Rose said. “James.”
“Is he cute?” Alexis asked this with an evil eye.
“Ew. Not going to happen. Getting back to the topic, you once said what happened to me could be a bad omen, but what of?”
“There have been reports of experiences such as yours being a premonition marking the forthcoming return of an unwelcome presence, whatever that may be. Ninety nine percent of the time, the details of the dream are irrelevant; a nightmare that seven people have of a flying pitcher of iced tea does not prophesize packs of Red Rose enslaving people, though it could translate into a warning that someone or something undesirable is going to arrive.”
Rose looked incredulous when hearing her description of the dream.
Alexis shrugged. “That’s what happened to me, dear. It could be nothing.”
“Good to know,” Rose said, starting to feel relieved, but nowhere near close to being entirely better.
“Just be extra cautious in whatever you choose to do or wherever you go,” Alexis warned. “Keep your eyes opened at all times.”
“There’s something else that happened.”
A pause lingered in the air between them for a few long seconds, and Rose felt hesitant. She had spent most of her life concealing her identity from everyone - her father, friends, teachers, even her journal entries from time to time - and when the time came that she could spill her guts about the craft to the one person who would understand, her muscle memory still froze up, since repressing her own words was what she practiced the most.
“I sleep walked last night,” Rose said.
“Have I got the potion for you,” Alexis said with zeal, standing up and making her way around the counter, reaching under the wooden surface and pulling out a bottle with an ebon periwinkle liquid inside. She made the stroll back and gently put it down on top of the Hollywood ghouls book.
“What’s in it?” Rose asked, bringing the small object closer to her space of eyesight.
“A little bit of everything. Chamomile, hops, passion flower, valerian, poppy, kava, Catnip, and a dash of melatonin, which I stole from a surfer. If that does not stop you from sleep walking, I don’t know what will.”
“What do I owe you?”
“Nothing,” she said. “It’s on the house. Just get back with me on how it made you feel. Trust in the potion. Here’s a rule though, please don’t drive until forty eight hours after having consumed it; while it won’t feel intoxicating, it does render you incapable of operating heavy machinery.”
“Thank you so much,” Rose said, and it was then they hugged.
“Before I go, there’s something else I should tell you. I kind of cursed three girls at my school today.”
Alexis gave an expression of utter horror.
“It was just a sneezing fit on each one of them, to last through the weekend.”
“You know as well as I do it was bad energy to place upon yourself,” Alexis said with a sigh. “Yet I must say sneezing is not the worst thing to wish on someone your age. Perhaps the universe will pay you back with a case of the common cold, or a bout of nasty sniffles. Just don’t be surprised when it happens, and don’t do something like that again without consulting me first.”
“Sure thing,” Rose said, heading for the door.
On her exit from the Realm of The Out of Print, she stopped to put the anti sleep walking potion into her pocket to ensure that it would be safe.
After looking both ways to cross the street, she saw a black shape located in the distant park. Near an empty bus stop and behind a metal fence, the man dressed in black had his hood slung over his head. His features were encased in a circle of shadows.
Yet it was not his attire which alarmed her. Rather, it was the way he stood still, like one in a series of widely known snapshots taken during WWII of an executioner in a firing squad, standing solitary in front of a war ravaged terrain.
She knew he was looking directly at her. Rose decided to go home quickly.
6
Rose was not sure if the potion that Alexis had administered would even help her begin to sleep, let alone cure her late night wanderings, but at the moment it was her only choice.
Going to bed that night, Rose had an uncanny feeling that someone was watching her. This was not an uncommon experience, but after the situation today with the strange man gazing at her from a mile in the opposite direction, her terror towards having a stalker was something she could not shake. Still, she tried her best to get the notion off her mind, making her bed and looking out her window once every five seconds to remind herself that no one was there.
Staring at her lit up and comfortable bedroom, she decided to do a bit of cleaning. She put in a CD and let the heavy harmonies wash over her.
Rose began to organize her closet until she felt something brush against the back of her heel. Deeming it to be nothing more than the edge of a blanket hanging from her bed, she continued rearranging supplies near her wardrobe, until she felt whatever was against her foot begin to move.
Turning around, she saw a cat. The feline was so black that it could have camouflaged itself with any patch of soil after dusk.
“Shoo,” she said in a firm voice.
The animal turned its head sideways, licking its lips for a second, as if the creature was not even aware that there was a human near bye, and then walked to the wall behind it, scaling the barrier with the ease of a veteran rock climber making their way up an amateur’s peak. The cat leapt through the window and landed on a branch of the tree rocking with the air stream outside.
She shut the window and locked the hinges, taking in a deep breath.
Trying to keep the event of the household pet escaping into her private space out of her mind, she decided that it was now or never to drink the infusion.
Not entirely confident in the potion’s ability to fix anything, she had given herself a heaping bundle of money. The currency consisted of her savings through out the previous week. It came from saving whatever lunch money she had from her father, choosing not to buy any of the processed food served in the cafeteria. It was a back up plan if an emergency happened and she was stranded somewhere upon opening her eyes. She also had a miniature yet effective bottle of pepper spray connected to her house keys in her pocket. It was odd going to bed fully dressed, yet it was necessary.
Pulling the potion out of her backpack, she took a sip of the drink to make sur
e it was palatable. It had a slight indication of mint, and discovered that its flavors were close to a soda that had lost its carbonation. No longer fearing what taste it could have, she downed it in one gulp.
Rose lied on her bed and waited. Even within a minute of having consumed the brew, she felt her eyelids becoming heavier. She pulled the covers up to her chin and stared at the ceiling, letting the music in the stereo go, hoping the melodies would soothe her to sleep.
In seventeen minutes she was no longer awake. In the dream she was moving through a moss sheltered labyrinth, and her mother was screaming her name out, attempting to find her so as to kill her.
She breathed. Within seconds after coming to, it was clear that the liquid remedy had not done its trick.
Groaning, yawning, and stretching out, she rubbed her eyes and sat up, trying to adjust her vision so as to take in her surroundings. Rose was lying in the middle of a clearing. The meadow was greener than most photographs of Ireland she had viewed. A multitude of pine trees encircled her, their twigs blocking the bright sun from scorching the blades of grass.
Standing up within the dark covered part of land she had been sprawled out upon, a dirt path was visible within her peripheral vision, one leading into an overgrowth of plant life and then a mountain.
Rose had not thought of bringing a cell-phone with her, and now she was beginning to regret it.
Turning around, she saw another natural lane that lead into a much more mysterious looking setting, but something told her that at least it would not be a dead end, or put her in front of a monstrous crest. She decided to follow it, knowing well that this could be a decision leading to an unfortunate outcome, but that was her option.
After strolling through the woods, swatting aside insect life which flew at her, a glimmer of hope arose when she saw a telephone booth in the distance.
She sprinted towards it, leaping over a fallen log and skirting through a concourse covered in pine needles and a few spare brown leaves, and once she was in front of the payphone, she was in the parking lot of a gas station.
