August 24, 2024, 3:47 pm
In the shadowy realm of consciousness, voices swirled around me, crackling with energy like dry twigs in a campfire.
Voices that seemed near, yet far off.
Children, adults. A barking dog. All of them steeped in panic.
My mind retreated to the darkness—a comforting haven that I didn’t want to leave.
Don’t wake up.
Don’t give in.
Despite my resistance, the physical world slowly crept in, imposing itself upon me. Tugging at me. Pulling me to the surface.
Don’t go there.
Keep the pain away.
Resist. Resist.
But reality demanded my attention, assaulting my senses one by one.
The scent of freshly mown grass. Pine trees. Wet clay.
The drone of a small outboard motor chugging away in the distance.
Blades of stiff Kentucky bluegrass prickling my neck, my arms.
A cool, damp cloth settling over my forehead.
A small hand stroking my shoulder.
A voice, clearer now. Familiar.
“Shouldn’t we call an ambulance?” It was my friend Rose.
“No, no. She has a history of fainting spells. It will pass. It always does.” My sister, Kendall.
“Is Auntie Syd going to be okay?”
“Oh, Connor. Of course she is. Please don’t be upset.”
“It wasn’t my fault.”
“I know. It was nobody’s fault.”
“Devin was supposed to be watching him, I swear. It was his turn.”
“It was not!” came Devin’s voice, distantly.
“Was too!”
“Boys! That’s enough. I’ll say it again: it was nobody’s fault. I don’t want to hear another word about it.”
Devin, closer now: “The lady said she knew Auntie Syd. And she had the same necklace. The one with the dragonfly on it.”
My eyes shot open.
Connor’s face surged into view. “She’s awake! Auntie Syd, are you alright? Do you want some water?”
Kendall nudged Connor away. “Okay, everyone. Give her some room.”
Everything went quiet. Even the sparrows and crows seemed to sense the trouble at ground level and stifled their chatter.
I grabbed the wet cloth from my forehead and flung it aside. Struggled to sit. Dizzy. God, I was so dizzy. Kendall and Rose steadied me, their hands supporting my back.
“Christopher,” I choked out before my throat closed, the memory of his disappearance slamming into me like a tidal wave. My vision blurred, tears flooding my eyes. I was powerless to hold back the sobs that followed, stiff and jarring in the quiet.
My baby was gone.
My sweet, innocent Christopher now existed in an entirely different timeline.
And without the talisman, my bridge to him had collapsed.
