by MJ Prince
There are times when I’m standing in a room full of people and still feel alone, like if I scream at the top of my lungs, no one would even hear me. The thought is a depressing one and maybe a tad melodramatic, but it's true.
Feeling something like defeat wash over me, I fling open the flimsy trailer door and step inside. Thankfully, my latest foster mother, Janice, is out. Probably getting trashed as usual, using the money that she’s meant to be spending on food and supplies for me, no doubt. I remind myself that it doesn’t matter—I’ll be out of here in less than a year, then I’ll be on my own. The thought is a scary one, but not scary enough to want to stick around here for longer than I have to.
The trailer is a mess, as usual. Dirty dishes are piled up in the sink and the place reeks like alcohol and tobacco. Normally, I’d get to tidying up, I’m the only one who ever does. But tonight, I’m exhausted. The eight hour round trip to Rockford Cape and the five hour shift at Rodeo Ricky’s, has left me shattered.
Flopping down on my cramped bed, I don’t even bother to change out of my jeans and sweater, as I squeeze my eyes shut in an attempt to shut out my surroundings. It’s the first day of my senior year tomorrow, and it’s nearly midnight, so I need to get some sleep. But despite feeling tired, sleep seems out of reach tonight. Sighing, I get up and pull out a small metal tin from the drawer beside the bed.
The trailer is dark, the only light coming from the silvery light of the moon streaming in through the single window. Looking up at the lone silhouette against the sky, I feel drawn to it somehow.
Feeling the invisible tug, I step back out into the night, walking aimlessly until I find myself at the abandoned playground that separates the trailer park from the nearby woods. I sit down on one of the rusted swings and it creaks in response. I open the battered metal tin that I’m clutching. I have very few personal belongings, everything in my life is disposable. Everything apart from the contents of this tin.
I run my fingertips over the tattered photographs—my mom smiling widely at the camera. It’s almost like looking into a mirror.
A strip of photo booth shots from the booth at the amusement park back in Rockford Cape. Another photograph of a six year old me walking along the beach, the amusement park lights in the background, as my mom trails behind.
Then there are the drawings—it isn’t just my mom’s looks that I’ve inherited, it’s her talent, too. Every drop of artistic skill I have, comes from her. I’ve looked at these sketches countless times throughout the years, but no matter how many times I’ve seen them, they’re just as beautiful each time.
The way she captured the loneliness of the night, the vivid colors amongst the darkness that most people never really notice. I look up at the night sky and see those same deep hues in the darkness—the midnight blues and deep purple blending into black, embellished by the blanket of starlight, which makes the scene look almost mystical.
I love the night—the stillness of it, the quiet. When I look up at the night sky, the vastness of it makes me believe, for just a moment, that there is so much more than this place, this life. I feel the quiet of the night quieting the discontent in my own life and I feel something like peace wash over me. Momentary as it is, it’s the only peace I have.
The faint whiff of rotting garbage floating on the night breeze from the nearby dump reminds of my reality, though, and that peace is swept away in an instant. There is nothing more than this life and this is my place in the world.
I suddenly get that feeling again that I’m being watched, and something like primal instinct is whispering through my veins, telling me to get my ass back indoors. I find myself looking into the woods beyond the playground. In the darkness, it’s difficult to see anything amongst the trees, but I can make something out in the shadows. A figure standing in the darkness. Watching. The night air is cool, but I’m suddenly sweating. I can hear the pounding of my own heartbeat in my ears.
Run. Run. Run.
My mind is screaming at me now, trying to shake me out of the trance.
“Jazmine.” The sound of my name startles me and I can’t help the scream that rips out of my mouth as I jump to my feet.
I look up to find the man from earlier that night standing in front of me. The man with those knowing eyes. I try to gather my senses, trying to make sense of the scene. My eyes dart back to the woods, but the figure is gone.
Was that figure in the forest this man? I can’t be sure, but I doubt it, there’s no way he could have made it here so quickly, and there was something distinctly different about that figure. Something I can’t sense in this man in front of me. Still, the mixture of fear and panic doesn’t recede. In fact, it only grows stronger, because what I’d seen before was only a shadow, perhaps only an imagined threat, but this man standing before me is very real.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I demand, backing away slowly.
If I turn and run, he can just grab me from behind. He may look like an old man, but something about him tells me that he doesn’t move like one.
I’m suddenly aware of how alone we are out here and my gaze darts around in panic, trying to find anyone or anything that might save me from a potentially bad situation, but there’s not a soul in sight and I’m completely alone in the darkness with this man.
“Wait—how do you even know my name?” I ask. He could have overheard it back at the diner, but I can’t be sure.
The man is calm in contrast to my own panicked state.
“Sit, please.” He gestures to the swing that I had just vacated. His voice is as gentle as it was back in the diner, but I’m not fooled.
“Listen, asshole, I don’t know how you found me here, how you know my name or what you want, but if you don’t get the hell away from me right this minute, I’m going to scream and call the cops.” I realize as I say those last words, that I didn’t bring my cell with me. Dammit.
Those strange grey eyes look unfazed by the threat, which only makes the sickening feeling in my gut worse.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” the man says. I don’t believe him.
“Bullshit.”
“So you just happen to follow me from the diner, find me out here alone in the middle of the night and expect me to believe that you have nothing but honorable intentions?” I scoff, although I don’t know why I’m still standing out here conversing with this total stranger, who is likely a rapist or deranged serial killer.
I decide that I need to distract him long enough to make an escape.
Something like sadness crosses the man’s face.
“That’s exactly what I expect you to believe—because it’s the truth. I’m not here to hurt you,” the man repeats. I still don’t want to believe him, because no sane person would, but there’s something about his expression that eases my panic a fraction.
“Then what do you want?” I demand, still continuing to inch away.
The man notices and lets out a long breath.
“My name is Magnus Evenstar,” he says.
“And I’m your grandfather.”
I don’t think I heard him right, because that can’t be true. I stare at him in disbelief.
“What?” I’ve stopped moving completely now. Shocked into stillness. Well, that’s not what I was expecting. At all.
He doesn’t say anything, letting me digest his words.
“You’re not—you’re not my grandfather. He’s dead,” I retort when I can speak again. Both of my mom’s parents died before I was born.
“Your father was my son,” the man replies.
I blink at him, taking in his appearance, that strange aura surrounding him, making my skin prickle.
I don’t miss the word was.
“He’s dead,” I say flatly. I had always acted like my father was dead, but hearing it confirmed … I don’t know how to feel.
“Yes, he died a few months ago.” There’s that sadness again.
“Let’s say I do believe you, which I don’t—what doe
s it have to do with me?” I say then, narrowing my eyes at the man claiming to be my grandfather.
“It has everything to do with you,” he replies.
“I want you to come with me.”
Indignation shoots through me. Who the hell does this guy think he is?
“Excuse me?” I sputter.
“I’m here to take you away from this.” He gestures to the trailer park in the distance.
“Listen, Magnus, I’m not going anywhere with you. You may think that I’m somehow related to you, but the only family that I had died when I was seven.
“My father was nothing but a deadbeat who wanted nothing to do with me or my mom, so I want nothing to do with him or his family.”
“That’s not true—your father did want you, but he …” He seems to be struggling to find the words or the right excuse. I don’t care.
“He couldn’t—it was forbidden”.
Forbidden? I have no idea what the hell that means, but I’m not about to stick around to find out.
“Whatever. Thanks for the offer, but I’m fine where I am,” I say, standing up a little straighter and meeting those grey eyes straight on.
It’s a mistake. I feel that whisper of premonition again, like whatever it was that lay in the shadows, just beyond my reach, is now washing over me, suffocating me. It feels like I’m standing at the doorway to something so terrifying, that if I let myself step through the threshold, nothing will ever be the same again.
“Oh, really? You’re fine with baring your body in order to survive? You’re fine with this?” He gestures to the trailer park again and anger spikes through me.
“Screw you, asshole. You don’t get to judge me or where I live. You don’t know what I’ve been through, you have no idea what I’ve had to do to look after myself. Firstly, you can’t just expect me to believe that you’re my long lost grandfather without any proof—”
He cuts me off then.
“You want proof? I have more than enough—DNA tests and your birth certificate amongst them. You think I would risk coming here for the wrong person? No. There is no mistaking who you are.”
I gape at him in shock. How the hell did he get hold of my DNA? And my birth certificate? I shake my head, sweeping those thoughts away. Never mind. It still doesn’t change anything.
“I don’t know what you’d risk doing—I don’t know you, remember? You’re a total stranger. Secondly, even if you think you have proof, you can’t just waltz in here after seventeen years of nothing—no phone calls, no visits, not even so much as a birthday card and expect me to what? Come and live with you? Sorry, but you’re about seventeen years too late. I’m not interested”.
The calm expression flares into something like anguish.
“Your father only found out about you shortly before his death. He kept it a secret at first, and I only found out after his death.”
I didn’t think I’d care, but the words feel like needles in my chest.
“Of course, he did. A dirty little secret. Let me guess, he didn’t want his perfect little family knowing about his little mistake?”
“There’s so much you don’t understand, Jazmine, so much you don’t know. But I’m here to show you. It’s taken me months to track you down and now that I’ve found you, I’m not leaving here without you”.
I shoot him an incredulous look.
“Which part of I’m not going with you, didn’t you understand? Let me say it again—I’m not going anywhere with you. So, you can leave now.” I fix one of my most merciless glares at him. The one that makes most people pale under its intensity. But my uncanny violet-silver eyes don’t seem to faze him at all.
“You have your father’s eyes,” he says wistfully, and I feel like scratching them out of my face.
I can’t stand here for a second longer. I need to get the hell away from here. Now.
“Fine. Don’t leave, stand there all night, if you want. I’ll leave and if you even think about following me, I’ll call the cops.” I make the empty threat again.
I turn my back on him, and start walking away, but his next words stop me dead in my tracks.
“You need to come with me, Jazmine. It’s not safe for you here anymore, Jazmine.”
Not safe? What the hell?
He’s lying, I tell myself. Why the hell should I believe a single word coming out of this guy’s mouth and even if he is telling the truth, it doesn’t change the fact that this man is still a stranger to me. A total stranger.
Leave. I order myself, but instead of getting the hell out of there, I open my mouth instead.
“What are you talking about?” My question is barely a whisper in the night, scared to hear the answer.
“You need to trust me”.
Everything happens so quickly then, but at the same time, it feels like everything is moving in slow motion.
The man grabs my arm and before the scream working its way up my throat can rip out of my mouth, I’m being blown away by what feels like a hurricane. Only it isn’t.
I can feel my eyes widen as the very air around me shifts, comes to life, crackling with fire and lightning. Then the atmosphere itself is opening. I’m out of my mind with fear, but through the haze of blind panic, I can see the endless expanse beyond the opening. The never-ending star-filled universe against a prism-like spectrum of colors. So many colors, so vivid, it’s difficult to look at.
I can feel myself thrashing and kicking, but it’s no use, this man is far stronger. He’s pushing me into the opening and I can do nothing but let myself fall through it.
I’m flying then, flying through what feels like time and space, which is crazy. But it’s difficult to keep a grip on reality when you’re flying through starlight and rainbows. I can feel myself screaming, but the sound is lost in the vast expanse. Traveling at what feels like lightning speed, I’m too paralyzed to be terrified. I’m beyond all thought and reason. After what feels like an eternity of falling, the universe stills and thankfully, I feel and see nothing.
3
I wake up to a crashing headache.
Am I hungover? No—I wasn’t drinking last night. I was working at the diner.
The memories come flooding back. The man with the knowing eyes at the diner. The same man showing up at the playground near my trailer in the middle of the night, telling me that he’s my grandfather—Magnus Evenstar, he’d called himself.
My eyes focus on my surroundings, but I can’t make sense of it. I’m lying on a bed—not my cramped bed in the trailer, which is foster home number ten, but a huge ass bed with silk sheets and pillows that feel like clouds. If that isn’t enough to convince me that I must be dreaming, the white marble floor and onyx walls definitely are. I jolt out of the bed and feel a wave of dizziness as I stand at the center of the palatial room. As I gape at the large onyx fireplace and the plush purple velvet furniture dotting the room, my confusion only grows.
Where the hell am I?
The scene outside the floor to ceiling French windows is of an impossibly blue sky, meeting an even bluer ocean. It’s paradise. Am I dead?
A loud knocking at the large double doors makes me jump out of my skin. I look down at my attire to make sure I’m decent, only to find myself clothed in grey silk pajamas—sure as hell not mine. I don’t own anything silk.
The man from the diner steps into the room.
“Where the hell am I?” I demand instantly, feeling both disoriented and furious.
“I told you I wanted you to come with me,” Magnus replies simply in the infuriatingly calm tone.
“So you kidnapped me?” I’m shouting now and I don’t give a shit who hears.
“Calm down, Jazmine. I can explain. We have a lot to talk about.”
I stare at him in disbelief, I can feel my panic rising, but I stamp down on it, forcing my breaths to slow. I’ll need to stay calm, if I’m going to have any chance of getting the hell out of here.
“Explain,” I say through gritted teeth, al
though I have no interest in knowing. I just want to keep him distracted while I look for an escape route.
Magnus takes a deep breath then, before walking over to look out of one of the large windows. I keep my eyes trained on him the whole time, in case he tries to grab me again.
“In the beginning, there was Eden—I’m sure you’re familiar with the story, like most humans are. But what humans do not know, is that Eden is real and it isn’t just a garden, it’s an entire world. It sits alongside Earth in another realm, running parallel alongside Earth, but never touching.
“Its inhabitants are the Seraph—the first beings to ever be created. We are mortal just like humans but unlike humans, we have the power to influence the elements, to control them. Every season, every raindrop, every gust of wind, the rising of the sun each morning and the painting of the night sky each night—it is by the hand of the Seraphs. Adam was once a Seraph until he fell from grace, was stripped of his powers and banished to Earth. From him, the human race was birthed. Humans know nothing of our true existence, though they have told tales about us throughout the ages, worshipped us through many guises. We are their gods, angels, higher beings, apparitions, deities. These are all just human interpretations of the Seraph.
“So, to answer your first question—you are in Eden, the royal city of Arcadia, to be precise.”
Oh god, I’ve been kidnapped by a lunatic from a cult, and now he’s going to kill me.
I don’t know what I was expecting him to say, but it sure as hell wasn’t this. All efforts at finding an exit fall away as my entire universe focuses on trying to process Magnus’s words.
“What the hell are you talking about? I can’t even …”
I’m shaking my head in utter shock and denial. My mind can’t even begin to fathom the meaning of his words. Because it’s crazy. Nonsense. It has to be.
“You don’t believe me,” Magnus says flatly.