“Ever had one of those moments when your eyes close, thoughts fade, and your mind goes somewhere else? I did. But when I opened my eyes, I wasn’t home anymore.”
Polly West
Polly had seen many strange things, but this was a situation unlike any she’d experienced before. The white, glowing tunnel was tight, curved walls of netted tendrils like veins. They flashed by as she floated, hurtling through. In her luminous pale hand was the familiar glowing white sphere, hovering above her palm. Translucent purple tentacles sprung from it and wrapped about her entire slim body, protecting her as her long black hair flung before her round blue eyes. Protected as she was by the purple tentacles, her trajectory and, indeed, her destination were completely out of her control. She was at the mercy of the extraordinary elements around her.
So, how had Polly come to be in this bizarre predicament? Of course, that would be a perfectly sensible question at this time, and she wished she could answer it. But this time, she couldn’t. This wasn’t the first time strange things had happened to her. Strange things like this happened to Polly a lot and, to be honest, they were often her fault; there was a weight of guilt on her soul that no 19-year-old should have to bear.
But there was more. There was an ominous sense of dread, as if something utterly terrible had just happened. But her mind was numb. It was as if her memory had shut down and she’d suddenly found herself falling. She simply could not recall what had happened.
Suddenly, the white tendrils of the tunnel glowed brighter until they diffused and vanished. Polly was slammed into something hard. In her outstretched palm, the glowing, hovering white sphere ate up the retreating purple tentacles and then the sphere too vanished back into her palm.
She heard birds chirping and felt a warm breeze on her face. Asphalt lay beneath her hand. Unsteadily, she rose and dusted down her simple black dress and red tights. ‘Well,’ she muttered to herself, ‘this is somewhat anticlimactic.’
She stood in the street where she lived, in the empty road. Right beside her was her home. Other, virtually identical homes lined the sparsely gardened street in the Australian desert residential housing community. All very familiar. Simply put, it seemed she had taken the long and especially scenic route to just a few metres outside her home.
Oh man, had somebody seen her materialise from thin air? A residence in the Great Victoria Desert for employees of a hidden research facility was not a place where a young woman would want to stand out for all the wrong reasons. However, it seemed she was in the clear. Nobody was around. Everybody was at work.
Still trembling after her journey, she dug into her pocket for her front-door key. That feeling that something wasn’t quite right lingered as she opened the front door.
‘Dad?’ she called.
How much time had passed in the outside world as she’d travelled through the tunnel? The living room was oddly tidy, with none of the clutter of cups and bowls and snacks littering the small, adjoining kitchen. The couch looked bright and clean, almost new, and it was in the wrong place. Shrugging it off, Polly pocketed the key and strode into the short hallway.
‘Dad?’ she called again.
He was probably at work. Entering her own bedroom, she found no bedroom at all, no bed, no posters, no closet. There was only a stack of battered boxes, overflowing with knick-knacks, the room seemingly used for storage. But there was a presence here, emanating from something that ought to seem normal but felt entirely unnatural.
Pressed up against the wall like an intruder caught in the act was a strange mirror, narrow, body-length, murky greyness in its reflection. Gripped by an odd sense of foreboding, Polly slowly stepped before it. The greyness persisted; the mirror reflected nothing, not even herself. Raising a slender arm, she waved but saw nothing in the mirror but grey shadows.
The shadows parted. A girl appeared in the mirror, but it wasn’t Polly. Staring out from the mirror, the mysterious girl stood for a long while just as dumbly as Polly. She was short, stocky, probably a little younger than Polly’s 19 years. Her red hair was big and wild and untamed. In her freckled, plump round face was a small, doll-like mouth, but most striking of all were her tiny, glinting dark eyes.
The strange girl took a step back, raising an eyebrow. Apparently, she could see Polly. Chillingly, the doll-like mouth split into a mischievous grin. ‘It’s her,’ Polly heard the girl say.
Polly’s eyes met those of the girl just as surely as if she were in the room with her. The sense of foreboding bled through Polly into acute terror.
The girl stepped further back, enveloped by the greyness, and was gone.
Polly stared into the murk. It was more than a mirror; it was a doorway. Something terrible was on the other side. She could sense it and it horrified her.
Surrounded by some of the hardiest trees and plants in the world, Polly sat confused amongst bushland that lined one side of the residence. To be honest, she was sulking. From the top of the gentle rise, she could see most of the homes, the modest shops and even more modest school. Beyond was the cracked, dusty red desert. Strangely, nothing seemed quite right. Also, she was aware she had been scared out of her own home. Deep down, she knew she conspired with that fear too. The last thing she wanted was to go back in there again.
A shuffle sounded in the empty street below. A lone boy strolled, hands in pockets, sandy hair sticking up in tufts. He was good-looking, with a friendly, laidback air. He halted, turning and locking eyes with Polly. Polly had thought she’d known everybody in the isolated community, but she’d never seen this guy.
‘Everything alright?’ he called.
Clearly not, Polly thought. But who could possibly understand? She replied with a question of her own. ‘Who are you?’ she asked.
He smiled. ‘I’m Austin,’ he replied. ‘You?’
‘Polly,’ said Polly.
He scratched his head.
‘Polly West,’ she offered.
‘I know Hector West,’ he responded at a loss. ‘But he doesn’t have a kid.’
Polly’s stomach knotted at mention of her detested father, except somehow, he had no daughter. ‘Oh, bloody hell,’ Polly groaned. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. And she had a feeling it was going to get worse. She dropped her head onto tucked up knees, long black hair dangling.
She heard the boy lithely climb the rise, then felt his hand upon her shoulder, gentle and soothing. How did she not know him? More importantly, how did he not know her?
Pulling herself together, Polly brushed his hand aside. ‘Thanks,’ she said.
Austin stared into her eyes with his own cute, squinting eyes. ‘Do you have somewhere to go?’
His question pretty much nailed her situation. ‘Actually, I don’t,’ Polly admitted.
Thinking, he glanced helplessly about then looked back down at her. ‘Look, I’m not doing anything special right now,’ he said. ‘How about you come with me, and we’ll take it from there, huh?’
