Ava followed Ezzie as they slowly and cautiously walked through the fog, neither speaking. She really hoped the edges of the fog lands would lead her back to her reality, but she had her doubts. Rosalie hadn’t seemed all that certain that there even was an edge to the fog lands. What if they walked forever through this cold grayness and never reached an end? What if she never woke up, though she was becoming more and more certain she wasn’t dreaming or hallucinating anymore. Whatever Mark had given her was out of her system by now, and somehow she’d found herself here. She blamed Ezzie for it. She blamed Mark and her mom. Most of all she blamed herself. She never should have gone to the abandoned amusement park that late at night. It was dangerous, but she hadn’t realized it would be this dangerous.
She realized it had been a while since her last cigarette.
“Stop,” she said.
Ezzie stopped abruptly, and Ava almost ran into her.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I need to have a smoke,” said Ava, rummaging around in her bag for her pack of cigarettes. She pulled one out and her lighter and lit it, inhaling deeply, enjoying it immensely.
“That’s better,” she said.
Ezzie waved away smoke. “Why do you do that? It hurts my eyes.”
“Maybe yours,” said Ava defensively.
“Anyway, we’re almost to the bad men oasis. We really shouldn’t stop here.”
“This will only take a few seconds,” said Ava, puffing away.
“Once we get beyond that I’ll be in unfamiliar territory, so we’ll really have to be cautious of the spinning worlds.”
“Okay,” said Ava. She definitely did not want to walk into one of those again. Just the memory made her feel dizzy, though that could have been because of the cigarette. “No problem. I don’t want to walk into one of those again.”
“Neither do I,” said Ezzie. “Hell no.”
“Fuck no,” agreed Ava, smoking the rest of her cigarette and letting it fall to the damp earth.
One of those creepy, six legged creatures scurried out of the fog and sniffed Ava’s boot, and Ava shrieked and kicked it away, and it squeaked and disappeared back into the fog.
“Be quiet,” said Ezzie.
“Sorry.”
“Can we go now?”
“Yes.”
They continued their walk, once again Ezzie avoiding boulders and rocks as though she’d been this way many times before. Soon they came to a broken cement street, and Ava stumbled a little and almost fell into Ezzie again.
“Okay. I’ve never been beyond this road,” she whispered. “Stay close to me.”
Ava had no problems doing that, though cold dread filled her. What if they did walk into a spinning world? How would they get out? She remembered that third floor and shuddered. She was happy she couldn’t feel the demon’s presence or see it out in the fog, staring at her with its red eyes. She hoped she’d never feel its presence again.
They continued their walk, even slower this time.
“Watch out,” said Ezzie, and Ava noticed how she’d almost walked through one of those lightly gray, glowing arches again and shuddered.
“Thanks,” she said.
She’d have to pay more attention. She was getting awfully sick of fog and not being able to see anything, especially when she tripped over some rocks and almost fell into a gray, sharply rising boulder. The boulders appeared more and more as they walked, rising like ghosts, and they inched their way in between them. Soon Ava thought she heard something, muffled through the fog, but still there. Was that a song? It sounded like a flute.
“Do you hear that?” she asked.
“Yes.”
The flute song only became louder and louder, the further into the boulders they walked, and then the fog cleared, again revealing the stars above, and a pavilion lit up with strings of Christmas lights—brightly colored in all of that previous grayness, and Ava blinked.
Picnic tables were beneath the pavilion, and on top of one of them sat a man—not a mountain man though, much to Ava’s relief. He was old and wrinkled, long gray beard falling to the cement. He wore overalls and a flannel. The sound of his flute was beautiful and hypnotizing, like the strings of brightly colored and lit Christmas lights. Food was spread out on the picnic tables, over white and gold table cloths—sandwiches and chips, and tall cups filled to the brim with a deep red liquid. Was that blood?
Ava’s stomach grumbled, and she realized she was starving. It was as though the old, flute playing man had been waiting for them.
He put his flute down.
“Hello,” he said.
Ava started to approach the pavilion further, completely ravenous, but Ezzie put her arm out, stopping her.
“Who are you?” she asked. “Are you a bad man?”
“Never heard of them,” he said, smiling and revealing tons of wrinkles and crooked teeth. “Come and eat.”
“Sounds good to me,” said Ava. “I’m starving.”
She pushed past Ezzie and went under the pavilion, the cement hard under her booted feet. She grabbed a sandwich—white bread with what appeared to be peanut butter and jelly, and took a bite. It was delicious. Ezzie approached the pavilion closer. She went beneath it, but didn’t touch any of the tall cups of blood.
“You should have a drink,” urged Ava.
“No,” said Ezzie.
“Do you know a way to the mortal world?” Ava asked the old man, finishing her sandwich and grabbing a handful of potato chips.
The old man smiled again and eyed his silver flute longingly. The bright glow of the Christmas lights reflected on it.
“Maybe,” he said.
Well that was ambiguous.
“Tell us, old man, is there an end to the fog lands?” Ezzie asked.
“Of course. Everything, except for us immortals, comes to an end,” said the old man.
“How do we get there?” asked Ezzie.
“How should I know, Esmeralda?”
“How’d you know my name?” Ezzie looked affronted, like someone had slapped her across the face.
Ava’s throat suddenly dried up, a chip got stuck in her throat, and she coughed.
The old man just smiled.
Ava suddenly felt sick.
“Your full name is Esmeralda?” was the only thing she managed to say.
Ezzie just nodded.
“And your name is Ava,” said the old man, and now it was Ava’s turn to feel like someone had slapped her across the face. “Who are you?” she demanded.
“I’m the musician,” he said, putting the flute back to his lips, and he played.
The sweet and melodic song seemed to surround them, and suddenly bright flowers appeared, as the musician played, blooming in technicolor all around the pavilion and up the sides of it, mixing in with the brightly glowing Christmas lights. The flowers bloomed—orange and yellow and red and purple, and they smelled sweet, like the song the musician played on his flute. Ava’s heart lifted, and she wanted to become one with the song the musician played. Suddenly she didn’t care how or why the musician knew their names. Suddenly she didn’t care how she was going to get back to her reality. The only thing that mattered was that beautiful flute song, and she fell to her knees, barely registering the pain when her knees hit the hard cement. Ezzie fell near her.
The musician’s song lifted her up and above, above the pavilion and the blossoming flowers and Christmas lights, and to the stars.
“What’s happening,” she heard Ezzie whisper. “Stop playing. Now!”
But the musician didn’t stop, and Ava felt herself being sucked downwards, sucked into those Christmas lights, and then the music abruptly stopped, and she hit the cement hard with the palms of her hands and breathed heavily.
The flowers were gone, and it was just the pavilion and the picnic tables and the food and cups of bright red blood. Ezzie knelt near her.
One of the cups of blood was spilled, and the blood was like a period stain on the white and gold table cloth. The musician’s flute was on the cement.
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Two women stood near him, both black and wearing long blue gowns, hair in dreadlocks and adorned with colorful beads. One—the shorter one—grabbed the musician’s flute.
“Can you two stand?” she asked, taking out earplugs and dropping them.
The other girl did the same.
“I-I think so,” said Ava, shaking as she got to her feet. What was that? What had just happened.
Ezzie also stood.
“What just happened?” Ava asked.
“You were caught under the spell of the musician of course. What were you foolish girls thinking?” the taller black girl asked.
“Let them become one with my lights. Their quest is futile anyways,” said the musician, staring longingly at his flute, but not going for it. The short black girl looked like she could easily kick his ass. Hell, Ava could easily kick his ass. She rubbed her stinging palms on her skirt.
“No, musician, you will not take more,” said the taller girl.
“My name is Aryana!” said the shorter girl who held the flute, suddenly cheerful, and Ava hoped she wouldn’t turn into another Luna.
“I’m Sakari,” said the other girl. “Only fools would walk into the musician’s music unshielded. Who are you?”
“I’m Ava.”
“She’s Esmeralda,” said the musician, indicating Ezzie.
“Ezzie,” she snapped. “Call me Ezzie.”
“Where do you two come from?” asked Sakari.
“Yes. Please tell us! We’ve never met anyone like you before,” said Aryana.
“Beyond the bad men oasis,” said Ezzie.
“The mortal world. I’m from the mortal world! I need to get back to it! Do you two know how?” Ava asked, more like pleaded, but she couldn’t help it. She wanted to go home so bad, even if it meant facing Mark and her mom again, and Elizabeth… Sudden shame overcame her, and she barely managed not to puke up the musician’s sandwich and chips she’d eaten.
Aryana and Sakari just gazed at them, deep brown eyes twinkling under the glow from the Christmas lights.
“We’ve never heard of a mortal world,” Aryana finally said, and Ava’s hopes dashed. “But we’ve heard of the bad men. We’ve seen them.”
“Elu may have heard of the mortal world before though,” said Sakari.
“Who’s Elu?” Ava asked, her hopes rising.
“Our wisest leader. Come. We’ll introduce her to you,” said Sakari, motioning away from the pavilion with her hands.
Aryana smiled.
“At least give me my flute back this time,” the musician begged.
“Not happening, old man,” said Aryana, waving it in his old, wrinkled face, and he frowned. “Come on, Ava and Ezzie!”
And Ava and Ezzie followed Sakari and Aryana, back out into the fog and away from the musician’s pavilion. Ava still didn’t understand how he knew their names, but didn’t think she was going to get any answers regarding that. She was just happy to be away from him.
“You two were terribly lucky,” said Aryana. “We just happen to pass by the musician’s pavilion every now and then, to see if he's caught anyone. Today was your lucky day!”
“What was he?” asked Ezzie.
“Just the musician. He’s old and wise, and a mean-spirited old crotch bucket who only wants more bulbs to adorn his lights, which is what you two almost became,” said Aryana.
That didn’t sound good. Ava didn’t like the sound of that. She really needed a cigarette, but Sakari and Aryana walked so fast it was hard to keep up with them. They walked through the fog as though they knew this route by heart, and soon the fog cleared, revealing a forest, trees vacant of leaves and bark glowing silvery white in the starlight. They followed a rooted trail and came to the edge of a cliff and a huge lake spread out to the horizon, twinkling under the night sky and stars. It spread out into more fog.
“This way,” said Sakari, and Ava and Ezzie followed Aryana and Sakari down a narrow trail, through the silver tree forest. Aryana threw the musician’s flute, down by a stack of discarded flutes, all rusting in the shadows from the tree branches.
“Won’t be needing that!” she said cheerfully.
They followed the two girls to the cliff’s edge, which protruded jagged rocks and loose brown roots, and down some stone steps, chipped and slippery, as though they’d been walked a million times before, and came to the lapping shores of the lake, where there was a village of dwellings made out of silvery logs.
Other girls in blue gowns, hair and arms and necks adorned with bright beads, walked and talked and laughed, tending to smoking fires or cleaning woven mats, or washing clothes in tubs of brown water. They all looked at Ava and Ezzie curiously as they passed, but didn’t say anything to them. They went through a small patch of trees, to a tilted house made out of the silvery bark.
“That’s where Elu lives,” said Aryana.
“Come on,” said Sakari.
The tilted doorway was covered in a brightly colored cloth.
“We have visitors, Elu,” said Sakari. “Can we come in?”
“They have questions,” explained Aryana.
Silence, and then, after a few moments, “Enter.”
They entered the tilted home of Elu. Ava coughed. It was dark and smoky, only lit by a small fire in the center. Colorful rugs lay on the ground, and an old—ancient looking—black lady knelt over the fire, tending to a rusty looking tea kettle. Her bald head was covered with bright beads, and bright beads hung around her neck and wrists. Her eyes were milky when she glanced up at them. She looked grim.
“I take it you didn’t find a new, suitable oasis for us,” she said.
“No, but we saved these two from the musician,” said Sakari.
“Oh okay. Well, that’s good I suppose.” Elu sighed and sat back, beads clicking together. “Who are they?”
“My name is Ava.”
“And I’m Ezzie.”
“We’re looking for a way back to the mortal world,” said Ava. “Do you know a way? Is it at the end of the fog lands?”
“Do the fog lands even come to an end?” asked Ezzie.
The tea kettle hissed, and Elu poured hot water into three chipped tea cups.
“Have tea with me,” she urged. “Have a seat.”
Ava didn’t want any tea. She didn’t like tea, but she didn’t want to be rude, so she sat down near the fire, on one of the colorful rugs. Ezzie sat next to her. Elu handed them both a cup of tea. It smelled spicy, like chai tea or something. Ezzie put hers down. Ava doubted she was going to drink it. Aryana and Sakari stayed standing by the cloth doorway.
Ava blew on her tea and tentatively took a sip. It tasted like cinnamon and allspice. Not bad. It reminded her of Elizabeth.
“I am unsure if there’s an end to the fog,” said Elu. “But I think I’ve heard of this mortal world.”
“What is it?” asked Aryana, from her spot by the doorway.
“A place where those who dwell go into the long sleep but never wake up.”
“Oh,” said Aryana. “That sounds awful!”
“Not to me,” muttered Ezzie, staring down at her tea, and Ava wondered if she had suddenly become suicidal. She didn’t know how an immortal, incapable of even violence, could commit suicide, but it still disturbed her.
“Do you know how I can get there?” asked Ava, hope filling her. This Elu wise woman had to know a way!
“There is a shimmering archway I have heard of, in stories my momma used to tell me, that leads to a place of forever ending sleep, but it only shimmers into focus once every hundred years. And it was just a story she used to tell me. A myth.”
Ava’s hopes fell. Every hundred years? She wasn’t going to be alive in another hundred years, and the thought of spending the rest of her life in this weird fog place was unacceptable.
“When is it appearing next? Has it been one hundred years?”
“Soon, yes,” said Elu, sipping her tea.
“How do we get there?” asked Ezzie, still not touching her tea.
“I am unsure. It’s in a place where things are breaking apart.”
“Could that be the end of the fog lands?” asked Ava.
“Could be,” said Elu.
“How do we get there?” asked Ezzie.
“That I do not know, dears. At one point my momma told me there was a map that led to it, but she never said what became of it. I am sorry.”
“Well, we’re screwed,” said Ezzie.
“No!” said Ava. There had to be a way. They could find this map, if it even existed. Suddenly she wanted to read that book in her bag, wondered if it would offer any clues. “Maybe that book has some clues in it.”
“Maybe,” said Ezzie, sounding doubtful. “It just references the mortal world where the rivers flow with sweet blood and how the rollercoaster is a gateway to it.”
“There has to be more,” said Ava.
“What book?” asked Aryana.
“I found it in the abandoned city,” said Ezzie.
“Oh,” said Aryana.
Ava took out the book, still damp in her hands, and frantically paged through it. It mentioned the rollercoaster being a gateway, like Ezzie had said, but didn’t offer any other ways. She read the same shit it had told Ezzie, about the mortal world and its rivers of flowing, sweet blood. Most of the pages were just pictures—rivers of blood, the rollercoaster itself, pictures of blank faced people that must have been mortals. It showed graphic pictures of violence, people getting stabbed and gushing bright blood. She read that there were indeed other portals to the mortal world, but didn’t say what to her dismay, and then she got to a yellowed page that showed a map. It must have been a map of the immortal world because it showed round pictures of what these immortal people called an oasis. One showed a fountain, spewing red liquid she assumed was blood—where those strange immortal vampire girls lived.
Excitement filled her. Another picture showed cages and a six-legged creature—the bad men oasis? Another a flute—the musician? And yet another one showing trees barren of leaves—where they now were? There were other pictures she didn’t recognize. A tower. A candle.
And at the very edges the page faded to gray nothing. Maybe that was the very edges of the immortal world? Maybe the fog lands ended there? Maybe that was where the shimmering archway Elu had mentioned was?
“Look!” she said, showing the map to Ezzie. “I found a map.”
“I don’t recognize some of those places,” said Ezzie.
“But there’s an edge to the fog lands! That must be where the shimmering archway that appears only every one hundred years is! We have to go there!”
“What if there’s nothing?”
“What choice do we have?”
“The shimmering archway to the land of eternal sleep should be appearing shortly, if the myths are true. It’s been one hundred years,” said Elu. “I always loved that story.”
“We have to go!” said Ava, standing up and spilling her cup of tea all over the brightly colored rug. “We have to get there in time!”
“Well okay,” said Ezzie, sounding doubtful.
“We just have to follow these other places.”
“Let’s go then.”
“How will you get back, hon?” asked Elu.
“I don’t really care,” said Ezzie. “I have nothing to go back to.”
“Your sisters will forgive you,” Ava assured her.
Ezzie just looked at her full cup of still steaming tea and didn’t say anything. After a moment she stood up too, pushing her long, knotty pink hair behind one ear. She looked thinner and her skin was practically gray. Ava was worried about her. When was the last time she’d drank any blood?
“You’re leaving already?” said Aryana.
“Yes,” said Ezzie.
“We’ll show you a safe way out, so you don’t encounter the invaders,” said Sakari.
“Who are the invaders?” asked Ava.
“The men taking over our lands. We’re sanctioned to just this one shore now,” explained Sakari.
“That’s terrible!” said Ava.
“We go out in search of a new place to settle and call our own oasis, but so far haven’t found any place suitable.” Aryana frowned.
Ava looked at the book.
“Okay. We need to go in the direction of that tower picture, so that would be—” She studied the map. “North.”
“Across the waters?” said Aryana, suddenly sounding alarmed.
“What’s wrong with that? We can’t have a boat or something?”
“No. You can. But no one who has crossed the waters has ever returned.”
“Great,” muttered Ezzie.
“Well, we have to try,” said Ava. She bent the edge of the yellowed map and closed the book. She put it back in her bag, happy she had kept it and not left it behind like Ezzie had wanted her to. “Can we leave now?” Urgency filled Ava. They had to go to this shimmering archway before it disappeared for another hundred years. She really hoped the myth Elu’s mother had told her was true. It had to be true. She needed to get back to her reality.
“Of course,” said Elu, taking another sip of her tea. “I wish you dears luck.”
“Thanks,” said Ava.
Ezzie stood up.
“Well, lets go,” she said, sounding solemn. Ava wished she had a Prozac she could give her or something. She was sure Rosalie, Luna, and Amelia would forgive her, and she wished she could convince Ezzie of that.
“Come,” said Sakari.
Ava and Ezzie followed Sakari and Aryana out of Elu’s dwelling and back through the village, where women still talked and laughed and cleaned rugs and washed clothes and tended to smoking fires. Ava felt bad these invaders were taking over their oasis.
“We’ll give you a boat and some provisions,” said Aryana. “But are you sure you want to cross the waters? No one who has gone in that direction has ever come back.”
“That’s fine,” said Ezzie.
“We don’t have a choice,” said Ava.
“Well, okay,” said Aryana. “If you’re sure.”
Sakari and Aryana gave them a basket of deep purple berries and some dried meat—Ava really hoped it wasn’t from those creepy, six legged creatures—that Ava had no intention of eating, and she knew Ezzie wouldn’t eat any of it. Aryana gave them an old, rusty looking compass, which Ava was grateful for because they had to keep on going north, and led them to a wooden dock, where there was a row boat, made out of silvery white wood. Sakari put the basket inside of it, and Ava got in the rowing seat. She didn’t think Ezzie would have the strength to row them anywhere, and Ezzie got in after her, water lapping and splashing against the wooden sides of it. Aryana and Sakari pushed them away from the dock.
“Good luck!” Aryana said behind them, and Ava began rowing.