The Lord of the Curtain

by Billy Phillips

  Tinker Bell spattered a dash of glittering, golden fairy dust on Caitlin. Unbound from the laws of gravity, the magic dust particles hovered around her like fine mist. They smelled like orange sherbet.

  Caitlin rubbed her tummy as her insides went topsy-turvy as if she’d embarked on a carnival ride. She became light-headed as she inhaled the fairy dust and it sparkled in her one eye. Then she began to feel bouncy, buoyant, and light on her feet. Gravity had lost some of its hold on her.

  Pan promptly led everyone away from the party area and down toward an empty, narrow strip of beach.

  “Why do we need both fairy dust and happy thoughts to fly?” Caitlin asked Tin Man as they trailed Pan. She was looking for some assurance that she’d make it safely off the ground.

  “In our world, everything is made up of thought,” Tin Man said. “Gravity, too. The gravitational thought-force is excessively self-centered. It only thinks to take. It does not impart. That’s why gravity draws in everything to itself. And that’s why it’s so difficult to escape its stingy pull.”

  “I get it,” Caitlin said. “So what’s with the fairy dust?”

  “Fairy dust is made up of trillions of unimaginably small, microscopic mirrors. A mirror reverses an image as it reflects light. For instance, if the Wicked Witch stands in front of a mirror and points west with her left arm, the left arm of the witch in the mirror points east—the reverse direction.”

  Caitlin grinned. “This is good. Keep going.”

  “The trillions of mirror particles that produce a small cloud of fairy dust achieve the same effect. They reverse gravity from a pulling force into a pushing force. They reflect a positive thought-field cloud around you. Combine that with your own waves of positive thoughts, and it amplifies the overall fairy-dust effect. Gravity now becomes your source of propulsion. Your thoughts and fairy dust become the fuel. And that is how you achieve flight.”

  That was, like, a totally wicked, freaking awesome elucidation of fairy dust aerodynamics!

  They trotted onto the beach and Peter offered his hand to Caitlin. “Okay, my lovely. Hang on to your knickers and take my hand. And if you try to kiss me even once during the flight, you’ll be flying solo.”

  Is he for real?

  “We’ll be flying on a low-altitude trajectory,” Peter explained, “so keep your noggin down—if you want to keep it, that is.”

  Caitlin smiled warmly. “Thank you, Peter.”

  “I’m proud of ya, son,” Gruncle Derek said.

  Peter shrugged off the comments, but Caitlin saw a tiny crack in his aloof veneer.

  “Tin Man and I will head to the Jolly Roger,” Gruncle Derek said. “We’ll meet up at the Twin Mountains. Now

  give your old fart of an uncle a hug, young Cait, and be careful.”

  Peter awkwardly kicked the sand about with his boot as Caitlin and Derek wrapped their arms around each other. After their embrace, Caitlin adjusted and tightened her eye patch.

  Peter offered Caitlin his hand again. “C’mon, lass—those big black birds will be here right quick.”

  She gingerly took hold of it. His hand was unexpectedly warm, at least for a living-dead ghoul.

  “Hold tight,” he said. “I know the route, so I’ll lead.”

  Caitlin gulped. She followed that with a hearty chug of night air to fill her lungs.

  She and Peter began trotting along the sand, tailwinds at their back.

  Before she could even exhale, they began to lift into the humid air.

  Oh my gosh! My feet are no longer touching ground!

  She was suddenly a good six feet in the air, moving straight ahead.

  The sensation was exhilarating. Her torso and legs suddenly swung back, leveling out behind her.

  Oh my gawd! I’m flying!

  This was better than flying in a dream.

  She extended her other arm like a wing and aligned her legs tight together, pointing her toes to optimize her aerodynamics.

  Her hair tossed wildly in the strong breeze. The rush of balmy air brushed against her face. Headwinds whistled in her ears.

  “Ready?” Peter shouted.

  “For what?”

  “This. . . .”

  Caitlin lost her breath as they shifted gears, accelerating quicker and climbing another five feet in the air. They reached their cruising altitude of 137 inches above the sandy coastline of Neverland.

  “Duck!” Peter screamed.

  Caitlin lowered her head as they dipped below a large flock of flapping seagulls.

  Bird droppings plopped on her head.

  Guano’d!

  She glanced ahead, marveling at the night sky and horizon.

  Uh-oh.

  She slammed her eyelid shut and dipped her head sideways as they flew through a mass of mosquitoes.

  Buuuzzzzzzzzzzzz!

  A billion bugs whizzed by her ears.

  She opened her eye and glanced ahead again, spitting a few bugs out of her mouth. Then she felt all her blood and bodily organs shift backward as another burst of acceleration kicked in.

  The coconut palms whipping by began to blur as the pair picked up speed. Then the trees vanished.

  She looked down. The beach had also vanished.

  She glanced back. They had left Neverland behind and were now heading out over the vast open sea.

  Oh no.

  Deep ocean waves churned below. An ocean of stars twinkled above.

  They flew through pockets of warm air.

  She suddenly realized they could be flying for hours with no land in sight . . . which meant no place to touch down if a panic attack struck. No safe place of security or comfort to hide in, to calm down and ride out the anxiety.

  How come the anxiety I feel over a hypothetical anxiety attack is just as bad as the panic attack itself?

  Peter Pan and Caitlin began to lose speed.

  “You got the collywobbles, Caitlin?” Peter shouted. “’Cuz we’re losing altitude—fast.”

  “Collywobbles?” It was hard to breathe and get the word out.

  “Unpleasant thoughts, the willies. ’Cuz if you do, and you believe those dreadful thoughts in your head are yours, they surely will be. And then you’ll be dunking in the shark-infested sea below instead of in the Dipping Pools of Mount Velarium. But if you know it’s all being sent by the Enchanter and you endeavor to reject the unhappy thoughts, that, in and of itself, will meet the criteria of a happy thought. See my point?”

  “Sounds simple but not easy.”

  “Trying is ninety-five percent of battle, missy. Now, I can already feel the cold spray of ocean on my bollocks, so please, my lovely, snap to it.”

  She imagined the Lord of the Curtain floating in a skull-shaped storm cloud, speaking into a smartphone. As he spoke from the cloud, his words began to stream and download into Caitlin’s mind, manifesting as her thoughts and her feelings of dread.

  It’s him. It’s not me. So why react to it? Why be afraid? Let go.

  But now she was too frightened to let go.

  Because if it didn’t work right away, she’d start thinking that she was wrong.

  Then the anxiety will become worse, and there’ll be no escape from this torment!

  Wait!

  Could that also be him? Trying to outfox me? Could all my doubting be him streaming into my head?

  Including my doubts about my doubts?

  Instead of trying to stop or transform all the negative thoughts, she let them float in her mind. She refused to validate them, though, or to invest sweat into them, or claim them as her own. She batted them away, like she was swinging a ping-pong paddle, knowing that it was only the Enchanter serving up all the balls full of doubt, dread, and distress.

  Caitlin had actually loved playing ping-pong with Girl Wonder in her younger days. Sh
e realized she and Natalie hadn’t played ever again after moving to London.

  Caitlin decided to let go of trying to control her breathing. She let go of agonizing over the possibility of hyperventilating, fainting midflight, and falling out of the sky.

  Focus on helping, assisting, and aiding Natalie and Eos!

  Focus!

  An exultant sense of freedom began to overwhelm her from out of nowhere. She peered to her right . . . left . . . glanced upward . . . then below . . .

  The wide-open expanse of space that had been tormenting her agoraphobic tendencies had inexplicably merged with her mind. That was the only way she could think to explain it. It manufactured an indescribable oneness, a feeling of connectedness with the universe. She felt in control of everything, along with a clarity. Everything was perfect and safe. The vast, unknown ocean in the middle of nowhere, far from everything familiar and safe, along with the unbound and starlit sky high above, became the sources of her exhilarating freedom. The same sweet comfort and security she felt at home, in her bed, snug under the covers, was with her right here, right now. And the feeling was so profound, it almost

  seemed worth going through the pain just to arrive at a better place.

  Caitlin and Peter regained speed . . . altitude . . .

  She was truly flying now . . . Gliding smoothly over the sea, beneath the boundless beauty of a storybook night sky.

  Her legs stuck together.

  Arms angled back like jet wings.

  I can’t wait to get there!

  To the Twin Mountains of Velarium.

  To confront the evil.

  And to make a difference—to myself!

  “Is there a shortcut?” she shouted to Peter.

  “Yes. But we’ll need to veer right.”

  She let go of Peter’s hand.

  She was flying on her own. Solo.

  “I’ll lead,” Caitlin shouted to Peter. “Be my wingman.”

  She increased her speed.

  Peter Pan fell into formation behind her.

  “Where do we veer right?” Caitlin shouted.

  He called out, “Second star on the right, then straight on till morning!”

  Whoooooooooosh!

  CHAPTER Forty

  The oddest, most unsettling sensation Natalie Fletcher had ever experienced occurred when she raised her hands to look at them . . . and they weren’t there. She next glanced down at her torso and legs—and they weren’t there either.

  Invisibility was a fragile, vulnerable, surreal state of existence because it hovered tenuously on the thin edge of nonexistence. She thought she was in danger of losing herself completely, disappearing into some cosmic tear in the fabric of space-time where her consciousness would vanish into nothingness as her physical body had done.

  But during that confrontation with the sun-swallowing white werwulves, the tiara had performed wonders on her imagination.

  She now understood: a ray of light made the world visible, but the ray of light itself was invisible. An intriguing phenomenon.

  For instance, outer space was as black as pitch even though the sun’s rays shone through it to illuminate the earth from a distance of ninety-one million miles.

  Hmmm. Why was that ninety-one million mile sun-kissed route blacker than black? Even though the endless, streaming light was shining along the entire route?

  The answer was deftly simple: there was no physical object in space to reflect the light. The Earth shone because the

  atmosphere, mountains, and lakes reflected the invisible light rays.

  Light itself is invisible because it has no mass. It generates no friction and thus no reflection. There’s nothing physical about light. And physicality corresponds to the material body. And the material body is all about knee-jerk reactions. Knee-jerk reactions are the embodiment of selfishness. It’s all about me, and I, and myself, and the ego!

  Selfishness embodies the body!

  Just like the red band of the spectrum.

  Violet light is all about sharing and goodness and calm and giving and harmony. A galactic shift from one end of the spectrum to the other—a vast gulf that must be traversed in order to acquire the traits of light. One has to move from selfishness to selflessness.

  Normally, this would be an impossible task, but the tiara made the impossible possible by neutralizing the influence of the red band of light.

  Natalie knew that if she could eradicate all the reactionary egocentric whims within her own mind by tapping the power of the tiara, there would be no more spiritual mass, which meant no more physical mass.

  Presto.

  Violet goes ultraviolet, becoming the invisible part of the spectrum.

  And that was basically how Natalie Fletcher managed the fantastical feat of making her physical body disappear into thin air.

  Blackbeard, meanwhile, had been keeping one eye on the wulves and one eye on the spot where Natalie had been standing before she achieved her mastery over visible matter. When the werwulves scattered, he had quickly lifted the tiara from her head. And though that tiara induced euphoric feelings associated with the pleasures of the violet end of the spectrum, Natalie was still as happy as a cat in a creamery to have her observable body back again.

  And now the two of them were back inside the cavern, sitting by the red quartzite boulder, and using its flat top as a table. Blackbeard sat directly across from Natalie, a look of destiny in his eye. Her destiny, she presumed.

  “The world can be yours, kid,” he said. “Alls ya hafta to do is help us build the world.”

  “Eos?”

  “Aye.”

  “How?”

  Grinning and keeping his eyes tightly fixed upon her, Blackbeard pulled a dagger from his belt. He flashed the blade’s edge in front of her, catching a glint of light seeping in from the crevice in the walls. He pulled a bronze skeleton key from another pocket and set it on top of the boulder.

  Looking pleased as rum punch, he wedged the fine edge of his dagger into a thin slit that formed a circle on the flattened top of the boulder. The circle was a hidden door panel flush with the surface of the rock.

  He lifted it up with a flick of the knife.

  Hisssssss.

  Green mist rose like colored steam from the hidden compartment.

  So this is where the humming noise in the cavern has been coming from.

  The soft sound rose in volume when the lid popped.

  Blackbeard picked up the skeleton key, winked a red-speckled, bloodshot eye at Natalie, and slid his hand into the hidden compartment. His arm jiggled as if inserting the key into a lock.

  Click.

  He gave his forearm a half turn.

  Snap.

  A latch released.

  The humming grew louder. He pulled out his arm.

  Something was moving inside the boulder.

  A polished, black, metal frame in the shape of a perfect hexagon rose from the boulder.

  Fitted snug inside the metallic hexagon were seven perfect, translucent quartz globes like crystal balls, as smooth as glass. Three were positioned on the left side, three on the right, and one was fitted into the middle. It reminded Natalie of a rack of billiard balls except it was hexagonal and not triangular.

  The seven orbs suddenly began to shimmer.

  Each one glowed one of the seven colors of the rainbow.

  And there was a distinct hum ringing from each one.

  Each sphere played one of the seven notes on the musical scale. The whole contraption looked like some kind of alien technology.

  Perhaps it’s some sort of a remote access control panel.

  “What is it?” Natalie asked.

  “The most valuable device in all the world. The master key that opens doorways.”

  “To where?”

  “Other wor
lds.”

  “Which worlds?”

  “All of ’em. Right now, it’s set to open the seven portals to Eos.”

  “How does it work?”

  “Alls ya gotta do is press each of the seven round keys. Seven portals will open. The Enchanter will then ’ave access to the world. So go ahead. Push ’em.”

  “Why don’t you do it?”

  “Only a living human hand can open doorways.”

  “Why would I want to unleash that curtained creature into some other world? So he can wreck it, like he did this world?”

  “Either that, lambkins . . . or yer sister, Caitlin, dies.”

  Natalie’s heart stopped.

  That was the first time the pirate has even mentioned Caitlin—and when he did, he threatened her life!

  “She’s the firstborn,” he said. “While she lives, she gives ya some protection. So I can’t force ya to open the gates. Ya need to choose to do it. For yerself. But if ya won’t, she dies.

  And then ya lose that protection. And then I can force ya to open them.”

  Natalie snatched the metallic hexagon from the boulder.

  She raised it above her head. It was heavy, like a jug of milk. Maybe a bit heavier.

  “I’ll smash it unless you give me the tiara. I’m getting out of here.”

  Blackbeard chuckled. “Ya don’t have to threaten me, little lambkins. I’ll give ya the tiara. ’Cuz yer never gonna make it outta here.”

  Why not?

  Still holding the hexagon above her head, Natalie gestured with her chin toward the wall that opened like a door. “What’s really behind there?”

  He seemed pleased by the question. “Tunnels.”

  “What kind of tunnels?”

  “Don’t matter none. You’ll never figure yer way out.”

  She lifted the hexagon higher, as if preparing to toss it.

  “I said—what kind of tunnels?”

  “Sort o’ like Zeno’s Forest, but located in the interior of the kingdom. Like being on the inside of a ship instead of on deck.”

  “How many tunnels?”

  He chuckled. “It’s a maze, lass. Impossible to figure yer way out, I tell ya.”

  She wouldn’t have to figure her way out if she had the tiara—she could walk through walls and crosscut all the tunnels and escape.