The Mortal Fringe
Title Page
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 43
THE MORTAL FRINGE
BY
Jordi Ribolleda
Published by Jordi Ribolleda at Smashwords
Copyright 2014 Jordi Ribolleda
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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CHAPTER 1
I am standing completely alone on a plane, and everything is black & white. The buzzing sound of the engines penetrates my head as a gimlet, and a dense fog begins to take control of the whole cabin, and I freeze as it approaches me.
Fire cracking all around me but there is nothing I can see: nothing but a sudden blinding light far away from here, turning the pale mist into a gory sea.
Before the thick fog reaches me, the plane shakes and falls into the ocean. I run to the tail looking for a getaway, but something falls from the upper cabinets and hits me really hard. I lose my balance and I fall to the floor, hitting my head with one of the seats. As the plane goes down, I start to hit every corner of the cabin. I fall into the mist, and the roaring plane hits the tides.
The windows break, the emergency doors open and then everything start to flood. I can't remember how to swim, I can't even move, or think. I feel the water going up, first covering my legs, then my chest, then my head.
In the loneliness of the flooded plane, I start seeing shadows. Dead souls summoned around me to take me with them, take me wherever they come from.
I still see the purple light in front of me and through the shadows, and I can tell there's someone staring at me with eyes of flashing green light. I close my own slowly and the water fills my lungs, I'm drowning. And once more, before the green light I'm dying.
The sudden shake makes me fell off my seat. Drops of sweat are going down my forehead, my dizzy eyes feel numb. I can barely breathe. I fight against myself to open my eyes wide enough to see the air hostess walking towards me with a glass of water.
"It was just turbulence, there's no need to worry".
I take the glass it carefully enough not to spill it, but before I can bring it to my mouth I realize that we are not flying over the ocean anymore. I have been sleeping for over six hours.
I knew this was going to happen again, as it has been happening for the last going months. I have lost count of how many times I've seen the bright light at the end of the tunnel. I see it every day, every night, whenever I close my eyes. But it isn't quite the feeling I expected. Instead of warm pure light, I only see deathly cold green sorrow. And every night I die once more, until I wake up again.
It has taken me a long time to get used to waking up almost screaming, with my sweaty body aching of pain and hesitation. I never know if it was just a dream until I calm down a little. That's never easy.
Being in here doesn't help either, it's like being stuck inside a car, trapped without being able to get out. Trapped, that's pretty much how I could summarize my last year. I have been trapped within myself. Everywhere I go confines me to some unknown spot I didn't know existed in my wrecked mind.
I am only glad no one has been near me long enough to see the mess I've become lately. My reservations about the matter have, in part, helped me make this decision. I never thought about leaving my country, not even for a short vacation, but this past year has changed everything and now I just can't bare the sight of my house anymore.
It's curious how guilt changes us; I remember how I used to be and how I turned out. Not even those who I considered my closest friends stuck with me when I needed them, only Richard was there. Once I called him Dick, it seemed friendly and familiar, but all that is now gone, and so am I.
Landing is twenty minutes away according to the flat screen in front of me; I can't wait to get out of here. I don't even want to look around the cabin; it would bring back the dream. Just thinking about it makes me numb again.
I need a distraction, my head is spinning and even if it is for what just happened or because I am stuck I know there's only one possible outcome, and I don't want to have a breakdown in here, not in front of so many helpless people.
I drag my bag from under my seat and go through it breathing smoothly, I need to keep calm. I must have made a bad move when I woke up, my arm hurts and I can barely feel it. I open the back and look for anything that might be helpful right now. I know there's a book in here, I put it in right before leaving. I even remember the green cover. There's many things I don't recall packing, and I can't find any of my stuff so I am quite sure mom went through the bag without my permission.
Finally I get to the book, The Reader. I read about it somewhere, and they praised the dangerous liaison between the main characters, which I guess I could relate to the relation I've had with myself for the last months. The book was hidden under countless packs of strips and stuff my dear mother probably took from the first aid kid. There are even family pictures, one of which used to be in our dining room up until this morning; me, her, and David. It's curious how many people have been impressed by our likelihood and not realized we are actually twins.
The picture draws an involuntary smile on my face. But I left, and nothing is and will ever be like in this picture. That smile on my mother's face? What I will remember is the sobbing of earlier today when I reluctantly got in Richard's car to go to the airport. I couldn't even let her drive me. It was enough just to get back in one of those things.
It will take a long time to make peace with everything, I knew it before leaving and it is getting clearer and clearer as I put more distance between home and the unknown. Leaving will be good though, it must be.
The hostess comes back to get the glass of water as we are about to land and the trays need to be cleared. I try to hand her the glass myself but when I move my arm a terrible pinch keeps me from doing it. I feel an instant drop of sweat down my neck and through my back. I try to hide the pain and hand the woman the glass as smoothly as I can.
"Can I still use the bathroom?"
"Sir we are about to land, you should fasten your seat belt, sorry", she smiles at me as if all she was saying was pure mimic and repetition.
Ten minutes later I am on the ground and getting off the plane, doing my best to avoid contact with anyone that could accidentally touch my arm. This has certainly been a hell of a ride, as David would say. I haven't recovered from that dream yet, it's always like that; l
oneliness, pain, and death. But this time it was a little different, I was really convinced I was drowning and that the plane was going down. This time, it felt real.
I spend the next half an hour going through the controls and waiting for my luggage, doing my best to pull myself together and hold my nerves.
"Welcome to Barcelona" someone near the luggage reclaim railing keeps saying that to anyone who walks nearby. I'd rather I arrived in better condition.
When I am finally out of the terminal I look for a bathroom and sneak in.
My body is shaking; the pain seems to be going away although I have a bad feeling about it. I know the best thing to do is breathe, but I hardly can. I try to take off my jacket but I can't avoid a painful scream before doing so. I raise the sleeve of my jumper, and there is a huge bruise in the exact same spot that the thing from the dream hit me.
I look at the mirror and I am nothing but a living dead, pale and lifeless as fear and hate.
CHAPTER 2
That has never happened before
I try to focus, but my eyes keep going back to the dark bruise on my arm. How on earth did that happen? Am I imagining things now? I need to relax. I sit on the toilet and place my head between my legs as I usually do when I have one of this episodes. My whole body is shaking and I can feel the sweat coming down my neck, I am getting cold. I try to breathe slowly, it takes me a while but I can finally manage to get on my feet again. I wash my hands afterwards and when I check my arm again the bruise is gone, thank god, it probably wasn't even there in the first place.
When I leave the bathroom I notice some payphones on my right, I have to call home. I'll do it once I'm settled in, I have already lost too much time.
Since I have no idea of where I'm going, I follow everyone in the terminal. I only asked someone about the train station and the answer was a strange look and a helpless gasp, maybe that's usual here when people meet English speakers. My Spanish is not something to be proud of. After some long walk I manage to get into the train, not because anyone helped me. I find a sit close to the door. There's some hideous beep and the train starts to move. I'm really here, hasn't sunk in yet.
My bag is full of stuff I didn't use during the flight, even my headphones, but thank God they are here, there's a baby in front of me that doesn't seem to be able to stop crying. I put them on, turn on my iPod and listen to whatever pops in, Adele. I am constantly looking through the window, everyone must think that I have not seen a city in my entire life, but I really don't care.
Fifteen minutes later and I'm getting off the train. My map is in my hand and my headphones are in my pocket. Passeig de gracia looks like Fifth avenue, only smaller and without that many people walking like crazy. My residence should be around here. I go near someone who looks my age and very politely, and trying not to stutter or shake too much, ask her if she'd be so nice to show me where the hell I am.
"Oh, you are close" thank God, she speaks something similar to English.
After some minutes of indications I finally get there. It looks nice, there are some people with suitcases waiting to go in, so I'm guessing that I am in the right place. I make my way inside and walk straight to the check-in desk, where a lovely woman looks at me in a very strange way, holding up a pen and raising one of her eyebrows.
"Hello, I'm Alex Stills"
The lady speaks only Spanish, I'm not at all surprised, but she did understand me. With many gestures and funny voices, and for some reason very loudly, I know that my room is 205, in the second floor. She also tells me that my roommate is already there. I wish I could have had a blank moment once I settled, but it will be a good thing to meet someone straight away, I guess. The elevator is right next to the check-in desk so I push the button and wait for it. The key to the room in which I will live for the next six months is in my hand, and I feel like my life is about to start all over again. I can't deny it, I am excited and what happened during the flight is nothing but a distant memory now.
It takes me about 5 minutes to get to my room, I open the door and indeed my roommate is in. He has already decorated half of the room with movie posters, most of them science fiction which I have to admit I haven't watched.
"Hey there" for his accent, he is an American, but there's a British hint in the way he talks. After flying across the world, I would have picked a different roommate, it's like I haven't left.
"Good morning, I'm Alex." I say shyly, as always.
"Jay" he shakes my hand "I picked this side of the room but if you prefer it I can move all this, I really don't care."
For some reason he picked the half of the room that has no window and looks dark and solitary.
"Oh no, it's fine. I like daylight, thank you."
I settle myself in, all my clothes are in the wardrobe and my books are on the shelf next to my bed. My laptop is on my desk, and I already feel like home. I switch my phone on; I have four lost calls and countless messages. I can't avoid smiling.
"Already missing you back home, huh?" I don't think I am ready for that much level of confidence yet.
I smile politely, not knowing what or how to answer. I pick up the cell phone and call home. The first thing I hear are sobs, then a somewhat controlled enthusiastic scream, and finally mom's voice. "Hey there".
"Thank god Alex! How was the flight? How do you like the city?" she keeps going on and on, asking thinks to which I can hardly answer. Finally, she takes a break and I can talk.
"Mom, take it easy, everything's fine. I slept all the way through the flight and I just got here, I really don't know how I do like the city yet, I guess I'll need some time for that."
"Oh darling, of course! You sound so happy, I really like that."
"Yeah" I say, starting to feel bad, remembering.
"I'm really proud of you Alex, be nice will you? Don't forget about your mother!" I like how she hides her sadness with jokes.
"Thanks mom, I won't, talk to you later. Love you, bye", and she is gone again.
I lie on my back, my phone is still on my hand and all I can hear is Jay moving some of his stuff up and down the room.
"So, where are you from?"
"Bay shore", how on earth does he do it? I need months to start talking to someone I don't know. I guess that I am the strange one, it's just a simple question, everyone should be able to do that. Everyone but me.
"That's great, I'm from New York. But I moved to London some years ago to live with my sister."
"Lucky you, that sounds nice" I lie, I never liked New York, and this is the first time I am away from home, so I know nothing of the world other than what I've seen in postcards. I would ask something about him moving without his parents, he seems barely older than me. Nothing about him tells me so, but he must come from a wealthy family.
"So, what brings you here?"
I pretend I have not heard him, but he asks again, so even though I'd rather stop the talking right now, I answer.
"I'm here for the semester, doing classic studies, you know: Greek, Latin, all that."
"No way! I'm taking some of those classes too!" «No way! » that's exactly my first thought.
I don't know if Jay is talking to me again, because I have my headphones on and the music is loud enough to avoid hearing my own thoughts. He looks like a nice and cool guy, but today I really need to arrange everything that's on my mind. Tomorrow I'll be more willing to talk to him, or that's what I promise to myself. At least I already know someone in the city. Making friends has never been my thing, that's why I left just one back home.
I pick up my phone again, I look for Richard's number and I send him a text.
I'm here, it looks really cool, drive safe. Alex.
He drove me to the airport, it would have been hard for anyone in my family to do so, and he offered to do it himself. It was a long, silent ride, something felt like broken between us.
I wake up in the middle of the night, I've had the same dream again, not the one from the plane, but the one that has
been haunting me for the last moths. I only remember that I die by the end of it. I hate this feeling.
I get off my bed slowly, I don't want to wake Jay. After drinking some water and staring into the wall for a short while I'm back on my bed. I check the time and I still have a couple of hours before I have to get up. I have a new message.
Good.
That must be the easiest message to analyze ever. Anyway, Richard has always been one of a kind, I'm not surprised, but I am not going to feel guilty for being here and doing what I have wanted to do for so long. Last year did not stop me, nor will he.
I can't sleep, I am terrified of it. I spend the next three hours awake and when the alarm goes off I am already off the bed. I walk to the bathroom and when I take off my clothes y see another mark on my chest, as if something had hit me very hard and broke some of my ribs. This time though, I have not even dreamed. It doesn't hurt, but the simple sight of it makes me shake again.
CHAPTER 3
I can't believe this is the university. This building looks like a monastery! Everything looks ancient, like a keeper of time. That's what I call architecture. As I enter the building I go straight to the panel in front of me, my first class is in room 113, and I obviously have no Idea of where it is. I wish they would sent the students a map of the place or something like that. Finally, I find it. As I go inside I am literally speechless, it's like a cloisters, there is a huge corridor around it and the classes are along the way. I find room 113, which looks like the classrooms I am used to see on TV. Stairs like rooms. I sit on the front row, the class is supposed to be in English but I won't risk it, if it is in Spanish I need to catch every single word of it.
As everyone begins to enter the class I feel their fingers pointing at me, like if I had the word stranger written on my face. Finally, a small, thin red headed woman with some streaks of white and orange comes into the room and puts all her stuff in the teacher's table. That's going to be interesting. She looks at me and smiles, two seconds later, she is already talking.
The Mortal Fringe Page 1