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Stunned and motionless like the dead, Palmer lay there struggling with her own mind. She couldn't wrap her head around what had just happened. But this was not her first brush with the surreal. Vivid dreams that defied explanation had always been a part of her life. Dreams so strange, so impossible, that they left her questioning her own sanity. And yet, there were moments when she would wake up knowing things she shouldn't. She could see through time, she could sense what was hidden behind closed doors, and there wasn't a single Christmas where she couldn't guess what was under the tree. She knew all of Tommy's dirty little secrets, and it disgusted her to no end. But this... this was different. This was too real, too painful. She was there, feeling everything as if it were happening to her. Or was she? Was it all just a figment of her imagination, a trick of her own mind? Nothing made sense anymore. "There's no way that happened, it's all in my head. It has to be."
The events of her "dream" slithered back into her conscious mind like a pack of rabid dogs, tearing at her sanity. The feeling of cold steel across her neck, the sound of her own blood gurgling from the wound... It was too much to bear.
"Oh god, Laurie... you were a bitch, but Jesus you didn't deserve that!" she muttered to herself, her voice trembling with fear and disbelief.
"Maybe it didn't happen... maybe it was just a dream. All of it... just a bat-shit crazy, fucking dream!" she repeated, the words falling from her lips like a desperate prayer. "The sirens, probably just a coincidence. Maybe just a car accident... Dr. Mixter had a few too many and yeah, just a simple, everyday, run of the mill fender bender. Or maybe someone broke into Old Man Vincent's Drug store," she continued, her mind grasping for any shred of logic or reason. But deep down, she knew the truth.
Palmer reached out and turned the knob of her little RCA television, the harsh click of the dial echoing through the room. The cold plastic and glass body sparked to life with a slight pop and fizzle, instantly turning into a window, a portal to the outside world. The image of Dr. Morbius in his macabre dungeon of terror splashed onto the screen, the mad doctor introducing tonight's feature presentation with an eerie grin.
"Not now Doc!" she muttered.
CLICK - CLICK - CLICK
Palmer's desperate flipping through the channels had only brought her closer to the inevitable. Each click of the remote felt like a jab to her already rattled nerves. It was as if the universe was conspiring against her, taunting her with every colorful display of mundane programming.
But when Channel 6 flickered to life with those foreboding words, she knew it was all over. The breaking news was a grim confirmation of her worst fears. She felt a gnawing sensation in her gut, a darkness taking hold.
As she turned up the volume, the voice on the screen seemed distant, almost drowned out by the thumping of her own heartbeat. The warning repeated like a mantra, each word hammering home the severity of the situation.
"... police are advising everyone to lock their doors and windows. This is a public service announcement. No details have been released, only that the public are being advised to again, I repeat, lock all your doors and windows!"
Palmer ran to the window and saw the flashing lights a couple of streets over. "Right where Elm would be!" she thought. She saw lights coming closer, the red and blue lights painted across the sleepy houses. A police cruiser turned down her street, creeping slowly down her block, house by house, searchlight shining up and down the street. Piercing the darkness that shrouded the once peaceful neighborhood. She still clung to the faint hope that it had all been a terrible dream.
Her bedroom door blasted open. Palmer almost jumped out of her skin.
"Palmer!" Her mom's voice, nervous yet sure, said. "What are you doing out of bed?" her question, a vain attempt at painting normalcy over the current situation.
"Have you not seen the news or all the lights?" Palmer shot back, shaken and angry that she was pretending that nothing was wrong.
"I know sweetie, your Dad is downstairs making sure everything is alright…" the sound of her voice, it was so warm and soothing. “Back to bed with you, everything will be alright in the morning!" her tone was so insistent, a concentrated effort to convince both of them.
But... They shared the same feeling, that things were going to be anything but normal from now on.
Palmer's mother glided towards the bedroom window with an otherworldly grace, reminiscent of a gothic specter from an old Hammer Horror film. The distant streetlights illuminated her blonde hair, which framed her angelic features. Her slight figure, barely visible under her white nightie, seemed to blend into the shadows. Palmer had seen pictures of her Mom at 16, and they could have been twins. With a click of the remote, the TV flickered off, the image collapsing into a single bright dot of light. The TV continued to hum, residual energy coursing through its circuits and capacitors.
Palmer retreated under the covers of her bed, and her mother's presence enveloped her in a childlike comfort. Despite being well past the point where she needed to be tucked in, Palmer's mother instinctively tucked her in, as if they both needed the reassurance of the gesture.
"Get some rest, I'll see you in the morning," she said as she disappeared through the door out into the darkness. The door closed gently behind her and just as it was about to shut it popped back open. A familiar head popped into view. His glasses reflecting the light coming from the window, Palmer chuckled at his messy black hair. "Night kiddo!" her father's voice made her feel safe. He made a funny face, scrunched it all up, and stuck out his tongue, he always made her smile.. and just like that he was gone and the door gently shut, it clicked as it latched into place.
Palmer laid there for what seemed like an eternity. The events of the day running through her head over and over, question after question occupying every thought. Eventually, she drifted away. Sleep, that elusive mistress, always taunting with her seductive embrace. She comes for us all, in the end.
Beep... Beep... Beep... Beep... her alarm droning on and on. Beckoning her back from the night's embrace.
"...it's 7:58 Pitchford, and this is your main man, Rockin Ricky Rialto, bringing you the greatest hits of ‘84,"
She pawed at her Boombox, she wasn't having any of Rockin' Ricky's shit this morning. Palmer slowly rose and shambled down the hallway to the bathroom. Palmer pulled back the shower curtain, the metal rings scraping on the old tarnished curtain rod. Fine blonde hairs on Palmer's arm stood up. She reached down and turned on the water, it burst forth with a whoosh, splashing on the porcelain tub.
She removed her top, pulling it over her head, revealing her naked vulnerable form. Even though she was alone, she felt shy and nervous, quickly jumping behind the privacy of the shower curtain. Water, still on the cold side, shocked her body as they came into contact. She took a deep breath in, bracing herself from the cool water. She let out a little yelp. The water started to warm, the molecules dancing together, it fell over her like rain. Her mind drifted back to her dreamworld, that warm summer rain running over her body, it was a nice distraction from what had been occupying her mind of late. But her visitor carried with him a darkness that always left an unmistakable stain on her…
Bang, Bang, Bang... startled, Palmer started to panic. She reached for the shower curtain, pulling it close like a vinyl shield, she heard the door open slightly. Embarrassed, she retreated further until she was pressed against the cool tiles that surrounded the old porcelain tub, convinced that the unknown intruder could already see her.
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Palmer's mother's voice pierced the hazy fog of the bathroom.
"Palmer, what are you doing in there.. you're going to be late for school! Are you okay?" The words hung in the fog, drifting through the misty air, waiting to be heard.
Collecting herself, Palmer called back in a shaken mousey tone. "Yeah mom, I'm done, I'll be down in a minute!"
Palmer's mother closed the door, the bathroom was hers again. She quickly washed, scrubbing vigorously, trying to shake free the feeling of grime and darkness that had taken hold of her. The water symbolically washing it away, she pictured it circling the drain and disappearing. She pulled back the curtain and stepped into the misty bathroom, the cold tile floor uncomfortable on her small feet. "Back to reality!" she thought to herself. She wrapped a black towel around her flawless body, leaning on the vanity, she tried to regroup. She reached forward and wiped the water from the vanity mirror, her emerald eyes reflected in the soupy depths before her. Palmer almost didn't recognize what was staring back at her, her familiar green eyes started to swirl and change, creamy Jade turning to a murky black. Shocked, Palmer jumped back...
"What the fuck is going on?" she thought to herself. "Overtired, yeah… that’s gotta be it, I'm just overtired… a nice and simple explanation... it's all because of that fucking dream!"
"PALMER!" she heard her mother calling again.
"I'm COMING!” Palmer yelled back in response. “Jesus, Mom… Have a cow why don’t you!” She muttered under her breath.
She gathered her things and moved into the hall, the crisp air of the house hit her hard. She could hear "Crystal Ship" by the Doors echoing through the house, the haunting song sailed the currents of the air down the hallway.
She quickly got ready. Same old clothes, suiting up into her armor, it's just another day… trying to convince herself. She marched down the stairs, her brother rummaging through his shit, a tiny goblin feverishly sorting through his secret horde of treasure.
"What does he have in there?" she thought to herself.
Palmer's mother stood there, her blonde hair shining in the morning light. She was radiant, always shining despite the gray mundane world around her, she was a beacon. Today was no exception, Palmer could see the murk of the morning light through the elliptical transom above the front door. Its gloom-filled her with a foreboding. The world outside seemed to be mourning, a thick fog blanketing everything.
"Palmer, are you sure you’re okay?" her sweet caring voice called out. "I'm going to give the two of you a ride this morning!" Her motherly instincts taking control, a subconscious need to guard her children.
"Is that my girl I hear?" her dad's voice calling down the hall, a friendly beckoning. She marched down the hall into the kitchen, it was a symphony of smells and sounds, a place where family and love came together in perfect harmony. The oven was alive with the sizzle of breakfast, the radio filling the air with melodies that danced around the room. Palmer's father sat at the head of the table, his face hidden behind the morning paper, but his love and warmth radiated out from him like a beacon. When he finally lowered the paper, his face broke into a wide, stubbly grin. "How's my little Palm Tree this morning?" he asked, using one of the many nicknames he had for her. He always said that the palm trees on the beach were one of the most beautiful things in the world, something so vibrant and alive sprouting from the dry and unforgiving sand. And she, his daughter, was his little miracle, a living embodiment of that beauty. It was silly, but it always made her smile, a deep, fulfilling smile that spread through her like sunshine on a cloudy day.
"I'm doin good Pop!" she responded. "Any word about what happened last night?" Palmer asked her Dad.
"No, not really... I'm sure it's nothing to worry about!" always trying to protect her. "I'll be around today, going to do some work from home!" he said. She knew he had to be nervous about something though since he wanted to be so close. He looked at her from across the table, as if sensing her worry. He lowered the paper "Kiddo, are you... okay? You know you can always talk to me!" he said... she truly felt like she could, but how could he understand what had been happening to her. "It's all so impossible!" she thought to herself. She looked into his green spectacle-covered eyes. They were gentle yet strong, they shared those same eyes, yet she hadn't found her strength yet. Palmer started to open up, preparing to open the locked doors that kept her secrets hidden away.
"Dad... I..." the words starting to take shape in a whispered tone. The locks of her hesitation clicking and releasing.
"Palmer... it's time to go grab your stuff! The train is leaving the station," Her mother called down the hall.
"Shit, dad... I mean shoot, time to go... I'll have to take a rain check on the ol' heart to heart," She grabbed some toast and shot up from the table, bumping it slightly. Her father reached out to secure his coffee, it sloshed back and forth in his #1 Dad mug.
A look of slight disappointment crossed the old man’s face, his eyes betraying a hint of sadness. Their heart to hearts had been few and far between lately, a byproduct of growing up. It seemed like only yesterday when they would spend hours talking about everything under the sun, but now, with each passing day, their conversations have become shorter and more superficial. He missed those days when she was still his little girl.
"Anytime kiddo, just remember, you'll always be my little Palm Tree!" he said lovingly. And at that moment he noticed her wearing the Maiden t-shirt he had given her... he dropped one corner of his paper and flashed her the devil horns. "Kick some ass out there today kiddo!" his words punctuated with a sly wink.
"If only I knew how," she thought. But it made her feel good, his faith filled her with hope.
"You know it, Pops!" calling back as she spun and rushed down the hall. Munching on the perfectly toasted slice of Wonder Bread. Mom and Tommy were already walking out the door, out into the gloomy fog filled morning. The mist, so thick, it seemed to almost swallow them up, they had already begun to disappear, black forms drifting away into nothingness. The smokey tendrils of the fog started to creep across the threshold into their warm safe home. Palmer rushed forward, anxious to stop its intrusion, she hesitated for a moment, then stepped across the threshold into the mist. Pulling the old door closed behind her, it slammed, severing the intruders off from their source, they withered and dissipated into nothing.
The morning was eerily still, the fog hung heavy across the neighborhood. As a result of the cold night mixing with the warm light of the day, its dark presence hung heavy on the world, billowing darkness refusing to let go. Palmer heard the engine thunder to life, shattering the still morning. The AMC Eagle Station Wagon roared, exhaling its first breath, blowing the billowing darkness further away. The oil pushed through its veins, a trusty iron steed, preparing to transport them safely to their destination. As she walked around the hood of the car, the great steed's eyes opened, light piercing the morning fog, Palmer could see her shadow painted across the mist.
She opened the door, a slight creak was the only sound, her mother and brother laughing about something. Palmer sunk into the passenger seat, pulling the seatbelt across her, she engaged it with a satisfying click.
"Alright... and we are off!" her mother said playfully.
"It's about time!" Tommy chirped from the back seat. Driving his knee into the back of Palmer’s seat.
Palmer looked back and Tommy was staring at her; his beady eyes glaring, his comment was directed at her. The radio was droning on, some ad for Lebay’s Used Car Emporium… “We get it Crazy Al, nobody beats your prices,” Instinctively she switched the station, Palmer could hear her mother muttering in vain protest. The speakers erupted with the familiar voice of Rockin' Ricky.
"... greatest hits of ‘84," that voice, the stereotypical radio DJ, like if you looked up disc jockey in the dictionary, there he’d be… Rockin’ Ricky. "It's a gloomy morning drive Pitchford. Danno, our local weatherman somehow missed this fog, it was supposed to be a beautiful morning out there in ‘Ol Pitchford Cove," Palmer could hear the muffled sound of him rummaging through his desk. "...the local P.D wanted me to reiterate, report any unusual activity and above all else, stay safe out there," his voice taking a more somber tone. "Seriously guys and gals, Rockin' Ricky wants you to play it safe out there... up next, we have a double shot of the Cars, starting it all off with Stranger Eyes... next on the Rockin' Ricky Morning Show"
The rhythm took hold of Palmer, its thumping beats reverberating through her body. Synthesizers moaned like a chorus of ghosts, their otherworldly wails stirring something deep within her. Ric Ocasek's distinctive voice slithered its way through the melody, like a snake weaving through the grass. Palmer's foot tapped uncontrollably, her body swaying to the music.
As the car rolled through the quiet streets, life began to stir in the homes around them. Doors creaked open, and children spilled out onto the sidewalk, clutching backpacks and lunch boxes. Parents trailed behind, their faces still heavy with sleep. Palmer watched them with a sense of detachment, feeling as though she were observing them through a thick fog.
Her breath fogged up the window, and she traced patterns with her finger, lost in thought.
"What would school be like? Maybe she'd get there and Laurie would be her normally bitchy self, sitting like the queen of homeroom." optimism took over. "It really was all just a dream!" she thought hopefully. She noticed a couple of officers talking to a group of parents up ahead. She imagined they were talking about the neighborhood watch, regurgitating the typical Halloween safety speeches, don’t eat any opened candy, blah, blah, blah... As the wagon zoomed closer, the huddled group of parents and police came into line with her finger, this alignment brought her doodle into focus. A pair of eyes staring back at her… Palmer swiped at it, erasing all evidence of the strange doodle's existence.
“...I need your touch," Ocasek's voice hauntingly called.
The AMC Eagle soared down the road, its brakes groaning and squeaking as the wagon started to slow down, headlong into destiny. Palmer's eyes turned forward, peering down the road ahead of them, into her future. There was congestion up ahead, pedestrians crossed the street, and cars slowed to a crawl. "We're coming up on Elm!" she thought, her heart growing heavy, her veins swelling with each beat of her forlorn heart. Traffic slowly cruised down the road, and despite not wanting to look, she had to. As they came into line with Elm, she craned her neck to get a better look. She saw what remained - a couple of police cruisers, black and white, with their red lights perched atop, swirling and diffusing into the foggy morning air. Police tape cordoned off the area, but one of the lines had broken, and its tattered edge flapped in the wind, eerily blowing it into the street. A crowd had gathered, their dark silhouettes standing like ghosts, silent witnesses to what was coming.
The dots connected, one point after the next until the reality of what she was looking at ignited her consciousness, her eyes shot forward. Trying to process the sight. Her stomach sank, she reached up and felt her throat. Palmer's eyes wide, staring blankly ahead. She was shaken, her lungs filled as she gasped. She knew without a doubt, there was no more pretending, no more denying.
"Palmer, it'll be okay!" her mother's voice, small and distant.
She felt her mom's soft hand touch her arm, pulling her back from the edge.
"It was all real... it wasn't a dream!" Palmer said coldly.
"What the fuck is happening?"