The empty city and the man full of faces fell away
Her eyes sprang open to a sudden world of noise.
Cars whizzed by while horses cantered down the busy cobblestones and there were----
People!
They laughed, spoke, cried, shouted, actual people and not Nothings at all!
She was relieved to see them, hear them.
Only something wasn’t quite right.
Only each and every person wore the very same black hat with their heads turned down.
Only they all marched to the same hum-drum pace in the same direction.
Only their very human noises all sounded like disingenuous echoes.
They suffocated the walkway.
All caught up within the torrent of blind, automatic movement. Soon, she too rushed with them filled with a strange sense of purpose and hurry that came from nothing at all.
She walked their quick and empty walk.
Passing a woman along the way the Girl reached to tug at her hand, snapping from the tunnel vision and edging into curiosity,
“Miss, excuse me...”
Miss jerked away as if the girl hadn’t spoken, her tug nothing more than a pinch.
A man with his face buried in newsprint rolled by. This time, she tore from the walkway completely and ran to him,
“Sir can you tell me where I---“
Sir bustled past paying a never-no-mind.
Well, maybe if she tried this on----
Surely this man would---
Perhaps this woman could---
But each time was the same, not a glance was spared her way. Only the determined march forward remained, leaving her behind in the endless streets.
Her shoulders heaved forward and the questions cantered through her brain like a noisy worry parade.
Where was she?
What was she going to do?
How did she get here?
How was she going to get out of here?
Who are the people and the voices and the Grey Man who promised her a journey before dropping her into a pit of confusion?
She wanted to be home.
Memories rolled in like a vivid fog.
She missed her father
Tick
and her rabbit, Jeffery,
Tock
and the smell of her grandmother’s perfume,
Tick
playing in her clothes,
Tock
in the kitchen,
Tick
in the garden with her father.
Tock
She hoped the Jeffery was okay, the last time she saw him was in the cupboard, her father put him in there with her before the men----hadn’t he?
“Girl---“
A drifting voice woke her.
How long had she been walking?
She looked up, drowsy.
A man stood still against the onward throng, his hair tied back as loose strands wisped around his neck like soft, gold threads.
He was very different from the Grey Man;
for example, he had a face, a consistent one at least.
Cautiously, she moved opposite the mass, dodging and stepping over those who plodded, in her attempt to reach him.
He smiled at her.
Though he stood in plain sight, she couldn’t seem to hang onto his appearance.
It seemed to
fall
away
like
water
slipping
between her grasping eyes.
He reached for her.
Those around him parted, like the sea in a bible story, afraid to touch him.
She reached back.
He asked,
“Are
You
Lost?”
words dripping,
“Yes,” she answered. Compared to him, her words were rocks.
“How
did
you
come to find
this place?”
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She tried to take his offered hand, but he quickly pulled it back as she came near.
“I don't know, where is this place?”
“Some
where.”
“I don’t understand, of course we’re somewhere, I mean---“
“Walk.” He urged, turning from her.
She hesitated , “Who are you?
“Mr.
Nemo.”
His form seemed to waver and
drop.
“Do---“ she paused before asking the question, of course he wouldn’t, but then again the Grey Man knew so maybe, “do you know why I’m here?”
He stopped, motioning with a gloved hand for her to follow. She balked at him, hesitating, following a strange wispy man in a strange solid place didn’t seem like a good idea.
“Why should I come with you?”
His little, comforting smile fell,
“Is there
something
else
more preferable
to do?”
She thought for a moment, weighing her options. For a second she thought she heard a snickering in the back of her head.
Finally she settled, “No.”
A fluid turn of his sharp polished shoes as he continued to move in the opposite direction, away from the people in the crowd.
“Were you waiting for me too?” She asked as he walked.
The Girl tried to keep up at his heels.
He would vanish
and appear
again
and
again.
“In
a
way
yes.”
He answered,
“Let me---
explain.”
He stopped, this time in a more final way, an irritated voice scoffed in the back of her head,
“make up your mind, coming or going!”
He looked at her, dark eyes studying her just a little too long, as though they saw something about her she couldn’t.
He smiled again, but this one held nostalgia close to it, like she was an old friend he’d finally seen after a long, long time.
“You know how
in stories
there
is always
someone
to restore order
to their
worlds?
“I suppose. Like lost princes and heroes who come home and things like that?”
“yes
things
like that.”
He snatched her hand, dragging her through the masses that slowly faded with each step until there was nothing but an empty street and soon
not even that.
“It’s warm,” she thought, much more than she expected of such a wispy thing.
She wondered why he snatched it away before.
As he lead her away from the Endless City, they came upon a wall of white. She stopped, allowing her hand to fall from him as she
up up
stared and and onward into forever.
The white choked her, paralyzed her and it seemed, gazed at her, actually looking and waiting and not just--
“What is that?” She whispered, as if It could hear her.
“M
I S
T”
Nemo replied,
“Only
The Mist.”
He stepped into the silence of it,
“Come…”
He was vanishing into it. She panicked
“Musn’t get”
She didn’t want to be---
“left
behind.”
Not here, not with It staring and not with Nothing, not again, not after--- The Girl plunged clumsily after him, into the blankness.
It swirled,
shifted,
soft wisps,
breaking,
joining,
together in an endless turn of fog. The world beneath the Girl and Nemo was white as paper, while in the world above the grey spun with limitless time that never changed.
They moved in silence for what felt like hours and days until impatience ripped at her skirts.
“Where are we?” She asked.
The vanishing man placed a finger to his lips,
“Shhh,
IT
could be listening.”
She looked around, leaned over and mouthed, “It?”
A quiet nod as her voice fell.
After a time, the white cleared and before her
A House emerged
Climbing p
U
Past the mists to a place she couldn’t see, maybe even past the grey. The cloud sea parted around it___clear___untouched against the blank backdrop. The House opened its doors, knowing they were there, swinging wide. She haplessly grinned, relieved to see a house that wasn’t hers and to be away from confusion. Houses were never THAT complicated.
They climbed the steps, Mr. Nemo’s red coat creating interesting shadows and folds.
“That’s odd…” she thought
“What’s odd?” the nagging voice in her head replied
“I never noticed his red coat before.”
The voice snarked, “Look at you, finally being observant.”
She peered into the house, just in case, inside was a crackling fireplace that created no smoke, only heat. Lush wine rugs spilled out across the floor along with plush chairs and sofas. Books decorated the walls that seemed to end against the ceiling but in reality
soared higher.
Thinning and reaching up past the small crack where floor met wall
In the center sat an iron stair that spiraled up to each level of the house.
The door shut behind him
“Where---” She started, an upteenth question for the upteenth time.
“Where
is a difficult
question,”
a final answer,
“because
Where
is always
changing.”