Severed Ties

Chapter 1

1. THE AWAKENING

 

Dawn had broken in the new Millennium with the most spectacular sunrise ever witnessed – It was absolutely beautiful; a warm, almost unnatural orange glow began to surround the whole sky, or so it seemed. The sunrise, the witnessing of beauty in nature’s making, and, the unnatural sight of the warming orange blanket did happen. It was real.

It was 5:01 AM on the 1st January 2000. Dawn had broken the day had begun – So far so good. Or maybe it wasn’t at all good and well! Maybe the turn of the Millennium hadn’t worked out at all? The sunrise was real.

Could it have been that the daybreak had been some mere shimmer of the final, fading arriving light from a far off well dead planet somewhere out there in our vast, not yet fully explored universe? A planet that had died some ten million years ago, well before the development of man’s intelligence, or was the light that which originated from a time when the dinosaurs reigned alone across the Earth? The sunrise was real.

The city of Seacliffe had suddenly become deserted, still and silent. It was unlike the night before when nearing the stroke of midnight when there was a new century, a new dawn that was to start another one thousand years – A New Millennium – where all around the world people joined hands, cheered and counted down the last seconds of 1999. Nobody would have suspected a thing.

By the time the orange blanket fell away to reveal a different kind of sky, signs of life began to spill out of nearby buildings; houses, tower blocks, shopping complexes, even police and fire stations from all over the city. The sunrise was so real.

One by one, two by two, three by three…people…lots of people were in a state of euphoric fear! This was no dream, nor was it a nightmare of a once forgotten misplaced childhood experience. This was true fear. It was real!

One by one after the orange blanket had disappeared, people gathered in their masses to feel, taste, smell and share the reality of living. But then, what was the feel, taste and the smells of reality? How would anyone be able to prove that this wasn’t the workings of a twisted dream?

Nobody said a word, not one single word. Everyone was as scared as the next person. All of them there at that moment in time looked so weak, skinny and afraid. The sight almost resembling that of a plane crash site, but without the aftermath debris and twinkling of blue lights from the Emergency Services.

Appearing out of nowhere a young man stepped forward of the crowd and shook his head in disbelief and denial of what was going on around him. “This is not real! This is not real, this is not happening!” He shouted out at everyone. And just as he had finished shouting, he seemed to vanish into thin air without a trace.

The orange sky had given way to the mixed primary colours, yellow in contrast with bright sparkling tints of silver speckles that glimmered and danced like stars in the otherwise clear morning sky. It was at this moment that Ralph Freeman-Caine looked up and saw the changing sky, when a single straying thought burned itself deep inside his mind.

  “What of tomorrow?” The words whispered inside his head.

Delving deep inside his mind’s eye to search for the meaning of the question, or indeed the source of the suggestion, Caine could not think of an answer. To him the words meant nothing. This was neither that of a question or a popular saying that he could remember or which he found familiar.

  “What of tomorrow?” The imprinted words called out in the back of his mind once again. It was now that he became overwhelmed and confused. What had happened? Why was the turn of the new Millennium so different from any other New Year? Was he living a nightmare that he found so hard to bring himself out of? Surely, if he was having a bad dream, there would be something happening by now that would have awoken him?

From across the street a sound of a woman’s screams broke his train of thought, making him respond automatically by breaking into a mad dash to investigate. On entering a side alley across the street where he had stood he turned around continuously with the utmost caution, looking for evidence of somebody who was in trouble. But at first he found nothing.

Giving up on the search he turned back to the street where he had ran from and began to make his way back out of the alley. It was then that he was confronted by a dishevelled, middle aged, dark haired woman who, on first impressions looked a little more perturbed, scared and upset as the others who stood across the way from them.

  “Are you OK?” Caine asked.

The woman shrieked with spine tingling laughter. “I’m not pure enough!”

  “Excuse me, what did you say?”

  “They said that I’m not pure enough. They say that my soul is not fresh and that my blood has become corrupted. It’s contaminated.” The woman gasped looking coldly into his eyes.

Breaking into a cold sweat he became filled with sudden fear.

  “Who do you mean by They?”

  “Why don’t you talk to them? If you tell them that my soul is fresh they might take me with them. Please, talk to them?”

Now the fear was clearly visible on his face, especially to the woman. To Caine this whole thing felt weird, if not very wrong.

  “You over there, what are you doing?” A rough shaven looking man shouted from the far end of the alley.

Making his way down to Caine, the scared woman ran away and out of the alley, disappearing from sight. Caine, however, stood his ground.

  “Are you mad?” The stranger cried out looking around cautiously.

  “I am far from mad! Scared shitless, maybe,” Caine replied stepping back a bit from the stranger.

Making sure that nothing or nobody was around the stranger turned to face him. It was at that moment that Caine realised that the man had concern in his eyes. Like that look someone gives you when they know that standing beside you, is the person who is more likely to hit you over the head with an axe without even thinking twice about it.

  “Listen to me very carefully, because what I’m about to tell you may save your life. Things around here aren’t all they seem!” The stranger said.

  “Christ, you can say that again”

  “OK, thing’s around here aren’t what they seem!” The stranger repeated.

Caine laughed nervously. “I didn’t mean for you to…Oh, forget it. What in the hell’s going on here?”

The stranger scanned both the entrance and exit of the alleyway again, before turning back to Caine.

  “We are not alone!”

Caine, too, now looked toward the entrance and exit of the alleyway before he was stopped by the strangers raised hand grabbing him urgently by the chin.

  “I don’t mean people, buddy!” The stranger whispered carefully.

Hoping that he had misheard the strangers’ statement, he started to walk away quickly while shaking his head from side to side in disbelief.

  “You’re crazy, man, just like that mad bitch that ran away.”

Running after Ralph, the stranger grabbed out at him by the arm and wrestled him to the ground, gagging his loud objections with a firm hand over his mouth and calming him down.

  “I know that you think that I’m some kind of fruit cake. But you really don’t know what’s going on out there, do you?” The stranger spoke, his voice sounding more serious.

Pushing himself clear of the stranger, Caine put his hand up in the air ready to defend himself from any further handling from the man.

  “My name is Marvin Poyndexter,” he said, finally introducing himself.

  “Well, Marvin, excuse me if I don’t greet you with open arms, but the whole world has just taken a turn for the worse. Now that is something I really think is crazy, OK?”

Poyndexter rose to his feet and holding out a helpful hand to Caine, he helped him up off of the ground. Dusting himself down of the alley dirt, he turned to Caine and stared at him for a moment or two before shaking his head from side to side.

  “Listen to me. In a couple of hours’ time you…”

  “Hang on a second! You’re an American!”

  “All American, just the way I like it,” Poyndexter laughed.

Looking around him and the stranger once again, Caine realised something very odd and upsetting. His heart suddenly began to beat faster, more forceful, as though it was about to explode with the greatest strain put onto it with anxiety.

  “Where am I? How in the hell did I get here?” Caine demanded.

  “Hey, relax,”

  “Don’t you fucking dare tell me to relax, Mister? Where am I?”

  “Listen. In a couple of hours’ time you are going to experience something that you’ll probably misunderstand…Don’t. It happened to me, it’ll happen to you too…”

  “Well, I’d say it has already happened by the looks of things here, wouldn’t you, or would you say that sky passing over us is a pretty normal thing where you come from, Mr Poyndexter?”

The stranger took out a cigarette and began explaining to Caine what exactly was going on around the city. By the time he had finished, the scared man now showed signs of more confusion. Far back in his mind, Caine found one piece of information not yet mentioned.

  “What of tomorrow? What does that mean?” He asked.

The stranger shook his head at first, then lifted a flat palm to his face and started slapping it against his forehead, hard.

 “When you wake up in your nice warm bed this morning, you will see something that would turn many other people into stone. If you want to live, remember this one thing; doors swing both ways, my friend. To open this door they will trick you into saying three simple little words…”

  “What of tomorrow!” Canine interrupted and finished the sentence.

  “Yes. It is not as though we weren’t warned about all this, because as far back as the world can remember the prophecy has always been there. One thing that has never come to pass though is that the prophecy was true all along. We are and never have been alone…And I’m not talking about little green men. I’m not talking science fiction, but more like science fact, man, with a little bit of a twist!” Poyndexter stressed.

  “So you said. I just can’t believe that something you’ve obviously read in a book maybe or what somebody has told you could have happened. I’m sorry if I sound a little sceptical here, but, I believe only what I see with my own eyes, and it’s quite obvious that I’m the only one person around here with a clear mind.” Caine disagreed strongly.

Shrugging his shoulders and giving up trying to explain, Poyndexter turned and walked away from him, disappearing from the alleyway and leaving him alone in his confusion.

Desperately trying to make sense of the whole thing, Caine thought hard about what Poyndexter had told him in regards to him waking up in his bed that morning. If this whole thing was real, then why would he be waking up in his own bed at home? Was there something that the stranger was holding back on? All he knew was that he had to find out before he went completely insane.

Confused, tired and scared, he made his way back to the place where it had all started. The place where he had emerged from the crowd before he heard the woman’s screams, before rushing over to the alleyway to investigate.

Looking around the street he noticed that everyone had disbanded, many had disappeared, while others were hiding in doorways and sitting on sidewalks, crying into their hands and shaking in fear.

  “The world is dying…they said that it would begin like this! They warned us all, but like always, we didn’t listen and now, now we’re all going to suffer the pain of the dying world!” A young, well-dressed man stammered out between sobs.

  “They warned us!” Caine exclaimed.

  “Wh…! What?” The man spoke, looking deep into Caine’s eyes and realising that somebody was stood in front of them listening.

  “You said THEY warned us. Who warned us?” Caine asked crouching down next to the man, looking around regularly with caution as he did so.

  “You know! You’ve seen them!” The man gasped out, “When you walk into a dark room, down a dim lit street or darkened corridor that is where they are. They are the darkness. They are the shadow within the shadow of a soothing unearthly breeze that calls to us when we are filled with pure raw fear.”

Concluding that the man was rambling on about something only he himself knew about, Caine rose to his feet again and began walking away toward a tall office block that was situated behind the rambling man sat on the pavement.

  “They won’t look for you during the daylight. You must leave this city and warn the others, if they know of their return they can find a way to destroy them all, forever!” The rambling man shouted out.

Saying nothing, Caine continued on, entering the building and looking around the lobby for signs of life. Looking for somebody that wasn’t like the man outside, Poyndexter or the mad woman in the alleyway. No, he was looking for someone who obviously wasn’t delirious with the hot heat of the rising sun.

  “Are you one of the contaminated one’s?” A tall thin man suddenly called out from behind him.

Turning sharply Caine caught sight of the man and looked at him with suspicion, as the man held a gun in his hand, which was pointed right at Ralph’s head with a clear shot.

  “It’s OK, my name is Simon Stone, I’m of no threat to you,” the man introduced himself, lowering the weapon.

  “Do you know what’s going on outside?” Ralph asked quietly.

  “Yes,” Stone answered bowing his head.

  “Thank Christ for that! My name is Ralph Freeman-Caine,” He laughed nervously and started approaching the stranger.

  “Well, Mr Freeman-Caine, are you one of the contaminated one’s?” Stone asked again, only this time his voice was raised a little higher.

Stone walked up to a very uneasy looking Caine, who was now standing by the main reception desk glancing around, as though he was half expecting someone else to jump out at him.

  “To tell you the truth, Simon, I have no idea what this contamination means. I thought that this was just one big fucked up dream. That was before I sat down and talked with this guy outside,” Caine announced on conceding to near defeat.

Stone laughed out loudly. “But this is one big fucked up dream, Ralphy boy! Everything you see here is an illusion.”

  “This is no dream, this is real!” Caine shouted in objection, “The sunrise was real, I saw it! I saw the sunrise, the coloured sky, I saw everything and it was all real!”

Stone gave a sympathetic smile. “What you saw, my friend was no sunrise. The coloured sky the woman in the alley, the man that you talked with. That was all part of a dream. A nightmare that your mind perceived as being real, but all this time it never was.” Simon claimed.

Caine stared at him with disbelief, and yet, at the same time he was becoming more and more confused and paranoid about this place that he was in. Somehow, something was wrong with the surroundings. Something told him he wasn’t supposed to be there.

  “But the sunrise was real. The woman in the alleyway, she was real. The man I talked with, Marvin Poyndexter, he was real, too, just like you and me,” Caine cried, defending what he had seen with his own eyes.

  “Marvin Poyndexter!”

  “Ha, see! That’s pissed on your bonfire, didn’t it? Poyndexter is real.”

Stone nodded his head from side to side before walking quietly to a nearby window and looking through the dirty glass into the street outside.

  “When you talked with Poyndexter, what exactly did he tell you?”

  “Far more than you’re telling me now, buddy. Why?”

  “Oh, nothing, it’s just that Marvin Poyndexter is the most convincing liar you could ever meet anywhere in this world. Did he tell you the three little words that you must never say when awake? Did he tell you about his wife and son who were killed by so called Phantoms that hide away deep in the darkening shadows?” Stone enquired.

Amazed by the amount of information that this stranger knew about him and Marvin, he thought that maybe he was somehow connected to this whole thing. Caine brushed both hands through his hair then brought them down to rest on his hips. And it was at that moment that Stone turned to smile at him in a strange way.

  “Who the hell are you, Stone?” Caine demanded in a dry tone.

  “Before you go from this place, Mr Ralph Freeman-Caine, remember that all nightmares have one or more meaning. By day your dreams are safe, but come the night, when the nightmares call your name in the whispering cold breeze, you’ll know my name and the name of this place that will soon be that of your home. It will be then that you know of the journey that’s ahead of you.” Stone spoke as if possessed.

  “You’re as mad as those fools out there. What is it that’s happened here? Is it some kind of insanity disease that’s going around the city?” Caine scowled with contempt, turning to the door to leave the building.

  “Don’t you find it strange sometimes, when you’re in a state of dream and yet so near to wake? You know, the fading background, fading faces, the draining colour and approaching dark veil before the first breaks of light come to your opening eyes.”

Caine stopped suddenly. “What?”

  “Think about it! If you live in Yorkshire, then how can it be that you are here on the Storm Island, or to be more specific, inside Seacliffe City? Do you remember travelling? How did you get here? Where’s your wife? Was the sunrise as real for you as it was for me? Was it real, Ralph?” Stone asked throwing so many questions him quickly.

Caine’s eyes suddenly began to feel heavy, his vision blurry, and his head growing with excruciating pain as though someone was stood behind him with both hands pushing and squeezing at his skull. The room in which he and Stone stood in was suddenly beginning to distort, twist and bend out of all natural shape. A moment later Caine staggered awkwardly across the light blue coloured carpet under his feet to a nearby chair. Slumping down into it he looked at Stone, and with half focused vision, confusion and a doubt filled mind, he tried hard to speak out to the now slow approaching familiar looking man.

  “You’re…You’re…

  “Sleep my friend, sleep,” Stone whispered as he leant over him.

As the energy from Caine’s body drained from him, the vision of the room and everything else around him disappeared. It was slowly replaced by the dark curtain of his inner mind before he drew his head up quickly from the soft, sweat-soaked pillow of his bed. Gasping for breath he glanced around him to make sure that he was safe. That he was away from that place he’d just been.

  “What’s wrong, love? Is it another bad dream?” His wife, Sarah asked with great concern in her voice.

Catching his breath the best way he could, he threw back the bed covers and clambered out of bed onto the icy cold wooden floor. Making his way to the foot of the bed under his wife’s worried gaze, he stared at her barely visible expression by the stray light of the rising morning sun that seeped through the thin blue curtains of the bedroom window.

  “Love, are you alright?” His wife asked, attempting to get out of bed herself to join him.

  “I…I don’t know, but, I can’t go back to sleep…I…I’ll go downstairs and make a start on breakfast.”

  “But it’s only twenty-five past five! Come back to bed, please.”

Caine shook his head in absolute refusal to his wife’s request and proceeded to leave the room, closing the door behind him he walked down the steep stairs while in deep thought of his uneasy experience. Reaching the bottom he quickened his pace and was finally in the kitchen doorway. By 6am, Sarah had washed, dressed and joined her husband in the kitchen for breakfast. Ralph was standing in front of the coffee maker looking out of the kitchen window as if in a daze.

  “Do you know there’s no cereal left?” He informed a tired looking wife.

  “Forget about the cereal, Ralph, come over here and sit down.” She demanded, patting her hand down on the seat next to her.

Caine clattered around the work tops, tore open doors with pure frustration and in a fit of anger due to finding no cereal to put in the blue patterned dish, he threw the fragile bowl into an empty sink. Smashing into pieces on impact, Sarah yelled out an almost deafening scream. “Ralph!”

Breaking down in tears, Caine steadied himself with one hand against the work top, while with the other he lowered himself down beside the loose chippings of bowl on the floor.

  “I can’t handle you anymore, Ralph! What the hell is wrong with you? Is it me? Is it your job? Tell me what your problem is?” She begged.

Moving from the work tops he sat himself down at the table opposite his wife, wiping his tears away from his face.

  “I’m losing my bloody mind!” He sobbed.

  “No you’re not, don’t be daft!” Sarah disagreed with a smile, stretching a hand across the table to take hold of her husbands.

Looking into her eyes coldly for a moment before realising that her words were to keep him from hitting the very rock bottom of depression, Caine gave a strained, perky smile. Knowing in his heart that Sarah was trying to comfort him and help him in any way, he held out a trembling hand, until finally meeting Sarah’s in the middle of the table.

  “I’m sorry you must think I’m a right fool!”

  “Hey! Sssshhh. Nobody’s thinking that you’re a fool, Ralph, especially not me. I am so tired of being shut out all the time that I don‘t know when your ill and when you’re not yourself,” She revealed giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

  “Is that what you think I’m doing, shutting you out?”

  “That’s what it feels like, yes,”

  “Well, I’m sorry you feel that way, but there are things going on here that you couldn’t even begin to understand.”

  “So why don’t you talk to me, let me decide whether or not I understand?” Sarah whispered.

For a whole hour Ralph sat and explained the vivid dream state he had to his wife, giving details of the sun rise, the zombie-like people, the screaming woman, Poyndexter and Stone. By the end of his story, both he and Sarah sat silently for what seemed like an eternity.

  “I’m no expert on these things, but, did I hear that many of our dreams and nightmares are a form of repressed memories, or in Laymen’s terms, our dreams are made up of thoughts, memories and, or our experiences of any time past. From as early as the day before, to as far back as child-hood, take your pick.” Sarah finally spoke up.

  “Whatever it was, Sarah, it’s scared the hell out of me. Maybe I better go and see Dr Jackson, just to make sure I’m not losing my marbles!” Ralph looked to his wife for her to agree.

  “I’d be very surprised if you didn’t go and see somebody on a professional level, if only to get some sleeping pills. But remember this, I’m here to help, not add more problem’s to your life.”

Giving a wide smile Ralph stood up, kissed Sarah on the cheek and said his goodbyes as he left to go to work.

The normal hustle and bustle of going to work consisted of a cold engine, road works, traffic jams, suicide jumpers, road rage killers and the attempt at beating the world’s land speed record just to get there quicker. And on that particular day when Ralph set off to his office in the city centre, the journey was more than interesting.

  “Jesus Christ! Don’t you know your right from your left?” Ralph cried out of his car door window as loud as he could to a driver cutting in front of him.

Driving down the inside lane to get onto the interchange road to the city, Ralph was suddenly finding himself surrounded by swarm upon swarm of bad drivers. Cars from in front and behind all slammed their breaks on, as one by one they gradually made their way to Ralph’s car and bumped the front bumper. The alarm triggered itself automatically due to the on-board computer under the bonnet being damaged, which in sequence killed the car’s engine and switched off all electrical components.

  “If I ever get the chance to…”

In front of Ralph’s car a small, grey haired old man stood staring through the windscreen straight at him. The sheer terror that filled the old man’s eyes had Ralph’s skin crawling with the heeby geebies.

  “Go back! Go back while you still can!” The old man shouted.

Turning away from Ralph’s car the old man walked off into the motorway flyover edging, and once here he threw himself from the highest point of the bridge onto the busy road below. Ralph looked on in disbelief, as the old man he had just had a shouting from, just threw himself off the bridge and into a fast moving queue of speeding cars down below on the slip road.

Not wanting to be late for work, Ralph turned the car around and made his way to the first link road into the suburbs. From the North West he could gain at least fifteen minutes off his journey, and from there, he could stop off at the drive-in and still make up for lost time. Here, too, at the drive-in the change in strangeness hadn’t ended. While waiting for the car in front to finish getting an order, a young girl passenger looked from the back window directly at him. At first Ralph registered her anxious waves, but then couldn’t help but notice that the young girl’s nose, eyes, ears and mouth were streaming with blood.

  “Jesus Christ!” He gasped, unbuckling his seat belt and jumping out of the car.

The screams of the girl had quickly alerted her parents sat in the front of the car, and with the loud sound the drive-in staff members scrambled to the window to see what was the matter.

  “He’s inside my head! He’s inside my head!” Were the only words the young girl could shout, it was after this that she fell unconscious.

  “We’ll get her to a hospital as fast as we can,” the father spoke up.

Everyone around the car agreed before watching the car drive off into the main street and disappear among the thick morning traffic.

By the time Ralph got into work he had eaten his way through two large burgers, three bags of fries and drank four cups of coffee, which at the best of times he could never manage.  On this one particular morning, however, the food gave him great comfort. And, even though it sickened him to think of the man that had committed suicide in front of him, he still continued to savour the taste of the food until he had finished it all.

Arriving in at work almost ten minutes later than usual his secretary asked if he was OK, to which Ralph demanded why she wanted to know? Taken aback by the sudden barking by her normally sensitive and kind boss, she began to get upset by his harsh words.

  “I’m sorry, Mr Caine, I was just asking…”

  “The wrong bloody question, that’s what you were asking” he replied angrily.

  “I don’t understand!” She sobbed.

Ralph waved his hand in a gesture for her to get on with her work while he went into his office and prepared for any incoming calls. The secretary did as she was told until he had disappeared inside his office and closed the door behind him then she picked up the phone and called Sarah, Ralph’s wife to make sure she was alright. Sarah told her that she was fine and apologised on behalf of her husband, explaining the situation the best she could without making out that her husband was going stir crazy.

Inside Ralph’s office he sat with his two top shirt buttons undone, while sitting back with a large double shot of brandy in a glass looking out of his fifth floor window into the city outside.

  “Bloody stress will be the end of me.” He whispered into his glass.

After just a few minutes in his office the phone rang out on his desk.

  “Hello, Ralph Freeman-Caine speaking,”

  “Good morning, I would like to book an appointment for some time in the afternoon, if that is possible?” A man’s voice answered.

Reaching out for his diary on the edge of the desk Ralph accidentally pushed it forward a little too much and set it crashing down onto the floor. As a quick attempt to stand up and retrieve it, the voice on the other end of the phone told him to stop where he was. Ralph froze.

  “Excuse me?” Ralph whispered.

  “Don’t bother picking it up, Ralph, just give me a time that I can call around to see you.” The voice instructed.

  “Who is this? Who are you?”

  “You already know who I am, Ralph, shall we say one O’clock sharp?”

Before Ralph could say anything else the caller hung up the phone. This was a little perturbing for Ralph, to say the least, as he had appointments for later that afternoon already booked. However, what was more worrying at that point was the fact that the man did not leave his name, and yet, he knew exactly who he was by the sound of his voice – Stone. But how could it be? Simon Stone was a part of his nightmare in the dreamscape world that he had been dreaming about that very morning, so how could someone he had never met physically become real all of a sudden?

Ringing his wife and explaining the strange call he had received just moments ago, Sarah advised him to come home early and close the office for the rest of the day, but Ralph couldn’t do it.

  “What if this is a legitimate client, Sarah? What if I don’t see this man and it turns out to be a major new contract?” He begged his wife to consider.

  “Then he will get back in touch with you, won’t he? Did you manage to get an appointment to see Doctor Jackson?” She asked, half expecting an answer.

Ralph fell silent for a few minutes before sitting back in his seat with a sigh.

  “No. Not yet, but I will ring as soon as I hang up from talking with you.”

With that Sarah told him to get an appointment and come home. She then hung up the phone and resumed her household chores that she was doing before Ralph had rung her.

Contacting Doctor Jackson’s office secretary and asking for an appointment as soon as possible, Ralph was surprised to hear that there was an early cancelation within the hour and asked if he could make it? Ralph agreed and left the office to tell his secretary, Mary, that he was closing the office early and that she could go home.

  “Are you firing me?” She gasped suddenly.

Ralph was beside himself with confusion. “What?”

Again, Mary asked if he was sacking before elaborating on the fact that he had been unhappy with her questioning him that morning as soon as he entered the office. And with a little smile he handed her the office keys.

  “If I was firing you, Mary, it would have to be for a better reason than you asking me if I was alright! I’ll see you tomorrow, OK?” Ralph replied.

Leaving the building alone Ralph made his way downstairs in the elevator before making a quick exit from the building and over the road to where his car was parked outside the Ideal Delicatessen. Jumping into his car he set off to the Doctor’s surgery that was all of ten minutes’ drive away.

  “Good morning, Mr Caine, Doctor Jackson will see you in a few moments, if you would take a seat for now, please.” The polite young secretary informed him with a gentle smile.

Sitting down in the reception area Ralph glanced around at all the others who were waiting for to see the Doctors that were on call there, with Doctor Jackson being just that of a partner, he had more than five other GP’s under his name.

After waiting only a couple of minutes Doctor Jackson came walking out with a young woman in toe, her mannerisms showing to be more than that of a patient and Doctor relationship, more of a personal interest than medical.

  “Ah, Ralph, come through into the office.”

Ushering him into his office, Doctor Jackson waited until Ralph had sat down before taking a seat himself. After getting his medical records up onto the computer he turned to him with a smile.

  “Now, what can I do for you this morning, Ralph? Are you feeling OK?”

Looking at the Doctor as though he was a little agitated, Doctor Jackson sat back in his chair and put a hand up in the air. “Sorry, please, how can I help?”

Ralph explained the events of his sleep before asking the Doctor if there was anything that he could prescribe him besides sleeping pills.

  “Not really, Ralph, you see the sleeping pills will certainly help you sleep a restful night, but what seems to be wrong with you is a surge in your brain! Not to be confused with tumours and growths, but more to do with a very vivid and powerful over-imagination.” Doctor Jackson explained.

Ralph didn’t understand what the Doctor was talking about. At the very least, with Doctor Jackson bringing vivid imagination into the conversation, would be this that the Doctor was trying to tell him was his problem? Or was it a case that he was indeed going mad?

  “Allow me to put it another way, Ralph. You have an overclocked imagination that is affecting your sleep pattern, nothing more than a healthy mind, except, when you dream the imagination is running away from the many trigger points where your mind gives you the command to wake up. What we need to do is make sure that these trigger points are put back into place, but certainly giving you sleeping pills will not solve your sleeping problems.” Doctor Jackson explained more clearly.

Ralph sat and listened to the Doctor, his body feeling uncomfortable at times.

  ”What about your diagnosis, where exactly does that leave me?”

  “In my professional opinion what you need is a holiday…a long holiday, Ralph, with plenty of activities included. Go for a cruise around the world, something that will keep your mind occupied and cool down the imagination of stress that is overshadowing the decisions you make while you sleep.”

This sounded all well and good to Ralph, especially as he had the attitude where it was HE who was suffering this unnatural force of surreal invasion within his dreams that turned them into hellish nightmares.

  “A holiday, you say? OK, so I take a vacation and come home, but what if the nightmares continue? Can they harm me?” Ralph asked.

Asking him to take off his jacket and shirt, Doctor Jackson began looking him over; first checking Ralph’s pulse, blood pressure, then checked his chest, arms and back. It was on looking at his back that the Doctor became a little more than concerned, as he found large patches of bruising along Ralph’s shoulder blades, ribs and elbows.

  “Have you had a fall lately, Ralph?”

  “No, not that I recall” Ralph replied.

  “These bruises are fresh. Are you sure you haven’t fallen in the last twenty-four hours?”

Ralph cleared his mind and began to recall his nightmare the night before.

  “In my nightmare last night I dreamt that American jumped on me. Surely it couldn’t have been from that!” Ralph shook his head in an attempt to put the thought right out of his head.

Doctor Jackson had already made his opinion on the subject visible by also shaking his head from side to side and adding a tut occasionally.

  “There are some reports of ‘Victims of Sleep’ awakening to the markings similar to those which they have dreamt about, even though there is no conclusive evidence to back these findings. I would suggest fixing the bruises for you before I let you go, Ralph.”

Thinking no more about it, Ralph was given the all clear before leaving the doctors surgery and making his way home. On his way he stopped at a set of traffic lights on the Old Road; once the main road to Bobby’s Bridge and the extension to the Mainland. Now, it was half the size and most of it closed due to severe accidents which eventually closed it down from Public Access.

While sitting at the traffic lights he happened to look over his right shoulder and directly into a book shop window where upon a small table sat a single large leather bound book on its own, the cover was tarnished as though worn, but other than that, it was just a normal looking book. Becoming impatient by the lack of sequence in the changing lights, he suddenly decided to push up on his indicator lever, before turning his car into the side street and behind the bookshop.

Parking up his car directly behind the book shop he glanced around the quiet car park area then walked on slowly out from the side street and onto the Old Road to look through the window at the book that had caught his attention. It looked old, expensive maybe. There was no price visible as to how much it was being sold for, however it did have a little note attached to the top left hand corner.

The note read: This is Volume 3 of a 12 Volume Set. If you would like to own this Volume, then please contact Miriam Alderton on 269536. Anyone who possesses the other Volumes please contact Charles Alderton on 276787.

Walking inside the bookshop Ralph noticed the traditional bell which rang out loudly above the door as he entered before moving forward into the dim lit ground floor room. All around him he saw books of all shapes, sizes and colours, even the odd magazine which almost certainly predated the Second World War. Finally, he reached the counter where there didn’t seem to be anyone around, until he turned to look around the shop again for signs of an owner or assistant sorting or arranging any the books on the shelves.

“Good morning,” a hoarse sounding voice called from behind the counter.

Turning around quickly, Ralph looked into the face an old man that seemed to be having trouble with a large stack of books that he carried in his arms. Seeing that the man was about to drop several of them on the floor, he immediately rushed around the desk and grabbed them as they began to drop.

  “Thank you, I didn’t see that they were falling. Thank you very much for helping me.” The bookshop owner spoke up.

  “That’s quite alright.” Ralph replied with a strained smile.

Placing the rest of the books onto the counter and arranging the piles again so that they wouldn’t tip and fall over again, the owner straightened his jumper before taking a deep breath then released it in a long sigh.

  “Sorry about that, now, how can I be of service?” He asked.

  “The book in the window, I know it says to contact the lady who owns it, but I was wondering if you could tell me what the title is? I’ve looked at the front cover and there doesn’t seem to be a title anywhere on its face or spine.”

The bookstore owner started to laugh, almost insanely at the question that Ralph had asked. This did not make him feel the least bit comfortable.

  “Miriam Alderton is not the owner of the book, my good friend! Nobody owns Severed Ties…it chooses its owner!” He said, finally calming his laughter.

Ralph was confused. “The note on the book…”

  “The note on the book is a legal guideline that permits me to get rid of the damn thing, if you know what I mean?”

  “No, no I don’t know what you mean. I’m a solicitor and I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Ralph snapped back at the man.

Reaching an arm under the counter the man lifted a dusty sack cloth covered object and placed it in front of them. The cloth which covered the object within was almost worn completely thin by its age, as was a lightened ribbon which had been wound around the cloth to secure its protection from any external damage.

  “This is the book that you are interested in, Mr Freeman-Caine!”

Immediately, Ralph jumped back with a start at the man knowing who he was without being introduced. The man stared at his abrupt behaviour before he began to smile and put out a trembling hand upon the cloth.

  “I am so sorry, Mr Freeman-Caine, please forgive my ignorance. We met last year at your office when I was thinking of selling this old place, of course, now my decision to keep it has left me with very few options.” The owner began to explain, to which Ralph was then relieved at the fact they had indeed met previously.

  “I’m sorry you just surprised me, I didn’t realize we had met.”

The old man put up a poised hand. “That’s quite alright, Mr Freeman-Caine, it was my fault for not mentioning it sooner. Now about the book that you are interested in buying”

  “Yes, is that it there?”

The old man looked down for a moment before looking back up at Ralph.

  “Yes, and unfortunately, I cannot touch it, Mr Freeman-Caine. It has quite a remarkable tradition behind it which insists on the person wishing to buy it being the only one who may hold it in their hands. You see, the book, which according to legend was written more than three hundred years ago. The one who wrote it was very young, and his endeavours to finish the volumes were sometimes thwarted by town’s folk referring to him as a witch! It was after the completion of the first volume that he, again, according to legend placed one of the ‘forbidden spells’ upon the book. As time went by tradition tells of the book choosing its owner, rather than the person wanting the book to own it. ”

This was so strange sounding, so absurd, that Ralph took hold of the cloth covered object before him and started unwrapping it with haste. Once he had uncovered the book he held it in front of the old man with a victorious smile.

  “There it’s all just superstitious mumbo jumbo.” Ralph mocked.

  “Congratulations, Mr Freeman-Caine, now all you have to do is find out whether or not the book wants you or not! It’s quite a simple procedure.” The owner exclaimed taking hold of the sack cloth and spreading it out across the counter neatly.  This took the smirk straight off of Ralph’s face, as when he looked down upon the cloth to see what appeared to be dried blood soaked into the fabric. And, by the look on the owners face it was Ralph’s blood that was definitely on his mind.

  “Are you ready Mr Freeman-Caine?”

  “Is that what I think it is?” Ralph asked wearily.

  “It’s the tradition of the book’s keeper to offer something in return for its services, Mr Freeman-Caine, there’s really no need to be alarmed by the tradition…it’s not as though it will kill you.” The owner laughed.

Ralph could have turned and walked out of that book store right there and then, but deep down inside he knew that he wouldn’t. It was nothing to do with any supernatural influence or owner attachment to the book itself, but of his growing need to have ownership of it and discover that which others have found within the pages. The unknown attraction to the leather bound book was almost discoverable in why it was drawing him to doing exactly what the shop owner was asking him to do – to draw a little blood that would either bind or reject his union to the manuscript.

  “OK, pass me a pin or needle and I will personally give you a drop of my blood for the sake of this ridiculous tradition, Mr…”

The shop owner gave a short giggle before grabbing hold of Ralph’s right hand and pulling it firmly toward his chest, while at the very same time he took from under the counter a long bladed, ivory handled knife that had three luminous blue sapphires encrusted in its shaft. The blade flashed for a second with the small inlet of light that shone through the book store window, as slowly the owner brought it into position over Ralph’s palm before looking up at his perturbed looking face.

  “For this we need more than a simple drop of blood, Mr Freeman-Caine, more than a thimble full, but less than a cup. And so that we may be known to one another before and after the ceremony, my name is Charles Alderton.”

With a quick introduction now complete he pressed down steadily on the handle of the knife, slicing into the thin tender skin of Ralph’s palm before sliding the razor sharp edging of the blade across in an almost straight line. A couple of seconds later and Ralph’s open skin begin weeping with darkened coloured blood, the stinging sensation of the open wound making Ralph wince and attempt to pull away his hand. Charles held it firm and steady before instructing him to clench his hand into a fist over the sack cloth on the counter.

  “I think you’ve cut too deep, Mr Alderton, the bleeding won’t stop!” Ralph exclaimed looking into the old man’s sudden crazed filled eyes.

  “Nearly done, Mr Freeman-Caine…just a little more, there, all finished.”

Looking down at the cloth Ralph saw that the blood which had dripped from his hand and soaked the fabric was now drying up quickly.

  “How is it doing that?” Ralph gasped.

  “Don’t worry, it’s quite normal” the old man replied.

  “Normal in some other world maybe, but from where I’m standing it is kind of weird, Mr Alderton.”

Telling Ralph to place a handkerchief that he passed him tightly around the wound, Charles now took hold of the book and placed it gently upon the sack cloth with a widened smile.

  “I have good news for you Mr Freeman-Caine the book has accepted your offering. Now, would you like a bag to put your purchase in?”

Stunned by the sudden returning to the real world behaviour, Ralph shook his head and rubbed his eyes eagerly to comprehend what had just happened. Refocusing on the shop owner he slapped his good hand down on the counter.

  “This is bullshit! What in the hell was all that about?” Ralph demanded.

Charles wasn’t startled by the sudden sound that Ralph made with his hand on the counter, nor was he perturbed in any way from continuing to wrap the book in its original sack cloth covering to place it inside a plain brown paper bag.

  “There we are Mr Freeman-Caine, one book. Oh, and if you could be so kind as to return me my handkerchief, I believe our business is done.”

Now annoyed at the man’s pretence normal behaviour after what he had just done, Ralph pointed angrily at him with his finger from the bandaged hand that Charles had just mutilated. And, just as he was about to shout out his angered words at the man behind the counter, Ralph happened to notice something odd, something very strange about the wounded hand that had been bleeding a few moments ago.

Loosening the handkerchief from his hand slowly, Ralph realised that the stinging sensation which had followed the cutting of his skin was now absent, and as he finally removed the cloth completely all signs of blood loss were gone. It was something that he could not understand or comprehend.

  “What did you do to me?”

  “Do to you, Mr Freeman…”

  “Cut the niceties bullshit Alderton, what in the hell just happened? Where did my blood go?” Ralph suddenly became irate, nervous and scared.

Charles gave a low smile before handing the plain brown paper bag to Ralph, who in turn grabbed hold of it with both hands before holding it above his head in a threatening manner as if he was going to throw the bag and contents right at the shop owner’s head. Immediately, Charles thrust a hand in the air and demanded Ralph to stop – to which he did.

  “I would beg you to spare me the violent act you are about to inflict on me Mr Freeman-Caine, but after today there will be nothing for any of us left to hold onto. Everything hinges on tomorrow, Mr Freeman-Caine, you, me, your wife and the whole population of this world.”

Lowering the bag from above his head Ralph felt weak all of a sudden, his head light, knees strained as though holding a heavy load. Then, from nowhere the three words which Marvin Poyndexter had told him not to say while in wake forced their way to the front of his mind, to his thoughts.

  “What…” Ralph whispered, fighting hard to stop completing the more than unwanted, unneeded sentence of words that would transport him.

Charles began rubbing his hands together with hurried excitement at Ralph’s weakness to resist the power which was guiding his mind and tongue to speak the words that Ralph new only too well would take him back to the nightmare hell from which he had escaped earlier that morning.  The more he tried to put the words from his mind back where they had emerged from, the more they fought against him to be spoken.

  “What…of…tomorrow” He said finally with a gasp of air that took him to his knees in front of the counter.

  “Don’t fight it, Mr Freeman-Caine it will be much better if you don’t fight it. Let it all go and you will feel a lot better. He says that there is a place for us all in the new world.” Charles said with excitement in his voice.

With a gasp of excruciating pain filling his entire body Ralph fell back to rest on the hardened wooden floor, fear and terror showing in his eyes as he asked Charles why he had done what he did to him? It was now that the excitement fell aside to be replaced with an almost apologetic look, as Charles made his way around to the front of the counter before kneeling down by his side.

  “This world has become such a small place that now a new world awaits us all Mr Freeman-Caine, one which we can all live under the magnificence of our one true master.”

  “But what has all this got to do with me?”

  “The New World Mr Freeman-Caine, you have been selected especially to be a part of the New World. You should be thanking me.” Charles exclaimed.

With a single attempt to grab out at the shop owner, Ralph’s vision of the whole room began to fade as quickly he was drawn back into the hellish land that he had become a part of in his nightmare dream. This time he found himself in a small back alleyway where the soaked ground from a burst drain pipe running down the side of a decaying building woke him. Suddenly aware of where he was Ralph jumped to his feet and glanced around quickly before rushing to the end of the alleyway to see exactly where he was.

  “Watch out!” The voice of Marvin Poyndexter shouted.

Looking to his right Ralph saw a vehicle of some description heading right at him in flames. Leaping out of its way he looked back to it crashing through the wall of building before the vehicle and a good part of the building exploded.

  “You really do need to keep your eyes open around this place, man that could have killed you!” Poyndexter exclaimed looking around to see if there were any other surprises.

Ralph got to his feet as quickly as he could. “Nightmares cannot kill you Mr Poyndexter!” Ralph replied dryly.

Grabbing hold of Ralph’s arm Marvin held him at arm’s length while looking him directly in the eyes, then with a slight gasp the stranger released his grip and stepped back.  “You’ve been tainted”.

Both shaken and confused by the burning vehicle and the sudden transport to this hellish world, Ralph staggered to a nearby public bench outside an unused and abandoned grocery store to slump down weakly.

  “My life seems to be getting a lot worse every time I meet you, though it’s all too strange I believe I could be having a nervous breakdown.”

On saying this, one single thought made its way into Ralph’s mind, but not the three words that he had previously been made aware of. This time it was the thought of the shop keeper and the book which he had been given through the traditional sharing of blood – but where was the book?

  “I’ve lost my book,” he gasped.

Marvin Poyndexter glared at him with a knowing look.

  “I’m hoping it is the good book you’re talking about, Mr…”

  “Ralph, my name is Ralph Freeman-Caine, and no, it’s not the Bible I’m talking about Mr Poyndexter, but then you already know that, don’t you?”

Marvin nodded his head. “Yes, Mr Caine I do know.”

Ralph leant forward on his seat and pointed over to an abandoned building across the street. “Strange how this place resembles the city where I live. Do you see that building over there? That is the Maplebower’s Delicatessen where my secretary, Mary gets me my lunch every day at eleven. The shop next to it is Darcy’s Barbers, and next to that…”

  “Hey, Ralph, don’t start losing it now. You won’t be here much longer, besides the sun is about to rise.” Marvin interrupted.

Ralph remembered back to the very first time he arrived there, when he met Marvin in the side alley when the crazy woman was talking of contaminated blood and of someone that had told her that she was not pure enough. It was this information that Ralph had to know the meaning of.

  “That woman, the one you warned me against the first time…”

  “She is known as one of The Lost; people who have been brought here by other means, not by using the book those we were given.” Marvin butted in and revealed while taking a seat next to Ralph on the bench.

  “I need to know, Marvin, I need to know everything that you know”

  “OK, have you got a few hundred years to spare?” Marvin joked.

  “Well, I don’t know about a few hundred years but I do know that there are a lot of things that I don’t quite understand about this place.”

Marvin placed a gentle reassuring hand on Ralph’s shoulder before giving a low quick smile. His expression showing something he was keeping back from telling Ralph.

  “There’s a woman I know in the city that may be able to help you, she’s one of The Lost, but she’s different somehow to all the others. If you want I can take you?”

Nodding lazily Ralph and Marvin stood to their feet and began walking up the street toward the edge of the city; looking upon each building, alleyway and street along the way as though they were about to have someone, something jump out on them. Each step that they took was marked with caution as both Marvin and Ralph finally reached the edge of the city and stopped to rest.

In front of them was the surrounding of trees – thousands of trees – as far as the eye could see. The darkened mass looked eerie, mysterious and all at the same time they looked perturbing, almost threatening in a way that had Ralph shudder where he stood.

  “That’s how I reacted the very first time I saw them, too, only I was a lot closer than we are now.” Marvin said suddenly.

  “There are so many, more than in my own world.” Ralph revealed.

  “Tell me Ralph, where exactly do you come from?” Marvin asked inquisitively.

  “A city called Seacliffe that’s in the United Kingdom”

  “OK, well, what if I was to tell you that this city where you are is that of the one you come from?  This is Seacliffe, only it does not exist in the United Kingdom, but a place known as Storm Island. That much I do know.”

Ralph was beginning to feel light headed as though given overwhelming news.

  “It’s only a dream, Marvin, this place isn’t real”

  “Are you trying to convince me, or are you trying to convince yourself?”

  “When you’ve been around here as long as I have Ralph, the meaning of the word dream is no longer a word that you can associate with a pleasurable interaction of rest. This is real Ralph…we are really here. Welcome to Storm Island, my friend.” Marvin revealed with a sympathetic tone in his voice.

From the edge of the city they both travelled the couple of miles over the almost scorched-like land to a small village for where the woman with all the answers lived. On their way there Marvin explained a couple of things about the area which would assist him in getting used to the land, but not just the land as it stood, but of the many things that roamed around those parts; like the Morrow-Cat, a harmless animal during the daylight hours while come the falling of the sun it was considered one of the worst beasts to attack a human on the island. There was The Iceban’s, or Pirates, as Marvin preferred to call them, while the Trestian’s were the Iceban’s mortal enemy because of their wealth of knowledge surrounding the whole island – Heanther was of The Trestian’s race – and that they were able to see a little into the future of any man, woman or child that crossed their path.

  “These Iceban’s where did they come from?” Ralph asked, suddenly being made self-aware that they may be being followed.

Marvin saw that Ralph was a little worried and so patted him on the back.

  “Hey, its ok, the Iceban’s won’t attack you while I’m here, I can assure you.”

Unbeknown to Ralph at this time, Marvin was in fact an Iceban, or he had become one of their clan some time ago when he became trapped upon the island and had no way of escape – so he told Ralph, but Ralph was unsure.

  “Here we are the village is small but it is very kind with its hospitality. Don’t take anything that looks like meat however, you might be poisoned. If you still believe that this all a big dream then by all means eat a little and you will find out that the food here is of a very palatable kind. Heanther’s home is over this way.”

Following Marvin through the empty looking village Ralph happened to notice a small boy stood in front of the tree line which surrounded the entire city.

  “Before you do what I think you’re going to do – don’t! That young boy is one of The Lost his soul was rejected as much as the others around here. And, just so that you know, people in the village don’t talk about them.” Marvin made Ralph aware with no single glance whatsoever at the boy near the wood, except when noticing Ralph’s gaze fall upon him.

Walking up a short alleyway to a single hidden door at the end, Marvin gave a last look behind them before knocking three times on the old dark oak door. A couple of seconds later they were greeted by an old woman who was inflicted with a hump on her back while steadying herself with a short walking stick made from some old tree branch, the knuckles from where the added branches still visible as along the centre of the stick were almost faded but readable symbols from tip to tail.

  “Marvin,” she spoke with a low cracked voice.

  “Monteara, how are you?” Marvin asked making his way inside slowly.

The old woman gazed upon Ralph with suspicion. “Who is your friend, Marvin? He smells fresh.”

Introducing Ralph to the old woman they proceeded to walk through into what appeared to be some kind of kitchen where Ralph quickly placed a hastened hand over his nose and mouth at the foul stench that both he and Marvin could smell as soon as they entered.

  “Jesus Christ!” Ralph cried suddenly.

The old woman turned and cackled loudly. “This is one place that you will not find the one you call for, Ralph Freeman-Caine. Heanther is in the other room if you would like to go through, Marin.”

Walking from the kitchen into the next room Ralph found the smell had gone, so too had the old woman only to be replaced by a much younger woman – Heanther – who was stood by a window looking out across the village. On the two men entering the room her gaze was brought to look upon them with a puzzled gaze having her rush up to Marvin.

  “Are they here?” She begged him.

  “No. We are alone with a seeking of information for my friend, Ralph. Can you help him Heanther?” Marvin replied to Heanther’s disappointment.

Offering them a seat Heanther sat down opposite with a look of dismay.

  “We were hoping that you would have brought news, Marvin. Obviously the trip into the darkened city did not bode well. Nonetheless, you have returned to us safely and with a new friend. How can I possibly be of assistance to you, Ralph Freeman-Caine?” Heanther asked with a troubled smile.

Ralph looked around the room which appeared to be that of an unusual sort of quality, its walls dark and grimy with age, as too were the windows, doors and the floor. Finally his gaze fell upon Heanther who awaiting his reply.

  “I…erm…well, I would like to know…” He stuttered.

  “He wants to know everything about Storm Island, Heanther and when I say he wants to know everything, I really do mean everything. He’s a Doubter.” Marvin interrupted again on Ralph’s addressing.

Heanther laughed quickly before she stopped abruptly. It was at that very moment that she realized that Ralph and Marvin were being very serious on what they were asking of her.

  “You are new to the island, Mr Freeman-Caine but yet, I’m sensing that you have been here before…another life perhaps.” She said getting closer to him.

Nodding his head with a blank look, she nodded back in the opposite direction as she and Marvin exchanged glances for a second.

  “He has a question, Heanther.”

  “Everyone has a question for me, Marvin,”

  “Not like this, Heanther.”

Appearing to awaken her senses the young woman leapt up from her seat and was immediately by Ralph’s side, her eyes showing a very luminescent blue tone that seemed to worry Ralph.

  “Your right, Marvin Poyndexter, your friend has a very serious question that he wishes to ask me. The one problem being I cannot answer it for him.” She replied to Marvin’s surprise.

  “What? That cannot be, you know all that exists within this realm and upon this island.” Marvin exclaimed standing to his feet.

All of a sudden Heanther snapped her head around to face Marvin with an angry stare. His sudden actions and words had offended her somewhat.

  “Know your place, Marvin Poyndexter, for I am the voice that brings the night, the day and the in between. I am the Moon, the Sun and the stars combined and I can crush you like the insignificant grain of dust that you are. I cannot answer your friends question because he knows the answer himself.”

  “The man that sent me here, Charles Alderton, who is he?” Ralph spoke up.

Heanther’s stare broke from Marvin back to Ralph with less speed.

  “You have been brought here for a reason, Mr Freeman-Caine, and of that reason I cannot tell you what you don’t already know. The man that sent you here is from The Kamitra Clan, and to The Kamitra Clan you must go for the answers to be given.” Heanther spoke in a slow voice as though enchanted.

As quickly as she had approached Ralph, Heanther was back in her own seat with her gaze returning to Marvin, except this time she was staring dreamily. For Marvin who was looking at Ralph and for Ralph who was looking at the young woman, within a moment each was looking around at one another.

  “Well, Ralph,” Marvin began, “It looks like our journey has only just begun. First, we must stay here a while until the midnight approaches, this I must insist on for the safety of the crossing.”

The Crossing was an expression given to a long bridge found on the far south of the island where the natives there hunted for food – anything that was caught was eaten by them. The Clan at The Crossover were known as The Tian’s; a young race of kindred’s which were mistaken by strangers as children. For the Iceban’s, especially, The Tian’s were fierce warriors who fought to the death and left no survivor’s short of being nourishment for their people.

  “This bridge that you speak of is it far from here, Heanther?” Ralph asked.

  “The bridge is about a mile south-east of the village, Marvin will take you there once you have regained your strength. Also you will have to have some of our finest food before you go, Mr Freeman-Caine, it is the least we can do for you returning our brother safety back to us.”

Heanther spoke kindly although there was something about her that Ralph could not work out, something that she said while looking into his eyes. It was during the “Shiel” as The Iceban’s called it, that Heanther said that he had been brought here for a reason, even though she knew why – Ralph didn’t.

  “The Shiel ritual, does it hurt?” Ralph asked not expecting an answer.

For a long moment Heanther didn’t answer for the fact she was preparing a small bowl of food for the two men. The old woman that had answered the door to them when they first arrived had entered the room carrying what looked like fresh cooked meat, ham or something of the likes.

  “The Shiel is an adapted gift which only two of the Clan can perform, Mr Freeman-Caine. The energy needed is quite significant and has been known to kill some of The Templets who have carried out the ceremony. Eventually, The Iceban’s mastered the art and we began to use the gift for our own advantages that other Clan’s sought to take from us.” Heanther explained.

Marvin sat nodding his head as Heanther told Ralph of the ceremony and the day that several of the other Clan’s arrived in the village to take away the gift which they had, only to be cursed and damned by the mere thought and act of trying such a thing. The story seemed to enchant Ralph to a point where he fell completely silent and almost fell into a deep sleep.

  “Ralph, don’t fall asleep! It’s something you cannot do around here.” Marvin called out to him.

  “I am so tired, Marvin I can hardly keep my eyes open. No disrespect to you, Heanther, but I have been travelling so far from the city.” Ralph apologised.

Giving a smile Heanther walked up to Ralph and placed a gentle hand upon his head before whispering to herself so quietly that neither Ralph or Marvin could hear what she was saying. A couple of seconds later Ralph went to give a yawn only to find he couldn’t. The tiredness had been lifted from him.

  “Thank you, Heanther” Ralph said with a smile.

  “You are about to be returned to a place that you call home!” She whispered.

On saying this Ralph felt the pain in filling his entire body until finally all that was around him twisted and blurred in vision, then what felt like an eternity he awoke in his bed at home in a cold pool of sweat. By his side Sarah rose with a start and took a hold of him to calm him down.

  “Ralph! Ralph! Are you OK?” She cried with concern.

Waiting until his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room Ralph looked over to his right towards the bedroom window. Within a few moments the sunlight began to pierce the thin fabric of the curtains and light Ralph’s up for Sarah to see that he was crying.

  “What’s wrong Love? Have you had another nightmare?” She asked rubbing on his shoulder to comfort him.

  “The sunrise…”

  “THAT’S IT!” Sarah shouted, throwing back the bed covers and rushing around the bed to stand in front of her husband. “You will get an appointment to see Doctor Jackson for this morning. I can’t take any more of this Ralph, it’s getting worse and you’re not getting any better. What time did you get home last night? I was sat up until two am waiting for you before I came to bed. Where were you?”

Ralph tried to explain his short diversion from work when he called into the book store on the Main Street, but Sarah almost immediately passed it off as part of his nightmare, because as far as she knew there were no book stores on the Main Street anymore. Getting dressed quickly they both made their way downstairs to the kitchen where Ralph refused breakfast and sat with a large cup of coffee in front of him.

  “The dream was so vivid this time, Sarah, I could do much more than the first time I was taken to…this place, wherever this place is. Marvin was there, too, and he helped me by taking me to this woman’s house in a small village.”

Sarah sat and listened as Ralph told her of Heanther, about the Iceban’s, the Tian’s and other’s that were in this strange land that he was transported to through a dream-like state. All the while Sarah listened she gave an occasional look of wonder before resuming her concerned glare that something was wrong with Ralph’s emotional state of mind.

  “Go to work, Ralph and make an appointment with Doctor Jackson. If you don’t make an appointment and get to see him today, I’m leaving.” Sarah told him pushing her half empty cup of tea into the middle of the table.

Conceding to Sarah’s demands he nodded. “Alright, Sarah, I will.”

Standing up from the table without another word, Sarah left the room.

Marcus De Storm.