The World of Myth Magazine

Wild and stormy nights have always held a fascination for me. While others sought shelter, I bundled up, and headed outside. I wandered for hours in the buffeting wind and driving rain. The weather was why I chose to walk home after work that Friday night. However, as the storm raged, a series of events unfolded. These changed not only the way I saw the world but opened a door into another realm. That allowed the demon who had been hunting me to sense me again.

I was unaware of the danger I was in. If I had been aware I had the ability to twist to the eleventh dimension, well, "if" is a small word with huge connotations. Once that cosmic door opened, he had me. The one who had hunted me across the galaxy knew where I was.

I was almost home when it happened. From out of the darkness that pooled between the streetlamps, a man dashed towards me. I assumed he would swerve to miss me, but no. In one fluid motion, he grabbed my bag and pulled me off my feet. My head bounced on the concrete, and I blacked out. When I opened my eyes, the wind and rain no longer pelted my face. I wasn't lying on the wet pavement, but on a hard bed. A bright light filled my vision, and I blinked a couple of times as things came into focus.

Someone held my hand. A man with a sweet smile said, "Hello. I’m Dr. MacDougal."

I asked, "Where am I?"

"In hospital. Can you tell me your name?"

"It's Sam, Samantha Jones."

He let go of my hand and used a small light to check pupil constriction.

"Are you experiencing double vision?"

"Well, I am now," I said, a little tetchily. "When can I go home?"

"We’ll have to keep you overnight in case of concussion, but you will probably be able to leave tomorrow morning. The police want your statement. Do you feel up to speaking with them?"

"Yes, not that I can tell them much. He wore a scarf over his face."

The Q & A was brief and consisted of: Can you describe your assailant? Answer, no. End off.

The police left, and I tried to get some sleep. The next morning, my friend Julie arrived with a change of clothes for me. When I was given the okay to leave, Dr. MacDougal pressed his card into my hand and asked me to call him when I felt better.

I didn't do much for the rest of that day. I felt a bit bruised, but I was sure I'd get back to work in my shop the next day. Little did I know what the night would bring.

I fell asleep quickly, but something disturbed me. When I opened my eyes again, the room was still dark. I had no idea what had awakened me. I decided to get up; I knew I wouldn't fall asleep again. I opened the bedroom door and walked into the hall. I suddenly realized there was a glowing light showing under the kitchen door. I backtracked to the hall cupboard and grabbed the hockey stick I kept there, just in case. Not just in case I felt like playing hockey just in case I needed to beat someone up. I knew I should dial 999, but ever since the mugging, I had been so angry. I was not a victim; I was a fighter. I marched down the hall, kicked open the door, and shouted.

"The police are on their way. You better get out of here!" This is where it gets even weirder. Two figures were standing in front of me, and I recognized them. I looked at my parents. Yes, you heard me correctly. My parents were standing in my kitchen. It was eleven years after they had died, and they had the same look of love on their faces that I remembered so well. I fainted.

I started to return to consciousness, and it was the oddest feeling. I can only describe it as falling up instead of down. I was very reluctant to open my eyes. Trying to tell myself there was nothing to worry about did not help. I opened my eyes at last and they were both still there. I knew deep down that I wasn't crazy, but I also knew that I had lost the two people standing in front of me when I was fourteen.

I was aware, even at that age, that we were different from other families. Still, it was normal for me, and all was fine. When they died in a car crash, I was taken to live with my dad's aunt, my only relative. I had never met her before, and I very quickly realized she was nothing like my dad. It was also quite clear that she had not cared for their lifestyle.

I started school just a couple of weeks after moving to her house, and it was probably the hardest adjustment I had ever experienced. Suddenly, I was thrown into the world of my peers. If you know anything about children, you will be aware that they are pack animals and if you are different, you are toast! I did surprise myself at how quickly I adjusted. I smiled a lot and melded in. Still, I never forgot my old life. Memories of picking herbs with my mum, planting vegetables with my dad, reading, and laughing; these were with me and always would be. Aunt Mary and I rubbed along tolerably well. I think she was relieved that I looked and acted normally. She felt able to relax after a while and let me get on with my life as best I could.

Years passed and I lost Aunt Mary. She left me everything she possessed, which was a great deal more than I had ever expected. I decided to do what I had always dreamed of, but never thought I could: I opened a shop called "Curiouser and Curiouser." I filled it first with the eclectic objects my parents had collected. I had stored them in the attic, despite Aunt Mary's constant silent disapproval. There were lots of books, ranging from supremely serious tomes titled, "Paganism in the Hebrew Old Testament," to simply silly ones like, "Voodoo for Beginners-Doll Included."

Then, there were the artefacts, which included wooden masks from Africa, not tourist pieces. There were large, colorful crystals and more. I had so much stock I barely had to buy anything at the beginning. After the first year of trading, I was doing well enough to hire an assistant. She was called Carol, and was a lovely, friendly, motherly lady with clouds of soft grey hair, layers of gauzy floaty clothing, and comfy shoes. More about her later.

Well, I can't put it off any longer, so back to the kitchen and my parents. I leaped to my feet, and I am ashamed to say I was gibbering. They both looked alarmed. Their surprisingly normal reaction calmed me enough so that I stopped waving my arms around and sat down. We looked at each other and, in one long breath, I asked, "Why are you here? Why haven't I been able to see you before?"

My mum said, in her soft, sweet voice, which I remember so well, "Oh, my darling girl, we are so very sorry we couldn't contact you before. It was too dangerous. It still is, but we have no choice now. We have to warn you."

"Warn me of what? If it's about the mugging, you're a little late!"

That may have come out a little harsher than it should have, and I regretted the words right away. Before I could say sorry, dad spoke for the first time. I saw the pain and worry in his eyes.

"We have so much to tell you, but not a lot of time. We had to hide you, shield you, so that your light, your aura, could not be seen. There is a demon out there who has been seeking you since you escaped from him."

This was too much to take in. My dear old dad saw me slump in my chair. "Come, Joy," he said to my mum, "she is tired and confused. We need to let her rest." He looked over at me and said, "We have woven protection spells around your home to safeguard you. We will be back tomorrow. You can discuss this with Carol if you want. She's been your spirit bodyguard since we had to leave you. Okay, enough now. Go rest."

Without another word, just a gentle kiss on my cheek, they were gone. Rest? How could I rest? I thought. My mind was spinning. I simultaneously had too much and not enough information, and my head hurt. It was definitely time for bed.

I woke up at my usual time and was astonished that I had managed those few hours of sleep. For a second, I even forgot about the previous night's events. It all came flooding back, however, with total clarity, but not one jot of understanding. It could not have happened; it was impossible. Perhaps the blow to the head was more serious than I first thought. Maybe I should call Dr. MacSmoochy? It was a great excuse, but what could I tell him that wouldn't get me carted off to a nice, padded cell wearing one of those hug-yourself white jackets?

I needed to speak to Carol about the weird events of the night before. It became apparent when I got to the shop that I would not be able to because there was no Carol. There was a note from her, however, short but very sweet. The note read: "You no longer need me, so I am going home. You have your mother and father now, and they will explain everything. I will miss you and if you ever need me again, I will return."

I was close to tears. She had been a wonderful friend and I felt sad that I hadn't been able to say goodbye to her. This was not what I had expected, but now was not the time to fall apart. I desperately wanted to speak to my parents, but I had not one notion of how to find them. Why hadn't I asked last night if they had the equivalent of a Bat phone? All this was going through my mind as I clicked into work mode, put on the lights, turned on some music, turned the "CLOSED" sign to "OPEN", and started towards the coffee machine.

The sky had darkened, and the long day was nearly over when I heard the door behind me creak open. I didn't like shop bells, so the noisy old door let me know when someone was coming in. I turned around and felt a miasma of cold, dank air that seemed to emanate from the tall, dark, and very good-looking man standing in the doorway. I can't tell you why, but every instinct in me screamed, Don't ask him in! He spoke in the kind of mellow, deep voice you might expect from an actor. It felt to me as if he was trying to portray himself as normal, but there was no real warmth there.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

I tried not to show my repugnance and replied,

"I am just closing up. I have a meeting which I'm already late for "

"That is a pity," he said. It's also a pity that whoever put the protective wards around your home and your shop knew what they were doing. Never mind, there is always another day. All good protagonists require a formidable foe, and now I have the measure of mine."

He turned and disappeared. And I don't mean he walked swiftly away; I mean he completely disappeared.

Just as I was breathing a sigh of relief, there was a sort of sonic "pop" and my parents appeared, hovering their usual four inches above the floor. I jumped and squeaked. Dad said, "What has happened, you look very pale?" I told them about the weird guy in the doorway and what he had said.

My dad groaned. He took mum's hand and said, "Vizorian has found her, a lot quicker than I expected, too. He must be desperate."

He turned and said to me, "We have a lot to tell you, but you are tired. Get a taxi, go straight home. We will see you back there." With that sonic "pop," they were gone. I could feel how worried they were, so I closed up the shop as quickly as I could.

I stepped outside, and as I was locking the door, I heard a deep, menacing voice right beside me say, "So good to see you again, Sam. Now where do you think you're going?" In a blind panic, I spun around so quickly I almost stumbled. Thinking only of being somewhere safe, I suddenly found myself inside my own house.

I was breathless with fear and astonishment at my narrow escape. I gasped,

Dad, what just happened? He nearly got me, but I twisted away from him and then I was here. How did I do that?"

"You were very young when you first found you had this ability. From the way you described the process to us, it seems you can twist into the 11th dimension. You can then move yourself and others through time and space. He has never found anyone with that ability since you escaped from him. He took you from us when you were only nine. We have spent the endless years since trying to find you."

"Okay dad let's say I believe all this twaddle. You're telling me we come from where? Some other dimension? Did this Vizorian guy also come from outer space? Is he an alien? Oh, my goodness, are we aliens?"

It was so good to see Dad smile again. That didn't last long, though.

"No dear girl, but we are different. We aren't demonic like Vizorian, but we do come from a dimension that is connected to this one and many others. There’s a delicate art to trading here with earthers, mostly Wiccans or Hedge witches. You didn't use your ability much to begin with. You were so young still. You experimented, trying to find your limits.

Of course, people talked about you. We didn't think there was any harm in that. We were so proud of you. We think he heard about you from those here who had strayed to the dark side. He came out of nowhere one day and he snatched you. You were his prisoner for a hundred years in his realm. Time moved differently there. When you got away from him and arrived on Earth, you looked about fourteen."

Mum took up the tale, explaining how they had found me again.

"We had established a multiverse network. We employed people to monitor and report back to us if your name or any reports on you appeared. We hoped you would manage the impossible. I do not think I can describe to you the joy and relief we felt when you appeared again.

We persuaded Mary to look after you. She was not your aunt. She had been one of the network, and she had had no children of her own. She agreed to the same memory modification that you had. That meant that she would not slip up if questioned about you. We then wiped all memories of your ability and the years spent with Vizorian from your mind. You would not remember who you were or what you could do. We gave you a new set of memories to tie in with Mary's."

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