MASON

The black shrouds at the edges of my vision begin to recede as if preparing for the third act of a macabre play. Trying to clear my vision, I blink my eyes a couple of times. Remembering what just happened, I reach behind my back but don't feel anything--no blood, no wound. I check my right side, too, and again, nothing. Was that all a dream?

The cool metal of a door is pressing against my forehead. I lean back, still on my knees. If it had been a dream, why was I still in the alleyway? I try to think about it again, remembering the burning pain of the knife exiting my body. My first memory of it brings tears to my eyes, but the longer I think about that pain, the harder it becomes to remember. The more I think about my murder and the events surrounding it, the more the memory acts like smoke escaping from my flailing hands. Eventually, even Tony's kind face is lost to the abyss consuming the memory of my death.

Turning my head towards the sky, it no longer appears to be night. Rather, the sky is empty. No sun, no moon, no clouds, no stars. It's more like dusk when the setting sun casts pink and orange hues, which have spread across the whole expanse of the sky. I have no idea how long I kneel there staring at the sky. I can't hear any of the familiar noises of the city, instead it's silent. Usually, silence bothers me, but now, the silence is comforting, almost as if enveloping me in an embrace.

The silence is broken when I hear something towards the entrance of the alleyway. "Aye, what are you doing over there?" A gruff voice inquires.

The voice shatters the silence and nearly has me on my back from surprise. I look to the mouth of the alleyway and see an individual that appears to be some sort of officer standing with hands on her hips. She wears a black, collared shirt and black, tailored pants. A badge hangs from the pocket right above her left breast. Thick, square-framed glasses sit on the bridge of her nose and the springy curls of her black hair jut freely, perfectly framing her face. Despite missing a proclivity for women, this officer has me in awe. My non-response clearly wasn't acceptable as she begins to walk towards me.

"Do I need to ask again?" Her tone implying that if she does, there will be trouble.

"No, uh, sorry." The best response I can muster. As my weak words reach her, there is a noticeable change from the hard-edge officer to an almost matronly concern.

"You poor thing. A lost soul." She says matter-of-factly. "By the looks of it, you must have been offed here. And all alone in this alleyway," she glances around mournfully. "No way for a young guy like you to go."

Her words infiltrated my mind and began to pulsate deep within me. A pit grew within my stomach as my mind attempted to grasp at a memory long gone. This pang of remembrance almost has me to tears, but I can't understand why. Then, almost as quickly as her words brought these feelings upon me, they were gone. Like a slate being wiped clean, my mind was back to wondering why the sky looks so odd and who this person speaking to me is.

She must have noticed the rapidly shifting emotions ravaging me. Her expression that had ranged from stern to pleasant to neutral now displayed only a deep pity, clearly directed at me. "Poor thing," she repeats as she extends her hand to me. "Watch Shaila Greet. What's your name, guy?"

I accept her outreached hand and she firmly grasps my hand, a warm calm washes over me. She hoists me up with a little too much force and I struggle to balance for a split second once I'm back on my feet. Confusion fogs my thinking, so it's not until she asks my name again that I realize I have yet to answer. "Sorry, I'm Mason."

"No need to apologize to me, Mason." She responds kindly and not so successfully hiding the pity in her voice. "Feel free to call me Shay. I only let friends call me that," she says while winking in a clear effort to lend me comfort.

"Thanks, Shay," I respond feeling relieved that she is here to help despite the strange circumstances. "This may be a stupid question, but where are we?" I question looking around. The buildings seem to be the same as I remember, but the sky is off and there seems to be a shimmering veil covering everything like dew clinging to grass on a warm summer morning. Beyond these differences, there are far more streetlights than I remember. Each of these streetlights casts a strong white light that extends farther than it should. Despite the surroundings being familiar, the strange changes that I have noticed have me awestruck and my mouth is agape in amazement.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Shay's eyes brighten, clearly glad to leave the discussion of my arrival to this place for now. "This is the Wandering Plane," she says as she waves her arm in a grand gesture. "A place for those who are lost and looking for their way." She continues as she begins to briskly walk towards the mouth of the alleyway. "People get here for a variety of reasons, but there's only one way out."

She is already at the opening to the alley by the time that she finishes this last sentence. I had a hard time keeping up with her, but when I reach the end of the alley, the rest of the Wandering Plane comes into view. If the view of the alley was enough to shock me, the rest of this odd world splayed in front of me has me nearly floored. Underneath the shimmering veil, it almost appeared as if everything was shifting. If I focused on one tree or building, it would stay fixed in place, but the objects on the edges of my vision would continue to morph.

"First rule," Shay's voice snaps me out of my stupor as I was focusing on a park bench, then a car, then a bank... "The Wandering Plane is a double-edged sword. It can help those who are lost find their way beyond, but it can lead the fool-hardy astray. All it takes is for you to focus on where you want to go and the Wandering Plane will get you there. As I'm sure you've noticed already, it is very easy to get distracted here." With that, she turns to me and gives me a knowing look.

She was right about that. While she was explaining this to me, my attention kept jumping from one thing to another. Trying to listen to Shay's words, I focus on the bus stop across the street. As soon as I am completely focused on it, my body reacts without me willing it to and begins walking towards the bus stop. Before I can make it three steps, a strong hand grasps my shoulder and pulls me back.

"Not so fast, guy." Shay's words break my concentration and the bus stop, like so many other things here, is lost to the fog of the Wandering Plane. "You'd do best to make sure you don't focus on the wrong things," Shay says with a slightly chastising tone. "That's how you get stuck here." This second statement carries more melancholy than warning. I look toward Shay, but her face is turned away from me. After a brief second, she turns back to me and any trace of sadness that had been there has been erased, and now, she is back to the confident smile with which I am familiar. "If you had made it to that bus stop, you'd have been waiting for a bus that was likely to never come."

Questions overwhelm me. What happens if you get stuck here? Who is Shay? How was she able to split her focus between me and the bus stop? Where do I need to go? These, among others, swirl inside my head, but I only manage to ask one. "Does everyone who ends up her get a guide like you?"

"I'm not really a guide, but that's a matter for another day." She says lightly. "But no, not everyone who comes to the Wandering Plane needs a guide. People who meet a natural end can usually find their way through the Wandering Plane pretty easily. The more tragic the end, the more likely the individual is to get los here." She casts a quick glance to me, to which the deep pit my stomach tries to respond.

Before that feeling can overtake me again, I change the subject of our conversation. "You said that there's only one way out of here. Where is that?" The pit recedes and it seems for now that I have conquered it.

Without noticing the battle raging inside of me, Shay responds. "Great question, guy. We need to head to the Department of Reincarnation, Department or DOR for short. The Workers there will help sort you out and help you leave the Wandering Plane," she says, once again, matter-of-factly.

Her explanation only adds to my growing list of questions. Reincarnation is real? What does she mean by "sort me out"? Again, only one question escapes from me. "How long have you been here?"

"I don't want to talk about that," she answers and, for the first time, there is a hard edge to her voice. It was clear that any further questions like that would be unappreciated. "Now, let's head to DOR, alright?" While technically a question, this was more of a command.

Worried that I upset her, I can only manage a nod. Fromt he mouth of the alley, we take a right and begin walking. We walk in silence for a block or two, during which my questions war with my concern that I upset Shay, and both wanting to take precedence. An unlikely question wins out.

"Hey, Shay," getting her attention, "you said 'first rule.' Are there any others?"

"Really, only one other one. You see these white lights?" She points to one of teh street lamps. I nod. "Stay as close to these as possible, but do not actually touch one under any circumstances." She says almost as a warning.

"Why?" At this point, I am getting exhausted due to the overload of information and this place, so this one word response is all I can muster.

"They will help to make sure to get you to where you are going," she says and lifts her hand to her hair and begins twisting a culr. Before I ended up in the Wandering Plane, I made it my business to seek out others' tells, and I just leanred Shay's. For the first time since I met her, Shay lies to me.