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She knew where she was, but when—that was a much harder thing to pin down. The hallway was familiar yet alien, as if different versions of itself existed simultaneously. But one thing was painfully obvious: it was cold, so very cold, her breath hanging frozen in the air before her. She braced herself, folding and rubbing her arms, generating and preserving what little warmth she had. That warmth was precious, she could feel it seeping out of her pores, as though this place was consuming it.
She looked around, the striking familiarity of this place constantly shifting to a strange and twisted doppelganger of itself. A banner for the upcoming dance stretched across the hall, but it shimmered, pulsating as it changed. One moment it was the Monster Mash, the next it was the Harvest Dance of '54. These changes seemed to happen in waves, rippling down the length of the hallway. The pulsating reminded Palmer of the corded muscles of a snake's esophagus, flexing as it digests its prey—only this place seemed to digest time.
She stood motionless, frozen in disbelief. Her mind tried in vain to make heads or tails of this place. It was like what you imagined existed in the darkness under your bed... It was a version of her world that lived on the other side of some dark veil. A veil that blocked out all light, all warmth... leaving nothing but the shadows of what had been. In the distance, she heard the cawing of ravens, a haunting sound echoing through this void. She searched for the source, peering out into the mist, and then she realized: the shapes were everywhere.
Fear started to take hold of her, gripping her tightly, fingers tightening around her throat, making it hard to breathe. One of the shapes came towards her, breaking through the fog, passing by her close enough for her to feel it, goosebumps forming on her flesh. Its features came into focus—a kid... it was just a kid. Palmer knew she'd seen that face a thousand times before. It was Johnny Jones, but he was dead, having died in a tragic accident on the football field back in the '60s. The school and the whole damn community had been devastated; they even created a little shrine, a memorial that still stood to this day in the trophy case. She passed that little shrine every day on her way to the gym. His features were burned into her memory, but to her utter disbelief, there he went, his face cold and gray, but it was him—it was definitely him. Curiosity pulled her forward, and she moved towards another one of the shapes. Another kid... they were all students, or they had been. They moved aimlessly down the hall, their spectral forms barely registering her presence, barely registering anything for that matter. Like this place, the specters seemed temporally unhinged. It was crazy—she could make out fashions from at least three different decades.
An uneasiness washed over her. She could feel something else in the darkness, as if she were being watched. Not everything here was oblivious; there was something, something deep in the mist that was keenly aware of her presence. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a dark shape, moving faster than all the others. Palmer spun, her head darting quickly from left to right, trying to catch a glimpse of what she thought she saw. Whatever it was, it had left a dark, rippling wake in the mist. Fear took hold, and she felt those fingers tightening again, instinctively bracing herself tighter. There was no choice; she had to move on, pushing forward into the cold darkness, not knowing where to go...
Her pace quickened, one measured step after the next, as she stumbled through the sea of shadowy specters, their blank stares filling her vision. Suddenly, she heard a familiar voice echoing in her mind: "Laurie?"
"Palmer, you have to move… you have to get out of this place; you don't belong. They want you, and they are so very hungry," her voice pleaded desperately. Palmer hesitated… "What? Where?" As if reading her thoughts, the disembodied voice pleaded again.
"I need you to move, to get out... you don't belong here; you won't be safe for much longer."
She saw another dark flash, and another—they were circling, gathering, drawn to her warmth like ravenous moths to a plump flame. An inky black form rose from the mist, another skittered across the ceiling and down the wall—they were coming for her. They snaked and crawled over the ghostly shades of the students, their blank faces focused on Palmer. Desperately, she moved, stumbling around the next corner. There, in the distance, Palmer could make out a light, flashing and flickering in the darkness. It illuminated the shadowy world around it… the details of this cold dimension came into focus, everything covered in ice. In the mist, she could make out forms, their bodies twisted and tortured, frozen in time.
She noticed Laurie's spectral form, waving a crooked hand, beckoning her forward, guiding her to the light. As she weaved through the specters, the light grew brighter by the moment, a lighthouse guiding her to safety through these rocky shoals. The light came from a room, through a frosted glass pane, allowing the light to pierce its membrane into the dark hall. She moved, her pace quickening, closer and closer to what felt like safety... the shapes grabbed and scratched at her, drawn to her warmth, to her light. Grabbing hands turned to swirling smoke as they snatched at her, unable to take hold, some unforeseen power preventing them from taking her. But her presence here was a match struck in the darkness, her light and warmth the only of its kind on this side of the veil... and these creatures wanted it, were desperate for it. As she drew closer to the door, to the light, the shapes fell away, unable to proceed any further. They slinked and slid along the border of the light. She heard their voices echoing through the void…
"Stay with usssss… feed ussss... be one with usss," many voices slithered around one another, speaking as one. Words hissing through the darkness, pulling at her, she could feel their desire.
"No, she does not belong," a familiar voice, a voice she had heard many times in her dreams. This voice had power, a pull that was hard to resist. She had to know why it was here, where it was coming from.
Laurie appeared beside her, urging her forward. On this side of the veil, she could see her familiar face, her soft features. In the light, there was no sign of the pain she had seen before. Her face, just a cold and pale version of what it had been in life, was beautiful again. Her soft eyes pleaded with Palmer, begging her to keep moving.
"RUN," Laurie barked.
She resisted the urge, the pull of the mysterious voice. She surged forward, deeper into the light, toward safety. But she couldn't shake the desire to follow that voice, to follow it to its origin, despite its declaration to flee this place.
Palmer turned and faced the door, the light bathing her cold skin, drawing her inward. She passed through, phasing through the molecules of wood and glass, her non-corporeal form effortlessly slipping into the room beyond. Palmer could make out the ghostly form of a nurse, wearing what appeared to be an old uniform. The spirit moved around the room as it had in life, busy in its routines. For a split second, the warm light filling the room disappeared. She could see an exam table, a dark shape sat atop it. A small and familiar shape, she cautiously moved toward it. The light flashed again, a spotlight emanating from within the head of the form, the brilliant light pouring forth from its eyes and mouth… it was blinding. She was unable to make out any features; it was too intense. She had to look away, down toward the floor... down to a pair of dirty white Chucks hanging motionless. She knew those sneakers, knew every scuff and doodle… "How?" Those were her shoes.
The light flickered again, her vision adjusting to the darkness, she found herself face to face with her own image. The room faded back into shadowy darkness, the barrier that had kept the formless beings away vanished.
"She’sss ourssss," the voices hissed again.
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They flooded into the room, across the misty floor, like sharks through shallow water. Some creatures moved up the walls and ceilings, snaking their way in, closer and closer. The monsters had discovered her anchor to the other side, they moved toward her spectral form. What sat on the examination table was not of this world, it was a tangible manifestation of herself in their reality. They moved toward her shadowy tether, intent on severing her connection... trapping her on this side of the veil. The light erupted once more through the eyes of her doppelganger, bathing Palmer's spirit form and the room around her. The beings closest to the light were shattered, the rest retreated to what shadows they could find, huddling in the cold, they watched, waiting for the light to fade again, waiting for their chance to strike. She could hear their whispers, their chittering voices.
"This is my chance," she thought to herself.
She tried to move forward, but she was locked in place. Something was stopping her, something had her. Hands were wrapped around her feet, she could feel the cold icy grip. They had her, she had stayed too long. Her warmth was feeding them, the hands gripped harder, the cold burned her skin. She winced in pain, more hands clasped onto her, they were determined not to let her go. Despair filled her, unable to move, unable to save herself. At any moment the light would fade again and all hope would be lost, the hands would swallow her, trapping her here for good.
Palmer could hear distant familiar voices emanating from within her, in the light, she heard her name. She heard her mom's voice, she was desperate to get home. She felt small and scared, like a child. Desperate for help, any help. Within her was the tunnel home.
"Someone help me," she called out. "PLEASE"
Desperate, Palmer reached into the light, into that hollow vessel of herself… she pried the mouth open, wider and wider. Stretching and pulling herself in, inching deeper into the waiting maw. The light wrapped around her and pulled her through. She relinquished herself to it, desperate to get home, the light blinded her as she fell into it.
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It flashed again, the light faded, and her vision returned. She was sitting in the nurse's station at school… her school, her time, her world. She could feel the warmth and light again, she could feel her body. Ms. Alcott was using her penlight to check her eyes, her pupillary response... eyes reacting to that light, finally responding to the introduced stimuli.
"There she is... how are you feeling sweetie?" her mom's soothing voice called.
"What - what happened?" Palmer heard herself question.
"Nothing dear, you just fainted... you had us a little worried for a second, but everything will be fine, everything will be just fine," Ms. Alcott said reassuringly as she patted Palmer on the side of her knee. "Mrs. Stokes, may I see you in the hall for a moment?"
Palmer sat there, her mind becoming clearer by the moment. She watched as her mom and Ms. Alcott walked out of the room. The door closed with a clang, the thin pane of glass rattled in its frame. Palmer wondered… "What were they talking about?"
"Look at me Palmer, look at what happened to me... you have to help free me. You have to help stop more people from ending up like this. He's still out there. You have to see.. you have to look". She could see their silhouettes through the frosted glass, their body language conveying the concern they both shared. Mom's head lowered, and she saw Ms. Alcott reach out reassuringly. They both stepped away from the window, leaving Palmer alone with her thoughts. The same old questions raced through her mind…
"What's happening?" the one question she kept repeating, everything hinged on even a partial understanding. Was she going crazy? Was it all a delusion? She felt a stinging sensation, realizing her legs were in pain. Reaching down, she lifted her tattered Levi's, both legs covered in faint handprints, each one ice cold to the touch.
"See, you're not going crazy… this is as real as what happened to me," a ghastly voice croaked in Palmer's ear, shattering the silence of the room. That familiar voice, no matter how many times she heard it, was as unsettling as the first time. Palmer hesitated to look in the direction of the voice, unsure of whether or not she could handle the sight of Laurie's decaying visage.
"No," Palmer exclaimed, shaken and mentally spent.
"You don't have a choice, you said you wanted answers, like it or not, we are in this together now" the corpse croaked at her.
Palmer refused to make eye contact, instead she stared at the floor, Laurie's canvas Keds shambled into view. Those shoes had always been immaculate, stark white, but not anymore. Laurie's blood had saturated and stained them a dark brown. Palmer's eyes slowly moved up her twisted body, everything was stained, her cheerleading uniform torn and splattered with the same dark brown, the blood had dried and crusted on the once pristine uniform. Further up her eyes drifted, her neck was sliced wide open, the skin and muscle separating, tendons severed. Her trachea made an awful gasping noise, a moist sucking sound as it tried in vain to breathe air that was no longer needed. Palmer's stomach knotted, the horrific view causing a nauseous feeling to grow deep inside her. She swallowed hard... pushing that feeling back down.
"What's the matter Palmer? I'm not so pretty anymore, am I?" Laurie jokingly questioned.
"No, no… you look great Laurie," Palmer tried in vain to keep the spirit happy.
"Don't fucking lie to me... I can feel myself rotting. The more time I spend on this side, the faster my body will turn to mush. I’m just so heinous..." the corpse attempted to roll its head, punctuating the last word as Laurie would have if she was still alive. But instead, the head shifted unnaturally, Palmer could hear the bones of her exposed spine grind in protest. "Gawd… so for both our sakes, let's not fuck around anymore - stop being a spaz and help me out... help us both out. I have something to show you,"
Laurie's arms reached out to Palmer, grabbing both sides of her head. Cold fingers slid inside her. Palmer's world evaporated, light replaced with darkness, warmth with a dead cold. She stood in a black void, emptiness surrounding her... slowly, shapes began to manifest, birthed from the darkness. A field of rolling blue fog, a twisted and ancient-looking oak tree crawled up from the dark earth, its aged and weathered branches sheltering a singular spot. The ground ruptured as various marble headstones sprouted from deep within the earth. A mausoleum sat off in the distance, guarded by two macabre hooded statues. A crude altar had been erected, formed from the jagged stone of a shattered tombstone. The surface of this crude altar was covered with half-melted candles, just below the surface of the stone were faintly glowing pagan runes, circling a rather ordinary brass bowl. Four pedestals evenly spaced ahead of the altar, each with a brass bowl of its own. Palmer moved forward, curiosity driving her onward; she needed answers.
She defiantly marched towards the altar, passing the brass bowls, she could see each held a severed heart, four bowls, four bloody hearts, all faintly thumping in rhythm. An unearthly mist rolled across the dark grass of the cemetery, cascading down the hill, rolling and flowing over the grass and around the ancient tombstones, pooling at her feet. Beneath the mist, she could feel the ground begin to rumble, a strange energy building. The doors of the mausoleum cracked open, the ancient stone doors scraping as they slid wide. A violent thunderstorm of black feathers erupted from within the crypt. A seemingly endless wave, their velvety feathers filling the sky. They raged and cawed at one another; the Wild Hunt had come to steal the sky from man. Many took roost within the arms of the ancient oak, glassy eyes staring directly at Palmer. From within the storm of feathers, it stepped, haggard and thin, skin barely clinging to alabaster bone, a pitiful version of what used to be its human form. The shape she saw in Laurie's dream… it was unmistakable, the same blank face and black eyes staring right through her. In one hand, it held a savage blade; in the other… blood flowed freely. A crimson line followed in its wake. It slithered its way to the altar, behind it she could see two bodies huddled within the mausoleum. As it neared the altar, the glow of the runes intensified. It placed what was in its hand into the empty bowl, tossing the knife
Onto the altar, blood splattered across Palmer's legs. The shape began to chant, the chant echoing throughout the graveyard, other hissing voices joining, quiet and distant at first, the cawing of the ravens filled the empty night. The bowl flashed in front of her, and she retreated. The bowls all around her flashed, all alight with a rolling blue flame. The rumble beneath her feet intensified, a blood-red line ripped from one pedestal to the next, crisscrossing on the ground beneath her feet. The lines intersected at the altar in front of her, forming a burning star on the ground, a pentagram. The earth cracked and started to fall away beneath her, fearful, she jumped back, landing on her butt. Shadows began to spill through the hole, the chanting growing louder now, she could hear it flowing out of the gaping crevasse. Those shadows were familiar, the cold was familiar… formless shapes started crawling and slithering forth through this newly formed gate.
"Thisss world is oursss now... we are free!"
A doorway had been ripped open between the worlds. Specters and ghouls began rising from their graves, a blue fire erupted from within the cracks all around her. Her world was burning with cold, dark flames.
Palmer stared in horror at what was unfolding before her. She blinked, and she was back in the nurse's station. Laurie's dead face stared blankly at her. The wet suction sound started in her throat, the words clawing their way from her depths out into reality.
"That is what you have to stop… he needs five hearts before midnight on Halloween... the festival of Samhain. He just needs four more!" Laurie's dead arms lifted her shirt, her chest split wide open, her heart, once strong, young, and pure, was gone, ripped away while it was still beating.
The door to the nurse's station opened... Ms. Alcott walked into the room followed by Palmer's mom. They were oblivious to the rotting corpse in their midst. They passed right through it, and as their physical forms touched it, Laurie fell away.
But her words still hung in the air. "Four more!"
Palmer looked straight at her mom, and before anyone else could say anything, she spoke.
"Mom... I need to go home!"