Pearl Fantasy

[ProMetaAnaTelo]

Late one cold, autumn afternoon the two children sit in each other's company. The gentle flow of the river in these isolated woodlands is the only noise besides their voices. The birds have flown south for warmer regions to wait out the cold winter ahead.

The young boy of ten years picks a stone up from the shore of the river, placing it into the rubber grip of his slingshot and she watches, dazzled. Words are exchanged between the two bodies, wrapped up in heavy jackets and scarves in the chilling air.

---

Rachel picks up her pen and folds the letter over and over again, stoic from meditation on an important decision. It creases down to the size of her thumb before she unfolds it again to read it silently.

“Electrical and Magnetic Therapy Testing.” It displays in large, bold font. The unstapled sheets inside the manilla folder are the stereotypical contract where pages are long, letters are small and signatures are everywhere.

A few signatures are all she needs to cure herself-- to fix her 'wrongs' and be normal again.

---

Careening through the air the stone cracks into a tree on the other side of the river. The boy turns to her, smiling with his fat cheeks-- so full of youth and happiness. She returns the grin and holds out the roundest pebble she could find.
Their pale faces grow rosy and glow brightly in the frigid cold. She just wants to stay in his company and enjoy the time they have.

“D'ya think I can hit that rock?” The boy, Jamie, asks.
She points to a rock, jutting out of the waters in front of them. “That one?”

Jamie nods and pulls back on the band of the slingshot, arcing her stone into the air and missing the rock in the water.

---

April 4th, 2010

They tell me to keep a diary. To record my thoughts I guess. There's some outlines and all sorts of stuff I need to follow with these diary entries.

Well, here I go. Acting like a teenage girl again, with her crazy scrawlings about boys and how unfair her parents are.

Dear, Diary. No... is that weird? That's what most girls do, right? “Dear Diary, Michael is sooo cool. ”

I guess I should take this seriously. I'm a bit nervous about being hooked up tomorrow. I heard your brain needs magnetic pulses or something to work. Will the tests mess my brain up? I guess they can't really mess it up anymore than it already is, yeah?

I hope they fix me.

---

He is her only friend in the whole school. They play together as often as possible, usually in this spot-- a sandy beach, cleared of trees against the river. Shooters are scarce to find as they've picked out all of the larger stones out from the years of time spent here.

Once he moves in Spring, she'll never see Jamie again (at least not in a literal sense). He'll move down to Texas, out of Ohio and away from her. Not a single word will ever be shared between them again.

---

“Now, Rachel you can back out if you want.” Doctor Sigly sighs.

“No, please! I just... I'm scared.” Rachel squeaks as the doctor attaches the nodes the hear head. She jokes about starring in a sci-fi movie about brainwashing and the doctor chuckles, likely only to humor her.

“Okay, have you been writing in your journal?” Dr. Sigly asks.

“Yessir.”

“Glad to hear that, the first entry is very important.” He leans her chair so she's laying flat on her back. “Okay, the electricity's on...”

Dr. Sigly flips a few switches. “Now. It's on now. See, you can't feel a thing can you?” She shakes her head, surprised she's not convulsing.

“The electricity is very, very minute. You won't feel a thing. I'll kick the magnets on in half an hour. You can sleep if you want to.”

Dr. Sigly leaves the room and flips the lightswitch. The only lights are those of the electronic monitors next to her.

---

She'll frequent this spot many times after Jamie moves away, trying to remember his voice or the way he would shoot the pebbles. She'll even try to make a slingshot and shoot for the rock in the river that he could never seem to hit, to no greater success than he.

“Rachel. You gonna miss me when I go?” He smiles wryly.
She walks over and pulls his scarf away from his mouth. “Not as much as yer gonna miss me.” she teases, kissing him on the cold lips.

---

April 23rd, 2010

Dear diary,

I just got home from the therapy. I don't feel much different, but hopefully it's a start. The whole magnet-to-brain idea is a bit uncomfortable to me still, but I'm not dead.

I'm real tired, though. The clock says it's 8:30 P.M.. It feels like it's 3:00 A.M..

Oh well, though. I have Dwight Schrute next to me, keeping me company. I can hear the voices around the office. Dwight's up to his usual crazy normalities. Every Tuesday at 8:30 I press the button and everyone comes over to me and just hangs out. We watch him and his friends on T.V. and have a good time. They're really nice. Much nicer than those Jersey Shore people.

I think Dwight likes me. He's looking over my shoulder now, trying to read my diary. Heehee.

But I have to sleep now, and my friends have to go back to work in the morning. I'll wish them goodnight and turn the T.V. off.

There, done. They went back. The seat's still warm next to me.

---

“Promise me that you'll see me again someday, Jamie.”

“I promise.”

“Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise. But promise me you'll never lose that pearl I gave you.”

“What pearl?”

“Very funny, Rachel.”

“I'm serious. What pearl...?”

[Admin]

This was structured very well. All the loose ends tied together cleanly, in addition, the title of the story wasn't bullshitted. It was significant and clear. Way to go.

[Golden Emblem]

This was very good. I look forward to seeing more.

[ProMetaAnaTelo]

Chapter 2

“Now, run the procedure by me again, Doc.” Garret says, worried.

Dr. Sigly sighed and raises the clipboard, this time repeating it verbatim from the sheet. “Take an orange pill in the morning and at night take both blue and orange pills. Within the first week you'll probably feel some nausea after you eat any meats. Avoiding meat and switching to nuts is recommended for at least the first week.”

“Okay, Doc... Then I just show up every week for the shock treatment?” Garret asks.
Sigly impatiently shakes his head. “Garret, we've gone over this four times now. You'll come for electro-therapy and then you'll also need to take shots every two months.”

“Why's there so much stuff, Doc? This sounds so complicated.”

Sigly sits Garret down into an armchair in the empty waiting room. “Garret, we are on a breakthrough in medicine. We are actually making progress in curing schizophrenia. This has yet to ever been done before! It is a new science and it has to be perfected. Maybe one day the process will be simplified, but we are entering a new frontier. Who knows what will be possible if we accomplish this!”

---

Garret bursts into Sigly's office. “Doc, I don't think I like these... treatments. I've been seeing some weird shit.”

“Garret! You scared me.” Sigly jumps, holding his heart. “Have a seat. We can talk.”

“Doc...” He says, falling into the chair. “I'm done. I'm getting these...” Garret trails off into silence.

“These...?” Sigly questions, concerned.

“When I dream... I don't dream. It's like I'm alive, but not here. I'm alone there...” He moans, melting into the chair.

“How many of those pills have you taken?”

“All of them!”

“Garret, that bottle was meant to last you two full months! Are these dreams about?”

I don't know!” Garret roars. “I'm so alone, it's so... terrible. There's something there with me. A wolf. It's chasing me! I wake up with cuts from where I fell, dirt from where I crawled under things... I don't understand it.”

“Dear God... your schizophrenia... Why have you not mentioned this until now? Your schizophrenia has worsened!”

“Doc!” Garret yells, spitting into Sigly's glasses. “This isn't no damn schizophrenia!” Garret clenches his fists and climbs onto the doctor's desk. “Look at me. Look at me!”

Garret pulls his shirt off, revealing scratches and bite-marks all over his chest. The bite-marks are red, some are still bleeding. Raw, pink flesh hangs limp off of one particularly painful-looking wound.

Dr. Sigly flies back and grabs the phone off of the wall. “Christ, Garret! Stay here, I have to make a phone call.”

Garret, now mad with fear rips the phone from the wall, shattering the window with it. He pushes the doctor down and sprints out the door, running like an animal. Dr. Sigly can only watch as the shirtless, wound-covered man lunges down the hallway, knocking two women over who cross his path.

“Dear God...”

---

Rain pours down heavily on the small park. Thunder and lightning crack through the sky, turning the night into day.

The frail man crawls through the metal tube that children often play in. His tin foil hat fastened securely around his head with a shoe string. Then, spotting an electric socket in the distance he hobbles over to it, kneeling down and inserting his tongue into the plug.

Electricity races through his entire body, especially his tin foil hat, which amplifies to intensity to his brain. He's done this for six months now, nearly every day. Children often point and laugh at the strange man who barks at old women feeding pigeons.

Often point and laugh at Garret.





----------------------------
Wow, the Flashback rule REALLY screwed my idea for this chapter over. I set up for this chapter too much with the ending of my last chapter, so I had to change the entire chapter plot.

I hope this came out better than I feel like it did.

[Golden Emblem]

Oct 3, 2010 21:06:26 GMT -5 ProMetaAnaTelo said:

I hope this came out better than I feel like it did.

It did. It was really good.

[killerinstinct]

There are lot of loose ends, and unanswered questions, but hey, it's just the second chapter. I'm looking forward to the next one

[ProMetaAnaTelo]

Chapter 3

April 24th 2010

Dear diary,

Is anything real anymore?

---

Chilling wind streams through the silent, lifeless forest. Not a single leaf remains on the icy, black trees. The breeze carries the charcoaled leafs along the ground, chipping them into pieces as they tumble around the exposed roots. A lone leaf escapes and hits a mattress in the middle of the woods. It remains pressed there, against the soft fabric until it gains enough lift to twist up and into Rachel's open mouth.

She spits the leaf out, looking around. She did not fall asleep in this place. The pale woman sits upright from her curled position, losing her warmth to the new-found wilderness around her. No birds chirp in the forest and not a stir beyond the wind catches her ear.

A weak cough squeaks from her lungs as she wraps herself in the white sheets of her bed, stepping into her houseshoes at the side.

“Hello?” She calls out. “Where am I...?” She whispers to herself, still groggy from waking up.

She steps through the cold forest, kicking up leafs with each step. They're stiff and dead-- nearly to the point where it's questionable if they had ever been alive before. This applies to the trees as well, with their cold and chalky bark. She picks a pinch of the bark off and eats it. As soon as she tastes the bitter wood she regrets it, spitting it out onto the dirt.

Amongst her spit she spots a small, gleaming sphere about the size of a marble. She feels the glossy exterior and admires its shine. A pearl in the middle of the dark, dead woods. Another ahead of her, too. She steps over and picks it up, comparing the couple.

They are exact matches, not a single difference between them. Then another catches the corner of her eye. Amongst the pearls she finds footprints, leading a trail through the woods “Hello?” She cries out one more time.

After nearly twenty minutes of gathering these pearls in the leaves she hears a sound in the distance. A metronome, almost. Gentle crunches every other second, like feet dragging along the forest floor. Out of pure curiosity she follows the sound and drops the pearls, stopping every few moments to reorient herself. Then she spots the source of the noise.

In the middle of the forest stands a silhouette, a shadow of a man. It had no distinctive figures, and should it have had skin it would blend into any crowd. But for a reason beyond Rachel she knew who it was. The figure, limping through the woods, was a full-grown Jamie. Her best friend from childhood.

There is no reason for her to believe this, but she knows without a doubt who it is. “Jamie!” She calls out, running towards him. The figure turns like an animal. The beast haunches down and a loud sound protrudes from its non-existent mouth. A loud fuzzing sound, like static on a radio. She screams, falling over and trying to escape. But sadly, she stumbles around like a drunkard, trying to escape from the inside of a scaffold.

She is completely disoriented as Jamie walks up behind her, getting louder and louder with each soulless step he takes.

Rachel stands and begins to make progress before she falls and gashes her arm open on a root. As the blood pours out the sound stops and Jamie picks up his haunting pace. Rachel sprints away from the black monster chasing her through the forest. She sprints through the trees, bending branches to help smack Jamie and hopefully hinder him. As she turns back to see how effective her plan is, she skids to a stop.

Jamie is gone. Bending over, she gasps for air. Black tentacles come from the treetops above, nearly wrapping themselves around her. Rachel rolls away, getting blood all over her blankets. The tentacles wrap around the branches, allowing Jamie to swing down and land in front of her. A cold and empty stare is all he gives her before he begins to aggressively approach her once more.

She sprints in the opposite direction, over an empty brook and over a fence. Jamie now has picked up his pace to keep up with her. A large house sits before her, and without hesitation she hurls herself through the window, shattering it and landing on her butt.

Immediately she curls up into a ball, hoping not to be found.
Silence. No sounds.

Gently, she peers up over the broken window and sees Jamie watching her. He makes no effort to enter, his body loose and relaxed. Then he turns, dropping a single pearl onto the ground and disappears into the forest.

---

About half of an hour later she has calmed down and gained her bearings enough to begin exploring the house. It is a large white house, abstract against the dark, black forest. Though the interior of the house is empty it is still finely detailed and tidy.

“Hello?” She calls out again, not realizing what had happened last time we called out to someone. Still no answer.

Isolation.

Then, after walking downstairs she finds a library, lit by a fireplace and oil lamps. It feels so warm and cozy, parallel to the cold and harsh world outside the home. Inspecting the books closely she notices one oddity about the library--the only one.

None of the books have titles or authors: They are all hard-bound and blank. She takes one off of the shelf and opens it up, reading aloud.

“Cat. Shovel. Firetruck. Skiing. Alfred. Turtle. Hydrogen. Periodic. Susannah...” She stops, confused. “What in the world?” She puts the book back and takes another from a different shelf.

“My father never loved my mother. He always called her by her middle name 'Margery' and she hated that. Once, when I was 8, I heard them arguing about my little brother. Something about an abortion...”

Rachel drops the book and holds her breath. That was a completely accurate description of her own parents. Once more she plucks a book from a different shelf at random.

“Mrs. Darge said the first bad word I've ever heard in class during 2nd grade. 'Shit'. The school fired her a week later and we got a new replacement teacher Mr. Newbrooks. He was my first interest in a boy.”

The book drops to the floor and Rachel steps back out of the library. Inside those books were pieces of her. Something in this house is wrong. Something in this world is wrong. She knows she's going through something very odd and magical.

She climbs upstairs and finds a queen bed, climbing inside. The blood on her arm dried and crusty, flaking off onto the sheets. The small cuts from the shattered glass on her back wet the mattress. But she still manages to sleep in this alien world.

[Admin]

Your story is wicked trippy. I like it.

[ProMetaAnaTelo]

Chapter 4

Static. White noise from the television after you've flipped too many channels. It clogs the room, immobilizing Rachel. She knows that blood drips from her wounds, but she cannot move to turn the static off. She wonders how it had turned on in the night, but that is not her main concern. The sheets under her are lightly stained with blood from the woods.

Rachel uses all of her might to crumple forwards and fall off the front of her bed. From there she inches out the door and drops down the stairs like a ragdoll, her strength returning as the sound of the T.V. is muzzled by the wall. Whimpering slightly, she slowly rises and steps towards her first aid-cabinet and begins cleaning her wounds cautiously.

“Where... where was I?” She wonders aloud. Rachel reaches for her phone and calls her father, now wrapping her gash with dressings.

“Rachel?”

“Dad...” She chokes. “I don't know what's going on anymore.”

“What's wrong?” He grunts.

“Dad, I had this horrible dream last night. I fell and cut my arm, but I woke up and my cut's real... I bled a lot.”

“Rachel, what are you talking about?”

“There's something wrong with me. I think... the treatments are making it worse.”

“You're bleeding?”

She pulls off her shirt and begins wrapping herself up around her torso, covering the scrapes from the glass.

“Yeah. From my dream.”

“I can't do anything now, but you better not leave that house! I'll... get you if you do.”

Rachel sobs silently as she hangs up the phone. To any stranger this conversation would seem odd, but to her it was her father being the monster he is.

When she was young, after Jamie moved away, her parents were in a car accident. Emily, her mother, was killed instantly. Her father, Harold, survived but suffered minor brain damage. He had once been a normal man, but when he came home to Rachel and her brother a month later he had changed.

The calm father they once knew became a paranoid boy who threw fits when things weren't going his way. Rachel once had a boy fall in love with her. Her father didn't like him, however, and never let her leave the house when he found out. Once the boy came to her window and serenaded her, like in the cheesy romance movies. Her father chased him off with a shotgun.

Rachel often defied his wishes, building a seed of anger in her father. When Rachel began developing schizophrenia in her later teens her father took advantage of her as often as possible. He would often sleep to the sound of radio static to make sure Rachel never tried to sneak out at night. He told her he set up cameras in the house to watch her while he was gone and she began to believe the cameras were actually there.

Rachel eventually moved out, living on rent for a house her brother owned but couldn't sell. The rent was cheap only for her so she could escape from their father. Her brother rarely speaks to her.

---

“Hello, Dr. Sigly?” She asks, after dialing his private number.

“Oh, yes. Rachel, how did you sleep?” He asks.

She takes a sip of her tea and swallows. “I want to ask you a question...”

“A question?”

“Have any other of your subjects experienced... dreams? Dreams after treatments.”

“Rachel, it's not odd to dream when you sleep.” He chuckles.
“No. Not like that. Dreams that feel real.”
“What do you mean?”
Rachel begins to tell her story to the doctor, but a beep interrupts her. An incoming call. She excuses herself and switches to the call on hold.

“Hello?”

“Rachel?

“...Hello?” She asks, curious to who is calling her.

“Don't trust that man.”

“Who is this?”

“Don't tell Dr. Sigly a thing!”

Rachel ends the call and switches back to Dr. Sigly.

“Sorry, about that. Anyways, I got up and felt the trees. They were... One second.”

She flips back over to the other caller. “Quit calling me!”

“Rachel, listen. You're not the only one having these dreams! Please, don't tell Sigly anything.”

“Who are you?”

“His work was favored by... 'collectors', and he was declared a genius. His work was selling for millions! My name's Garret. Listen, meet me at--.”

Rachel flips over to Sigly again. “Sorry, some weird guy keeps trying to call me. Anyways, The trees were black and dead. I wandered around and eventually found this... this monster. It looked like...”

“A wolf?”

“What? No. It looked like a person, somebody I used to kno-- One second again.”

Rachel flips back over to Garret. “If you call me one more time I'm calling the police!”

“Rachel. Don't say anything about the figure in the woods. Don't answer any of his questions. Please.”

“How do you know about the figure in the woods?”

“Rachel. We have to meet up, trust me. I can help you. Sigly is a monster.”

“Why should I trust--”

“Jamie. The figure was Jamie, but it wasn't. He was a monster and he dropped pearls as he walked. He screams like static.”

Rachel stops and stares blankly.

“Put the tea down, Rachel. Meet me at the park on your way to Sigly's.”

She puts her tea down, looking around for anyone outside.
“Okay...” She whispers, flipping back over to Sigly. “Doctor... I'll stop by your office soon, okay?”

“Okay, Rachel. I'll stay here until you show up...”

---

Rachel stands at the base of the stairs. Her plan is to scream to help block out the noise of the static, turn the T.V. off and escape with her car keys. Adjusting her stance and popping her knuckles she takes a deep breath and sprints up the stairs, screaming like a little girl. She gets to her room and her breath gives out as she dives for the television, smashing her jaw on the table.

Her eyes wet with tears as she lies on the floor, immobile. The noise too loud to even breath properly. Just the constant cracking and hissing of static from the white screen.

She struggles to sit up, almost succeeding before her elbows give out and she collapses again. Wheezing for air she gently claws at the table the T.V. sits on in a feeble attempt to turn off the noise. Her hand falls as she begins losing consciousness, smacking into a chord that unplugs the television completely.

A single sigh and she closes her eyes.

[Admin]

Honestly, I love this. I really do. It's one of my favorite contest stories we've had.

[ProMetaAnaTelo]

Thanks a lot.

I'm always worried about not coming across well to readers and how well my flow works. Like from sentence to sentence and chapter to chapter so it doesn't sound too choppy.

[ProMetaAnaTelo]

Chapter 5

Laughing children scurry around the playground, chasing each other with a bug or some other type of object causing fear. The youth resonates through the summer air. Rachel hasn't been out and about in quite a while, especially nowhere like a park.

Two mothers sit on a bench outside the playground gossiping about something. Rachel sits opposite them, twiddling her thumbs. She is the pasty, curly haired girl who stands out amongst the crowd, but somehow still fits in.

She begins to think about her childhood. Jamie was her only true friend. In school, after he moved, she met plenty of other girls, but they all turned out to be temporary or plastic. Jamie was the only person who really stuck around and cared about her, and she misses that. She misses having someone by her side when she needed there to be. Now she's become the stranger in the world, having no real friends or social activities to comfort herself.

Schizophrenia is to blame, of course. Who would want to talk to the girl who can't turn on the car radio, just in case they drive by a tree and she loses control of her body for just long enough to crash into a mailbox? Twice.

Garret would. Maybe. Rachel has been sitting in the park for nearly twenty minutes, waiting for the strange man on the phone to show up. She begins to wonder if the entire incident was just a result of her Schizophrenia getting worse. She could be hearing voices now, too. In fact, it's a wonder she hasn't already.

“Rachel.” A dirty hand pats her shoulder and she spins around to see who had said her name. Behind the park bench she sees a tall man wearing a tin-foil hat, covering a long rusty beard. A homeless person. She smiles, revealing his strangely white teeth. “A pleasure to meet you. I'm Garret.” He extends a hand.

Smiling in return, she scoots away from the dirty, outstretched palm and stands up. “We need to talk...”

“So it seems we do. Not here, though.” He turns to look into the bush. “Come. This way.” He says and scampers off into the brush. Rachel follows, uneasy. After a few moments of pushing around she comes out into a small clearing. The flat area was just big enough for a lean-to and a small fire and pot for cooking. An old, yellowed patio chair lays on its side next to the unlit firepit.

“Garret...”

“Not much.” He twitches. “Rachel, sit down.”

She takes the patio chair and sits in it, flicking off some old cobwebs from the arm. “How did you contact me.”

“Eden.”

She sighs, uncomfortable. “Eden...?”

“Now, I know I may look crazy but I know more about anything than anyone on Earth. Maybe.” Garret sits down on a rusty, metal stool. “Remember The Garden of Eden? You know... from the Bible?”

“Not really. I'm not the most religious person...”

He chuckles. “The Garden of Eden was the place where man first lived. There God put a man, Adam, and a woman, Eve. Eden was completely peaceful and innocent. Nothing was wrong there.”

“I don't understand how this relates to you finding me...”

“Shhhh.” He raises a mud-stained finger to his lips. “In Eden was a tree. A tree of Knowledge between Good and Evil. This was the tree that bore the fruit that gave man the ability to differentiate between right and wrong. There was also a snake in the garden-- an embodiment of fear. This snake tricked Eve into eating the fruit of the tree and teaching her right from wrong.”

“Okay.”

“Now, what if I told you Eden actually exists?”

“I don't know. I'm just not religious.”

“What if I told you that it's true Eden never existed?”

“Well, Garret. I wouldn't be sure. I've never been there so I guess I would believe you.”

He laughs out loud. “Now, what if I told you you've been to Eden? What if I told you... that Eden is in our brains?”

Rachel raises an eyebrow. Still uneasy, but growing more curious she humors him. “Explain.”


“Well, Rachel, you know what separates us from plants?”
“We're conscious. Right?”

“Exactly. And there's something that all conscious creatures share in common. A subconscious. Your brain is in your head, and your mind is there too. But your subconscious isn't. Your subconscious actually belongs to everyone.”

“What do you mean...?”

“Rachel, listen. Your subconscious actually is intertwined with everyone else. As you grow old that bond breaks, that string snaps, and you lose you consciousness. If you connected a plant to the subconscious then it would be alive like us. This connection is what makes life... life!

“Listen, Rachel. Your subconscious is Eden. It's a complicated structure tied in with our brain, connecting us all. In a sense, we are all one living creature. And that's not just people, either... No, animals too! We're all one being.”

She becomes completely intrigued now. “How did you find me?”

“With our Schizophrenia, we can connect to the subconscious in a tangible way. It becomes a place, just like it's described in the Bible. A place with specific characteristics. Your mind being an object there-- Tree of Knowledge. A fear embodied into a creature-- The snake. A greater power that ultimately is stronger than you-- God. These all exist in our Schizophrenic Edens. The dreams you've been having? That's Eden. That's you giving meat to the subconscious and exploring it.

“I, too, have dreamed like you of an Eden. My fear was a wolf instead of a childhood friend. I've been there and I've studied it. I've grasped Eden enough to really become one with the subconscious that connects us all together. This has let me crack into your mind, since you too have been to Eden. I know you, Rachel. I know you better than anyone else before. I promise.”

He laughs. “Garret... I....”

“Shh. It's a lot to comprehend, I know. However, you're young in the process. You're only able to enter Eden with the help of your... our doctor's help. Dr. Sigly... I was a patient of his, too. I was as near to normal as you, having only a few kinks to fix out. His experiment made my Schizophrenia so much worse. That's why you must not go to him. He will destroy you.

“However, I have a friend-- also a patient of Dr. Sigly-- who can help us. His name is Dr. Harlow and he has a way to get back into Eden.”

“I'm listening... where is he?”

Garret smirks. “I knew you would ask that.”

---

A large mansion, only a few miles from her house. Garret grabs the knocker and smacks it onto the door a few times. Rachel inspects the neatly trimmed hedge garden. Dr. Harlow must have a team of gardeners working on it around the summer.

“Doctor! Harlow, come on!” Garret yells, face pressed against the door so his sounds are muffled.

“You think he's out at the store or something?”

“No, trust me. He hasn't left in a while.” Garret clears his throat and bangs a few more times.

Then, out of the hedges, comes a gardener with peering eyes. “Sorry. Are you here to see Master Harlow?” He asks, putting the rusty hedge-clippers in his pocket.

“Yes, we are.” Garret chuckles to himself, elbowing Rachel. She pulls away, still not comfortable with the man in the tin-foil hat touching her.

“Very well, I'll go fetch the butler. He'll take you to Master Harlow.” With that he nods and smiles, walking into the house and closing the door behind him.

A few moments later the door creaks open to reveal a butler-- the sort you'd imagine in a classic movie-- with a suit jacket. “Hello. Yes, Master Harlow will see you now.” He smiles and Garret steps inside, taking off his hat and handing it to the butler.

The interior of the manor looks antique. She didn't know that a man this rich could live in the everyday town of Ohio. In the middle of the entrance room was a giant, white staircase leading to a second story. They ascend as Rachel takes notice of the striking similarities between the gardener and the butler. She wonders if, perhaps, they are brothers.

At the top of the staircase they wind around the walkway, the area filled with large and expensive paintings from times predating Rachel, and she takes her time to examine the plush carpet and the elegant railings. The room was gorgeous, different shades of crimson-red, wood-brown and dove-white.

The butler leads them into a room and the three of them walk in. The spacious room had fine tapestry-like rug before it met a fireplace and some chairs. A desk to one side, covered in thick books.

“Hello, my friends!” A thick, booming voice resonates in the cozy room. “Garret, I see you've brought your friend. Rachel?”

Rachel spins around to see a man, who looked very much like the gardener-- very much like the butler. At the entrance to the room sits the butler's jacket as well, looking like he had just dropped the coat and...

“What the hell?”

“Madame, sorry. Is something troubling you?”

“No. She's fine.” Garret laughs again, smacking her back. “Rachel, this is Anthony Harlow. He's a famous historian. And... a dabbler in psychology.”

“And a Schizophrenic?” She asks, disturbed.

“That's right, my dear. I'm also a patient of Dr. Sigly... or a former. Listen, I'll cut to the bare meat of the problem. I need you to do something for me, nothing that will hurt you Rachel, but something that must be done. You promise to do this and I can hook you up with some medicine and a sip of Eden whenever you want.” He smiles.

“What do you want me to do?” She asks, curious.

“Promise first. I assure you that you won't be hurt.”

Rachel pauses for a moment and sighs. “What could it hurt? Okay, I promise.”

“Good... You do me too well, Rachel.” Sometime in the conversation Garret had slipped off and retrieved some sort of equipment with electrical nodes. “Alright, sit in this chair.” Harlow says, raising his hand to one of the armchairs by the fireplace.

As Garret and Dr. Harlow hook Rachel up to the equipment Garret whispers to her. “Listen, when you wake up go down into the basement. I'll be there, waiting.”

“Where exactly?” She asks as they turn the machine on and Harlow hands her a sleeping pill.

“You haven't been downstairs yet. I don't quite know what it's like down there.”

---

Rachel rubs her eyes and sits up in the white room with peeling paint and exposed plaster. She rolls over and sighs in the ringing silence. Eden. She thinks to herself. This is Eden...

Eventually she climbs to her feet and begins her slow walk downstairs, through the strange library and down the dark staircase. Immediately she notices how cold and dark the lowest floor is. Dark enough, even, that she can't see clearly what's below.

“Hello?” She calls out, her soft voice swirling down the dark descent into nothingness. No sound.

She continues on and reaches the floor, scooting the long path down the hallway. Water drips from the ceiling onto her sleeve. Goosebumps rise from her flesh as the icy droplet slithers down into her hand.

Her foot hits a wooden door and she pulls it open. The hinges creak as torchlight pours into the concrete hallway. The room beyond the door is obviously a dungeon. Earthy wall with holes cut out and bars attached to act as cells and torches strewn the length of the hallway.

“Hello?” She calls again.

“Rachel.”

Scurrying past the empty cells Rachel finds Garret playing with something. He closes his hand and points to the chain cuffing his hand to the wall. She pulls the keys off of the rack next to Garret's cell and unlocks both the door and his wrist. Immediately he shoots up and grins, opening his palm. On his open hand crawls a spider.

Rachel flies back, horrified. “Garret, kill it! Why do you have that?”

He lets it down and the large, furry arachnid crawls away. “Rachel... have you seen any animals in Eden so far?”

She pauses and thinks. “No.”

“Come with me.”

The two of them ascend the staircase and come out into the first room, looking out the window Rachel had shattered in a panicked escape. Dead leaves cover the forest floor now, instead of the dark-gray dirt. Clouds, too, cover the sky. Water trickles through the forest somewhere, too. A little bit of nature was developing in Eden and no longer was it chalky trees and iced dirt.

“Okay, that's enough for now. You have to go and meet Sigly soon.”

She agrees, looking at the figure limping through the trees. Jamie.

Climbing back into the bed she slowly falls to sleep under the sound of squawking crows.

---

“Rachel wake up. Hurry!”

Rachel stirs in the armchair but doesn't wake.

“Harlow, you shouldn't have given her that pill. She'll be out all day now.”

“No she won't.” Dr. Harlow says, spilling a cup of water on Rachel's face. She flails and jumps out of the chair, squealing.

“Thank God, Rachel. Okay...”

Harlow holds up a hand to Garret's lips and hushes him. “Rachel. You promise me something for Eden. It'll be quick, I promise.” Harlow holds up a satchel-bag and hands it to her. Don't look inside until you've left my house. Trust me, it's better that way. When you find what's inside I think you'll know what I want you to do with it. What you'll do with it to Sigly.”

Rachel shifts her eyes to Garret who breaks eye-contact quickly and looks at the floor. Harlow shoos her out of the house and into the front yard, filled with hedges. The door slams behind her and she immediately looks into the satchel, curious as to why Harlow had pushed her out so quickly.

A sharp pain and Rachel drops the bag onto the concrete. Her middle finger drips a bit of blood. Rachel's heart stops and she looks back at the closed manor door.

Picking the bag up one more time she hold her breath and looks inside, hoping that what she thinks is in there isn't. Sadly, her first assumption was right.

In the bag lays a single, glistening knife.