The Curse of Time

by Andreea Pryde

  Finally getting in front of the door, I wished only for silence. And it really was quiet; there was no music, no television, not a sound of Jared’s alcohol-induced snoring; nothing at all.

  Opening the door, I stepped into the empty apartment. To my surprise, he was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he left to look for a job; perhaps our life was finally returning to normal. On my way to the bedroom, I abandoned my clothes wherever I could. Finally giving up on my underwear, I slipped between the soft sheets before sleep snatched me before I could even count to ten.

  I could hear the pocket-watch’s ticking again. There was something relaxing about that symmetric sound. My head rested in someone’s lap; they caressed my hair, humming a lullaby. It didn’t sound familiar, but it felt so pleasant. I opened my eyes and saw stars. Millions and millions of stars shone around us. The lullaby stopped, but in exchange, that person talked to me softly.

  “Don’t be scared; the disappointment will leave, and love will return to you soon. Rest now, the way ahead is far from easy. I will need your help, but you’re not ready yet. Rest now, but time goes fast without looking back. I know you don’t believe now, but we need you. Soon, you will meet again the one that I was once. Tell her to go straight to Lady Jubilee; she knows what needs to be done. Scarlett, are you listening?”

  “Yes,” I answered sleepily.

  “You need to hear a story from her. I know the pages are missing, but she doesn’t, because that happened a good while after she was gone. So many sleepless nights, so much wasted energy to gather all the information in that book, and even so. . .. It breaks my heart knowing he is still alive, and it’s all my fault.”

  “Who?”

  “You will find out at some point. If I tell you now, everything shall be destroyed. You will have to believe, Scarlett. Without your faith, all hope will be lost. Maybe if I were stronger, I could’ve stopped him, and saved everyone, but it’s too late for me. Open your eyes, and you’ll see,” her voice was calm, but there was an urgency in the way she talked.

  “I . . . I’ll try.”

  “Good. Now sleep tight. I missed you so much all these years, my dear friend.”

  It was almost dark when I opened my eyes. I felt so at peace as I hadn’t been in a long time. My stomach was asking for its rights, and most certainly, I needed a bath, probably smelling like the museum’s exhibits. I got dressed quickly and headed for the small kitchen, but stopped in my path, instead, when I opened the bedroom’s sliding door. It was quiet, and it was dark. I was still home alone. I was going to wait a little while longer before I called Jared, though maybe I shouldn't even do it. After all, he hadn’t called me when I missed a whole night from home. Bet he didn’t even notice, much less worry. But I did notice and couldn’t help it. I got my phone and called him three times; each time it rang once then I got redirected to the voice mail. He rejected my calls. I tried to call him again a few minutes later, but he turned it off. There was nothing to be worried about. No; more likely, there was no one to be concerned about.

  After another twenty long minutes, Jared entered through the door, and he had company. A step behind him, a young woman; blonde, tall, and slim–the type who could effortlessly make a modelling career, but through some unconventional methods. Neither of them spared me a glance. Got in fast, grabbed a suitcase prepared beforehand, and left without looking back. He pushed the keys through the mail slot, acting like I wasn’t even there. Probably that was the plan; get in, grab the stuff, and get out while I wasn’t home. And now I was alone, again, trying to wrap my head around what just happened.

  Somehow, it shouldn't surprise me. For anyone else, it was as clear as daylight the direction in which our relationship had been headed for some time, I guess I was the only one who had my hopes up. But even so, I felt something strange, as if for the first time in forever, I could breathe. He was gone, and I wasn’t sorry. Maybe laughing wasn’t the most natural reaction, but that’s what I did; I laughed. A burst of hysterical laughter which gradually turned into crying. The irony? I wasn’t crying over him, but for all the time I wasted waiting for him to get back to normal.

  What an idiot I’ve been.

  But now it was over, and I felt free. Despite all the beautiful years spent together, in the end, he turned out to be nothing but a big disappointment, but it was okay. No one could ever take away all the beautiful memories, and the bad ones I could bury them in a hidden corner of my mind, just like every time before.

  Chapter 4

  Two months came and passed, a period which I spent mostly at the museum. I had more than enough work to do, so little to no time left to worry about anything else. I even made a habit of coming here on Mondays, when it was closed and spend the day reading in the library. Curiously, I became more and more interested in the book’s topics.

  Time rolled, and it was Monday again. I really didn't want to stay home, but I had so much to do – shopping, cleaning, maybe even some cooking since I was already tired of the food from the fast-food from across the street. Take all that and add an emergency beauty salon visit. My hair was all over the place, and my hands, couldn’t even look at them. Perhaps all the chemicals I was working with protected the exhibits, but my nails couldn’t stand them very much, despite wearing protective gloves.

  Everything took less time than expected. The cleaning was a breeze since there was no one around to make a mess in the first place. Shopping; a real pleasure, buying only the things I like, after all, I didn’t need to share them with anyone. At the beauty salon, things got a bit complicated. My hair was in such a condition that it needed a stronger, time consuming, and pricier treatment, but it was alright. I had all the time in the world, and the money was all mine.

  Feeling relaxed, beautiful, and very tired, I finally got home, and unpacking the groceries, put them each into their place. In a very hidden corner, in a cupboard, I found concealed, a sparkling wine bottle, which I’d completely forgotten about. I got it a while ago for a special occasion, but today was as good of a time as any other day. Today marked two months since Jared vanished from my life, and I felt better than ever. Popping it open, I poured a glass while I prepared dinner, and another two after, but maybe the last one was a bit too much. I wasn’t used to drinking alcohol, but because of the sweet, subtle aroma, I couldn’t tell when it became too much; that is, until I got up from my chair.

  Did I spin, or was it the room?

  I set my destination for the bed.

  The early evening hour didn’t matter anymore thanks to my special bottle. Leaning against furniture and walls, I managed to reach the bedroom and the bed, safely. I had only one wish left; to not feel sick the next day at work. I fell asleep almost instantly. Who needs sleeping pills when you have wine for dinner?

  I was floating again among the stars. There was something about that place, something soothing, but why was I alone? The last time there was another person with me.

  “Is anyone here?” I shouted.

  “I’m here, Scarlett. Don’t be afraid,” a calm voice answered, but my eyes couldn’t find her.

  “Where are you? I can’t see you.”

  “Listen for the watch’s ticking, that’s how you’ll find me.”

  Closing my eyes, I listened. At first, I couldn’t hear a thing, but little by little, the sound became stronger until it appeared as if it came from next to me. And it was. The young woman, with the pocket watch tied around her right forearm, was standing right by my side, watching me with a warm smile.

  I looked at her, curious.

  What detailed dreams I had, though I couldn’t remember ever being so aware in a dream before. I could see even the smallest details of the cinnamon-coloured dress she was wearing. The tailoring seemed to belong to the 19th century, and the material looked fairly expensive.

  The short-sleeved design made me think about the evening dresses worn at various social events, but her hair, like cappuccino foam, was only partially tied with a bow, the same colour as the dress
, on top of the head, the rest of it falling down her shoulders. A hairstyle way too simple and childish for someone her age. Her white skin looked as if it never saw the sun, and the big, grey eyes were shadowed by sadness. She was gorgeous. No; she was outstanding, but dreaming her made me obsessed with the period she was coming from?

  “What is this place? Where are we?” I asked, looking around at the countless stars.

  “We are outside Time, inside Chronos’s heart.

  “What strange dreams I have,” I said laughing.

  “You still don’t believe,” she added, saddened.

  “Believe in what?”

  “In what happens around you, but you refuse to open your eyes.”

  “Nothing is going on around me.” I rolled my eyes.

  “Then what do you call this? What do you call this place?” She spread her arms and turned once, her dress fluttering around her legs. “What do you call our meeting?” she asked, nervous.

  “A dream.”

  “But it’s not a dream, Scarlett. What do you need to believe?” she asked, disappointed.

  “Proof. How can I believe in something I can’t see?”

  “How strange,” she puffed, leaving out a bitter laugh. “You never struck me as a naive person. You want proof? Very well. Tomorrow, Laura will guide around the museum a group of children. At one point, a boy, the smallest one in the group, will ask her to exemplify a quick chant. I want you to look for the aura that will appear around her. You can ask her about it later on. She will be more than happy to share her secret with you.”

  “What makes you so sure? If it’s a secret, wouldn’t it be more logical for her to keep it to herself?”

  “Scarlett,” she talked like to a stubborn child. “She knows you are special, and she wants to help you, she just doesn’t know how to approach you about this.”

  “Look, I know she looks like a witch most of the time, but that doesn’t mean she is one.”

  She lingered for a while after hearing my answer.

  “If this is not enough evidence for you, then there’s one more thing. In the library, on the fourth shelf of the oldest bookshelf, is a secret compartment. You will find a letter which is addressed to you, but you can’t read it yet.”

  “Let’s say, for the love of this conversation, that I’ll find the letter, though I highly doubt it since all this is just a dream. Why shouldn’t I read it since it’s mine?”

  “Because first, you need to meet the person who wrote it,” she said calmly.

  “But why is that so important?” I asked, losing my patience.

  “Because it will remain the only person we can rely on when everyone else turns their back on us,” she continued.

  “Us?” I asked distrustfully, raising an eyebrow.

  “Us.”

  “Okay, I’m really starting to think it was a bad idea to drink that wine.”

  Suddenly, an ear-piercing alarm began to ring louder and louder, causing me an intense headache.

  “What the hell is this?” I shouted, covering my ears with the palms of my hands.

  “Time for you to go.”

  The young woman came closer to me and put her right hand on my head. Only then I noticed. The watch’s chain, which I thought wrapped around her forearm, came out from under her skin, making them one.

  “Wait!” I yelled. “You never told me who you are!”

  “But you already know that, Scarlett.”

  With her arm still extended at the level of my head, she swiftly moved away, and I woke up shouting her name.

  “Leah!”

  Chapter 5

  I felt like someone had run me over with a truck filled with massive wood furniture.

  That’s it! Whatever’s left in the wine bottle from last night will go straight down the drain, that’s if I manage to get out of bed without ruining the carpet.

  “Oh, my head . . .” Though not undeserved. “I don’t want to work today.”

  I covered my face with a pillow, trying to hide from the cruel reality in which I had to abandon my comfortable bed and get ready to face the outside world.

  “Come on, Scarlett, you can do this,” I tried to encourage myself. “Just go in the workshop and hide between books. You don’t have to talk to anybody or pay them any attention. You just have to move your feet. Ugh, why am I talking to myself?” I whined into the pillow.

  I must’ve used half the energy I had just to get out of bed and head to the bathroom. I, indeed, felt slightly better after a warmish shower, but the headache just didn’t leave me alone. The way to the museum appeared to be the longest in my life, even though, to get to my parents was an eight-hour long train ride.

  I managed to get in my workshop without bumping into anyone on the way, now I had to keep doing it for the rest of the day, and I was going to be fine. I let my head rest on the desk’s cold surface, but when I closed my eyes, Leah’s saddened face appeared in my mind out of nowhere.

  It’s just a dream, so cut the nonsense.

  And I was going to prove it to myself. There was no way I could stalk Laura to see if she was doing magic tricks for kids and look for God-knows-what aura around her; that was way too weird. But my presence in the library was something completely natural. I strolled all the way to the library, paying attention to any movement around me. I was in no mood for chatting.

  Finding the oldest bookshelf was far from a challenge since it clearly was the one from the 16th century, and the fourth shelf, obviously packed with books. I removed them carefully, and what did I see? There was nothing out of the ordinary. It was just a dream.

  Now, perhaps if I weren’t intoxicated from the night before, I would’ve noticed faster that the pattern on the back of said shelf, didn’t match the rest. The difference was tiny, challenging to see without proper lighting; but it was there.

  Nope, no way. There was no fricking way. I was just paranoid. There was no way my dream could be more than that. Those kind of things just didn’t exist. I removed the books from the next shelf. The two should’ve matched, and that would’ve been enough proof that my mind was playing a prank on me and everything was as usual as it should be, but they didn’t. I ended up clearing all the shelves, only to have a big surprise; all matched, except for the fourth one.

  “Alright, Scarlett. Keep calm. There surely is a perfectly plausible explanation for this.”

  Maybe at some point, it needed some repairs done, and this was where the difference came from. That sounded reasonable, but then why I wasn’t convinced? I needed to prove to myself that this was nothing but a regular bookshelf, without any secrets, and then go back to my work. Also, I had to stop talking out loud to myself.

  I had to think logically. If there was, indeed, a secret compartment, then inside, should be air. In which case, if I knocked in different spots, I should hear dissimilar noises. I tapped the back of the shelf on all its length; no difference. What made me try on a different one, I’ll never understand, but when the noises didn’t sound alike, I knocked a little bit harder. I was simultaneously tapping on both shelves, but no matter how much I tried, they didn’t match, and they were never going to.

  Behind the fake wooden panel was something I couldn’t know about; I shouldn’t know about. I tried to shove my nails by the false back, push it upward, downward, and sideways. Nothing; it was unmovable. And maybe it would’ve stayed that way if a little, bothered spider wouldn’t have come out from behind the panel, through a tiny hole in the bottom, left corner. Too small to fit my finger in it, but just about right for one of my hairpins. I pushed it in until it clicked, and when I pulled it out, the panel fell. Trapped in spider webs, an envelope with my name on it was waiting. I managed to extract it without causing a baby spider genocide. They looked cute when small enough to barely see them.

  I set the panel back in its place and quickly rearranged the books, sure, the order was different, but at least they were off of the floor. The letter, which was now in my pocket, gave me an extr
aordinary state of discomfort, or maybe it was mostly from the hangover, I couldn’t say for sure. The red-wax seal was intact, and my name was clearly written on the front of the envelope. I was tempted to open it, but then I remembered something else. If the letter was real, then Laura was actually a witch?

  I left the library behind, running. In my rush towards the museum’s main hall, I almost knocked poor Matteo off his feet. He got away unharmed, but some of the papers he held, fell on the floor.

  “Sorry, Matteo!” I shouted back, but I didn’t stop to help him. I had somewhere I had to be.

  Coincidently, or not, Laura did have a group of children today; scouts. I met them just as they entered the last room of the tour. I couldn’t bother them, but there was no real reason why I couldn’t follow them around.

  “This exhibition is called The Forest’s Nymphs,” she started talking to the eager group.

  This was the first time I saw Laura working, and it was clear she enjoyed what she was doing.

  “Were they real nymphs?” asked one of the boys.

  “No. They were not. They were humans; witches.”

  “Then why were they called nymphs?” asked another.

  “Because they helped as much as they could. At that time, people believed that all magic practitioners handled dark magic, that they were the devil’s pawns. So, whenever they met a white magic witch, they confused her for a nymph. In their minds, anyone who used magic to help another couldn’t be human, and that only the daughters of the forest had healing abilities.”

  “And how were they healing? By boiling potions out of toad eyes?” joked one of the mothers.

  “Yes, and no,” Laura answered, laughing. “They used in equal measure enchantments and potions, but not out of toad’s eyes, instead out of medicinal herbs.”

  “Do you know any spells?”

  “I know a few.”

  “Can you show us one?”

  At first, I couldn’t see who asked the last question but as the other boys moved, in front came a carroty-haired boy; the smallest one in the group.