So much can happen in such a short period of time.  Death can come in an instant.  Or a life path can be irrevocably altered.  It all depends on a split second decision made by someone.  How many split second decisions make up a life?
***
The car tires crunched as they turned onto the gravel of the farm’s drive way.  More workers littered the fields now that the incessant rain of the last few days had abated.  Ashton watched heads turn to follow their progress up the drive.  By the time the car pulled into place next to his Mother’s prius, she stood on the porch waiting.

They stepped out of the car. He expected hysteria.  Not irritation, nor bizarre acceptance.  He had gone out of phase and disappeared from the kitchen in the middle of a conversation.  Instead she put her hands on her hips and berated him for causing her worry.  
 
“After the last year you can’t just disappear on me.  I only just got you back.”  

He stumbled on the bottom step.  “I’m sorry Mom.  I didn’t mean to.”

“And now you’re going to have to go again?  Aren’t you?” She turned her glare to the detective next to him.  “Is he under arrest?”

“Not at this time, Ma’am.” 

She crossed her arms over her chest after waving them to continue climbing the steps.  A gravely laugh sounded from behind him and he watched his mother smile.

His head snapped to look over his shoulder.  Tourmaline’s large bulk sat on the car’s roof.  That explained the thump at the beginning of the drive.  But his Mother’s reaction wasn’t so easy to explain.  He could hear her strike up a conversation with the gargoyle after they entered the house.  Did she just invite him into the back garden for tea and cakes?  

His feet hit the rug runner at the base of the staircase.  Would his life ever take on a normalcy again?  The pictures blurred on the wall as he ascended.  He reached the landing at the top.  Will I ever stop being surprised by things?  He shoved open his bedroom door.

Bryce’s presence shadowing him made his back itch.  The detective went to the window and pulled the blinds up to look out over the garden.

“Does your Mother talk to herself a lot?”

Ashton hesitated as he pulled his old duffel off the shelf in the closet.  He tossed it on the bed before glancing out the window.  Tourmaline sat next to a small wrought iron table a tea cup incongruously held in his thick fingers.  His mother puttered around pouring tea and serving lemon cake.  This was just not processing.

“She, ah, likes to talk to her plants.  Helps them grow, you know.”  He returned to the closet and sorted through his clothing.  Tossed a pile onto the bed, then added a blank notebook and some other odds and ends.  Loosely folding the clothes, he shoved them into the bag then crammed everything else in where it would fit.

He picked up the duffel and slung it over his shoulder then threaded his coat through the strap. Turning to Bryce he said, “Ok.  I think I’m ready.”

The detective nodded and led the way out of the room.  Ashton paused on the threshold to take one more look at his old life.  I don’t fit anymore.  Do lost puzzle pieces ever find a new place?  No answer was forthcoming, so he turned away and followed Bryce down the stairs.  

He found his mother serving Bryce a piece of cake in the kitchen.  She looked at him for a moment when he entered.  Her eyes bored into his then she said, “Ash, honey, I know you need to leave soon but there’s time for some cake.  Go on out to the garden and help yourself.”  

He couldn’t interpret her look.  Why does she see T?  And why isn’t she freaking out?  

Realizing he wasn’t going to get any answers standing there, he left the kitchen.  The gargoyle slid a piece of cake across the small table to him. Ashton set his bag down and sank to the chair, but he didn’t touch the cake.

“Why are you here?”

The gargoyle shrugged. “Why not?  You obviously need help.  And the humans have no idea what you are up against, so they can’t protect you.”

“And you can?”

“Maybe.  Maybe not.  But I certainly helped today.”

“And you know what I’m up against?”

Tourmaline laughed. It sounded like boulders rubbing together.  “Hell no, kid.  But I know more than the humans.”

“Like what?”

He waved his hand encompassing the garden.  “Take this land for starters.  It feels like the park in town.  Nothing will grow there.”

“Wait?  What?  You’ve lost me.”

“The energy of the forest there?  Didn’t you feel the difference?  It’s the same here.  The energy is skewed.  It’s too dark.  The equilibrium is lost, so the ecosystem is off balance.”  

Ashton’s thoughts raced.  My dreams.  What I have always wanted to do.  Just on a much grander scale.  Warmth slipped through him from his mark.    He absently rubbed his chest.

“And you’re sure I can do something to fix it?”

“The little flitterby faeries seemed to think so.  And obviously someone else does too, if they are trying to get rid of you.”

Ashton looked out over the fields for a moment.  The struggling plants.  The beautiful weather.  But then he noticed something else.  The cottage gardens surrounding the house.  They flourished.  Bright and vibrant.  Like they lived in a bubble separated from the surrounding fields.  

Fear raced through him at the implication.  I need to go.  He stood and grabbed his bag.  Tourmaline rose to his feet.  

They made their way towards the house.  “So, T? What were you talking to my Mom about? And why could she see you?”

The gargoyle arched an eyebrow.  “And where do you think your talent came from Kid?”

That’s what I was afraid you’d say.  
 
******

Ashton stood at the foot of the motel’s bed and sorted through the contents of his bag while doing his best to not laugh at T’s commentary about Detective Bryce.  The good detective just wouldn’t understand.  After all he thought only two of them were in the room, not three.  

“I don’t know how long we’ll be here for Ashton.  Our investigation hasn’t had enough leads to get anywhere definitive.”  Bryce said.

“In other words, Ash.  They don’t know squat.”  

“But today’s incident has made it abundantly clear that you are in danger.”

“So you’d better fess up pony boy.  Cause you obviously know what’s going on.”  Tourmaline translated.

 Ashton smirked at the stone being, but kept his head lowered to look in his bag.  He didn’t want to give the detective any ideas about his sanity. 

“It would really help us get you back to your mother if you would finally give me what you know.”

Ashton stilled with his hands in his bag.  He stared at the interior without seeing it for a moment.  “I wish I could help you Daniel.  Trust me when I say that anything I know won’t help you at all.” Thoughts of his mother’s garden, and what surrounded it, uppermost in his mind.  He looked up at the detective’s serious expression. Tourmaline watched him solemnly from behind the man.  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you anyway.”

“Try me…”  Bryce swore when his phone trilled.  He pulled it out of his pocket.  “Yes?”  The detective’s face turned stoic.  “Hold on Frank.”  He muffled the phone against his chest.  “I’ll be just outside Ashton.  We’ll finish this discussion in a moment.”  

Ashton turned to T when the door snicked shut.  “Now what? He’s not going to believe anything I say, T.”

“No.  Probably not.”  The gargoyle sat up against the wall of the dingy little hotel room.  “I guess the better question is; what do we do next?”

“I… Ow.  What was that?”  Ashton looked down and saw a stunned mouse pick itself up from where it ran into his ankle.  It then continued to flee towards the door.  Tourmaline hissed and Ashton jerked his attention away from the rodent’s scrabbling claws on the door.  The carpet across the room seethed.  Spiders scurried across.  More dropped from the ceiling and other creatures followed.  Cockroaches, flies, anything that could live in the walls or nooks and crannies of a motel room fled from the bathroom side, along the same path as the mouse.   

His eyes tracked back to the source.  A tar like black ooze squeezed out from under the bathroom door.  Spiders and other insects crawled over his feet, but he didn’t notice them.  “What is that?!”

“Ashton.  Get out of here.  Now.”

A wave of fear washed over him.  So strong that he staggered to the side and knocked into the table.  A lamp crashed over and shattered.  Ashton fell to his knees his eyes riveted on the creeping ooze. The still form of the gargoyle in the corner of his eye, and the feeling of the insects crawling across him, barely registered as the fear grew.

The door crashed open behind him, the sound of Bryce’s voice far away.  A little sliver of Ashton’s free will let him know that the detective had been snared in the creeping mass’net, as well.

Beyond shivering, Ashton’s heart labored with the weight of the fear.  Each pump became painfully hard.  A tiny core of his mind skittered, looking for a way to flee and follow the bugs. 

An equine scream exploded in his mind and his mark blazed.  His body jerked free.  He pulled his shirt open.  The white light blazing from his mark hit the leading edge of the ooze.  It recoiled but didn’t retreat.  More instructions poured into his thoughts, a presence merged with him, and he gladly gave over to the more knowledgeable being.

He stood and white light, more intense than anything that had ever emanated from his mark, poured from the palms of his hands.  A piercing shriek rent the air as the ooze twisted in on itself.  He slowly stepped toward it.  The dizzying gyrations made him nauseous.  The light continued to burn from his hands.  Finally, after an eternity that could only be a few seconds, the ooze fled out the bathroom window.  Leaving the most horrific stink behind.  

His breath rasping in his lungs, Ashton sank to his knees.

“What the fuck was that?”  Bryce whispered.

“Your murderer.”  The thinness of his voice surprised Ash. “Other than that, I have no idea what it was.”

“Don’t give me that crap, Ashton.  I saw with my own eyes what you did.  That’s proof that you know more than you were letting on.”

“And who’s going to believe you, Daniel?”  Ashton turned his head and the detective opened his mouth then closed it with a snap. “Exactly.  Now you know why I didn’t tell you.  T?  Are you alright?”

Ashton pulled himself painfully to his feet.

“I probably have stress fractures all through my stone now.  But I guess I have to answer, ‘yes’.”

The detective darted looks into every corner of the room.  “Who are you talking to?”

“A friend, Daniel. Don’t worry.  I think we now have an answer to your question, T.  It’s time to move.”

Bryce limped over to the door and shut it.  “You can’t leave Ashton.  You are in protective custody.  Besides, I have a case to solve and you just became my biggest lead.”

“Obviously you can’t protect me from that, Daniel.  I need to go.”

“I need your information.  I need to know what we are up against and how to stop it.  People’s lives are hinging on this Ashton.”

Ashton zipped up his bag and slung it over his shoulder.  “Trust me, I understand that more than you know.  I can’t give you what you want, Daniel.  I don’t know.  That’s what I need to go and learn.  The only thing I can tell you is…Stay out of the park.  Keep people out of it.  That black ooze… That is what lives there.”

Tired to the bone, Ashton attempted to call on his power, on purpose, for the first time since his homecoming.  It ran slowly and quietly through his veins, but enough responded that he managed to shift out of phase.  The surprised look on detective Bryce’s face gave him all the confirmation he needed that he had succeeded.  He looked at Tourmaline and the two of them left the motel room and headed off towards the park.

He walked as a shadow in his own world.  A few Others saw him, but mostly he tried to avoid the reminder of how different his life had become.  He figured he’d be facing that truth soon enough.  It didn’t take them long to reach the border of the park.  This time Ashton could see and understand the death and darkness that hovered around the space.

Now what?  I haven’t the faintest idea where I’m supposed to go.  If only…  

Movement down the path caught his eye.  His breath stilled.

“Silren.”

The unicorn stepped out of the shadows of the trees and stopped where the grass met the forest.  Across the distance Ashton met the blue eyes of the stallion.  They both studied one another.  Then Ashton took a step towards the unicorn.  Silren hesitated, but then he moved out to meet him halfway.

“Ok.  This is no time to panic.”  

Cars buzzed by on the busy arterial.  An hour.  I lost an hour.  He pushed the panic down.  How did I get here?  There wasn’t any fog.  I didn’t step through a mark.  I didn’t call up my power at all.  

He ran his hand through his hair and stared across the street.  At first glance, the park looked just the same.  But then, something edged into his awareness.  He couldn’t put his finger on what was wrong with the place, but something was off kilter.  He shook his head.  He didn’t have the time or energy to analyze whatever it was.  He had bigger fish to fry.  

Like how did I get an hour away from my Mom’s house, and back into town?  Absently, he turned away from the park and walked down the familiar street.  He still found it difficult to believe that a year had passed.  If he didn’t know any better, he’d think he was returning to work from lunch.  The only sign of the passage of time came from the shop windows.  And that he probably wouldn’t have noticed under normal circumstances.  

Absently, he rubbed his chest.  What am I going to tell my Mom?  I had to have just walked out on her.  I can’t believe this is still happening?  I’m never going to get my life back, am I?  

“Hey, you?”  A deep, gravelly voice called out.  

Ashton stopped and scanned the pedestrians.  No one paid him any heed, so he shrugged, moving on.  

“You.  Unicorn bait.  Look up.”

Ashton froze midstep.  Do I even want to?  Sighing, he obeyed the voice and tipped his head up.  Perched atop the carved crenellations of one of the historic buildings, a stone gargoyle waved his wings at him.  A sharp, toothy grin preceded the beast jumping off the roof.  Ashton’s heart thumped, waiting for the crack of heavy rock hitting pavement.  But somehow the creature’s wings let it gracefully fly to touch down, with a soft scrape of stone against stone in front of him.  

Ashton took a step back.

“Hey, Kiddo.  I haven’t seen you in a long time.”  The beast settled back onto his haunches. Sitting, the gargoyle came eye to eye with him.  His wing joints, folded neatly on his back, rose a foot above both their heads.  Sunlight caught what must be flecks of mica and sparkled.  

“Um, hello?”  Ashton said.

“Hiya.  I’m Tourmaline.  But you can call me T for short.”

“Ashton.”  He replied faintly.

“Good to finally meet you.  I haven’t seen you for months.  Had figured they musta gotten you, once the darkness started.  So, what are ya doing back?”

“This has to be right up there as one of the strangest days, yet, for me.  And I have stiff competition for that title.  I have no idea what I’m doing here to tell you the truth.  Last I knew, I was standing in my Mom’s kitchen an hour ago.”

“Ah.  That explains the zombie shuffle you were doing down the street a few minutes ago.”  T stood and held his arms out and slid a few steps moaning.  “You just needed your arms out like that to complete the picture.” 

He settled back down into a sitting position.  “Seriously, if you hadn’t been out of phase you would have been pancaked by the moving van you shared the road with before you came back to yourself.”  

Ashton swallowed.  Pancaked?  “Out of phase?”

“You know.  Not in sync with this veil.  It’s related to being able to shift to a different veil but isn’t quite the same thing.  We’re not usually supposed to talk about this sort of thing with you humans.  Heck, most of you don’t believe we exist if you do see us.  But considering the company you had been keeping last year I figure you must know something?  The majority of us Others can go out of phase, though we can’t travel to a different veil without a guide.  It’s a defense mechanism.”  

“I didn’t know I could do it.  So I was just walking down the middle of the street?”

“Yep.”

Ashton met the gargoyle’s silver-flecked eyes for a long moment.  “Why did you stop me now?”

Tourmaline twitched his wings and stared down the road toward the park.  “The energy around here is turning so dark.  Something is feeding in the woods.  There’s been more death there than the humans know.”  The stone creature turned serious eyes back at him. “You are a bright light in the darkness. The faeries, the unicorn, all drew close to you.  And now you are back; unaccompanied…”

The gargoyle froze midsentence, then swiveled to look over his shoulder.  A grating growl rumbled out of him and he jumped in front, blocking Ash’s view.

Two loud cracks reverberated in the corridor of the street.  Stone chips exploded, spraying Ashton.  “What the hell.”

“Move.  Get into that alley, kid.”

Hunching over to stay protected by Tourmaline’s body and spread wings; Ashton rushed into the enclosed space of the alley.  

“Can this nightmare get any worse?”  His mark started to heat and he groaned.  “Not now.” Caging his wild power took some effort, but he got it under control.  

Tourmaline hissed, but then straightened and stood back behind Ashton.  “Here comes the cavalry kid.”

Boot steps thudded down the sidewalk.  Their owner dashed around the corner to place his back against the wall.  Ashton recognized Detective Bryce.  

The Detective’s gun was drawn, and he looked Ashton over before turning his attention to the street. His free hand held his radio.  He lifted it to his mouth.  “I have him.  Get the street clear, and get a car to me.  Now.  Over.”

Still studying the street, Bryce asked, “Are you Ok, Ashton?”

“I… I think so.”

“What are you doing here?  I’m not sure how the shooter didn’t hit you.  Whoever your friend was that got you in here, you should thank for your life if you see him again.”

Ashton looked up at T in surprise.  

The gargoyle just grinned and shrugged.  “I’m out of phase.  You can see me, but he can’t.”

Another shot ricocheted, and brick dust fluttered to the ground.  Bryce flinched.  “Come on people.  Get us out of here.”  He sent over the radio.

Car tires squealed and screeched to a stop a couple of feet from the entrance to the alley.  A back door flew open.  Tourmaline pushed him forward and Bryce grabbed his wrist, yanking him under his chest. Bryce forced him into a run.  The detective’s body hovered over the top of him then shoved him into the car diving in behind.  The door slammed shut.  A loud thump hit the roof and the car sagged down.

“What the hell was that?”  Bryce said.

“No idea, sir.”  The driver yelled back and stepped on the gas.

His mind whirled from the various events of the day.  Ashton sat back and watched Detective Bryce regain his breath.

It didn’t take long. Bryce studied him, then said, “You obviously know more than you are letting on, if they want you dead.”

Ash shook his head.

“What’s our destination, sir?”  The driver asked.

Bryce didn’t take his eyes off of him.  “Take us to the first safe zone.”

“No.”  Ashton leaned forward.

“They obviously want you dead, Ashton.  And whether or not you tell me anything,doesn’t change their desire.  I need to take you to a safe house.”

“Fine.  But at least let me grab some things and say good bye to my Mom.”

The Detective chewed his lip for a moment, then turned to the driver and gave him his mother’s address before settling back into the seat for the drive.  “What were you doing here today, Ashton?”

“The truth?  I have no idea how I got there.”

“Uh huh?  Do you remember anything from the last year yet?”

“Week.”

“Right.  The last week.  Well?”

Ashton shrugged his shoulders.  They continued to stare at one another until Ash got tired of it and turned to watch the scenery go by.

After awhile, Bryce broke the silence softly, “you’re damn lucky that we had surveillance on your old lab, Ashton.  Or we wouldn’t have been there to save you.”

Ashton turned away from the rolling countryside and met Bryce’s eyes.  “Who’s to say that you did?”

The click of the door latch woke Ashton with a start.  The curtain rattled.  He opened his eyes, expecting to see the nurses again.  Instead, his mother’s curly brown head peeked around the edge.

He blinked the sleep away. 

“Oh, my baby.”  She whispered.  “You really are back.”

A wave of patchouli scented air forged ahead of the diminutive woman as she rushed to his side. Tears brimming, she reached out a trembling hand and brushed his hair back.  “I had almost started to believe the naysayers.  They told me you were gone, and that I needed to move on.  But I wouldn’t accept it.  I told them that if I generated enough positive energy, the universe would make things right.”

“It’s all right Mom. I’m fine.”  He ducked his head away from her petting.

Sniffling, she gave him a watery smile.  “It’s been so long Ash.  A full year of worry.”

He pushed the buttons to raise the bed into a sitting position.  “I just saw you last week Mom.”   

She sighed and pulled the chair closer.  She sat in a swirl of tie dyed skirts.  “The doctor warned me that you had some amnesia.  You have been gone a year, baby.  It’s been the worst year of my life.”

“I don’t understand what’s happened, Mom.  But I assure you, I have only been gone for a week. The fact that it seems to have been a year here, is somewhat worrisome.”   

She patted his leg.  “Don’t worry dear, it’ll come back to you eventually.”  

He growled and flopped his head into his pillows.  

She cleared her throat.  “You don’t look like you have lost much weight this year.”  

“No, Mom.”  He closed his eyes.  “Maybe a pound or two, that’s it.  I’m really sore and bruised.  That’s the worst of my pains.”

Silence stretched.  He felt her fingers slide into his hand.  

“Are you ready to come home? The doctor said that as soon as you were awake we could start the check out proceedings.”  

Home.  With his Mother.  He suppressed a sigh.  “Yeah. Let’s go.”

He opened his eyes to reach for the call button, but she pushed it before he could.  

I wonder how long before I can get a new apartment?  He let his Mother’s voice wash over him, telling him about the last year. Thankfully, this early in the morning, they didn’t have long to wait for the doctor.  

The door opened, and the curtain was pushed all the way to the wall.  The same doctor from yesterday smiled cheerily.  “So how are we feeling today, young man?”

Ashton opened his mouth to speak, but his Mother beat him to it.

“He still thinks he has only been gone for a week, Doctor.”  

The doctor laid his notebook on the counter.  “Not surprising.  His memories will filter back in over the next few days to weeks, if they are to return. How is the pain today, Ashton?”  

“The bruises have made him stiff and sore.”  

“Mom.”

The doctor winked at him as he took the pen light out of his pocket.  Ashton squinted at the bright flash.  

“Stiffness from bruises is also to be expected.  Let’s take a look at that rash, shall we?”  He pulled the gown away from the mark and studied it.  “Have you been to the south recently?  Do you remember?  This resembles a STARI tick rash.  I’ll be sending you home with enough doxycycline to finish out the antibiotic run I’ve started.  If it doesn’t improve, you’ll need to come back in.”

Ashton shook his head.  “No tick exposure.”  And this is not a rash.  I’m sure of it.  I think. 

The doctor prodded the mark with cool fingers and pursed his lips.  “Ok, lean forward so I can get a gander at the back of your head.”  

Ash winced when the doctor parted his hair and probed the goose egg on his skull.  “Good, the swelling has gone down.  The scan results show no extensive bleeding, so it’s just a localized hematoma.  But if nausea increases, vision turns unreliable, or anything at all worries you, don’t hesitate to return to the hospital.”  

He leaned back into his pillows.  “Thank you, Doctor.”

The doctor smiled.  “Your body has had a hard run recently. Take it easy and give it time to recover.  Both physically and mentally.”   

“Can I go now?”

“Yes.  Once I finish signing the papers, you are free to go.  Your clothes are in the closet.”

The doctor ushered his mother out of the room, giving him privacy to dress.  He swung his legs over the side and groaned at the stiffness.  Just get moving.  It’ll work itself out.  He dragged his folded clothes off of the closet shelf and set them on the bed.  Untying the gown, he took it off, then wadded it up and tossed it on the pillows.  

The mark over his heart caught his attention.  Hesitantly, he touched it.  A bright flash of memory, the image of a sharp horn descending to pierce his skin, took his breath.  There and gone.  No.  Not a rash.  

He shivered.

******

It took nearly an hour, when all was said and done, to get clear of the hospital.  Ashton stared out the passenger window of his Mother’s Prius. The summer rain fell steadily on the country lane.  Dark clouds hung low, triggering more memories to surface.  Fiery eyes stared after him in a grey and desolate landscape.  He rubbed his chest and pushed the recollections away.  

The last hour of driving had stretched Ashton’s nerves.  The preoccupation of piecing together the events of his missing week made conversation with his mother difficult.  Thankfully, a few more minutes would see them to her cottage.  

She slowed and turned onto her winding driveway.  The cottage sat at the rear of the twenty acre parcel.  The car meandered past tidy fields of organic produce that she grew and sold to local restaurants.  He waved at the surprised face of his mother’s farm manager, as they drove by a plot of beans.  He knew she loved her farm, but her passion, and the majority of her income, came from her pottery studio.

Lightning flashed and the rain increased, if that were possible.  Thunder rumbled.  The car silently rolled to a stop in front of a white picket fence.  Flowers clung soggily to it, or lay flat on the ground.  The little white house with bright blue trim stood as a merry contrast to the force of nature around them.  

His Mother stared out the windshield.  “Nothing has grown well all year.  If it wasn’t for my pots the farm wouldn’t make it another season.”

His eyes jumped to her profile.  “Has the weather been that bad?”

“That’s the thing, no it hasn’t.”  She said.  “Not really. Just can’t get the seeds to grow. If they come up at all, they are sickly, puny things more often than not.”

With a sigh, she opened her door and stepped out into the rain.

Not relishing the drenching to come, Ashton followed his Mother into her house.  The inviting comfort of home enveloped him.  He shut the door and the sound of the rain diminished.  He shook his damp hair out, then accepted the kitchen towel his mother handed him.  After drying his face and arms, he hung the cloth up on the hook by the sink.  

For being a year away, nothing seemed different.  

His stomach growled. His mother snorted.

“Your clothes, and some of the more fragile of your things, are up in your room.  Most of your possessions, I stored out in the barn when I cleared out your apartment.  Why don’t you go get settled in and I’ll make us an early lunch?”  

“Ok.  Call when it’s ready.”  He took his shoes off by the kitchen door and padded in his damp socks to the hall stair.  My room.  It’s been a week for me.  A year here. Yet, it feels like no time at all has passed since I was a teen, living here.  

He opened his old bedroom door.  Trophies from childhood still filled the shelves above the desk, but more recent belongings had been tucked in amongst them.  Some of his personal work notebooks formed a stack on the back of the desk, next to his microscope.  The bookshelf held the same dichotomy of possessions.  Old comics had been moved over to make room for some of his books, both work related and pleasure reading.  He ran his fingers over the spines.

As he looked around, his shoulders bowed under a heavy weight.  He sank to the bed.  His hand rested over the mark under his shirt.  He imagined he could feel a low throbbing heat, different but a minor harmony to his heart’s beat.  

What is real?  I remember the last week.  It’s fantastical.  How can that be real?  It’s much more sane to believe everyone else’s assertion that I’ve been somewhere for the last year.

Much more sane than thinking that I can move through different worlds with magical abilities.  Resulting from a rash.  

Or more precisely, a mark left from the breath of a NightMare. 

What am I supposed to do now?  

My job is gone.  And they are under investigation by the police, anyway.  I can’t tell the police what actually happened to me, because they would just lock me up and throw away the key.  

Maybe they should.  

Since, insane or not, I believe everything that has happened to me this week.  The question I have now is, why has a year passed for everyone else? 
 
****

Three days later, the afternoon sun streamed through the living room windows.  A very welcome change from the soggy weather that had dominated since his return to his Mother’s house.  Too bad stress can’t be dried up like the puddles.  

Stress from keeping his returning memories a secret.  Stress from the question of reality.  

The mark on his chest burned.  He pushed the pain down and made it subside.  

I need to get my life moving again.  I can’t stay smothered here.  Mom is great, but…  The telephone rang and he heard his mother’s voice in the kitchen raise in anger.   

“How did you get this number?  How did you know he was back?  No he isn’t taking calls.  Go the fuck away.”

He crossed the threshold in time to see her slam the receiver down.  She looked up at him, guilt and fear warred on her face.  

“Who?”  He asked softly.

“It doesn’t matter.” She replied.  “You’re back safe and sound.  That’s what’s important.”

“Mom.  I need to handle my life.  You can’t shield me from everything.  Who tried to contact me?  And why?”

He glanced at his watch.  Two thirty.  Still time to get a start on things.  I can return this call...  His Mother’s voice drifted across his awareness.  Too faint to catch her answer to his questions.  The mark burned bright.  He gasped.  He needed to do something.  Be somewhere. He stumbled a step.  What was I doing?  

Oh yeah, I need to get back to living my life.  “I’m not a baby anymore Mom.  I…

He looked up.  He no longer stood in his mother’s kitchen.  

The noise from the traffic penetrated his awareness.  He stood on the street corner, across from the park where he met Josephine and Silren for the first time.

He glanced at his watch.  It read three thirty. 
 
 

Quiet beeps, with the under tone of a droning hum, serenaded Ashton to consciousness.  The pounding in his skull made him wish he hadn’t woken.  He pried his weighted eyelids open to look blearily at a white-tiled ceiling.  He started to turn his head, but the ache in his neck stopped him, so he tried to raise his hand to his forehead.

The rattle and clank, followed by his hand jerking to a stop, startled him.  He pulled on his tethered wrists.  Screw the pain.  He twisted his head to stare, dumbfounded, at the cause of his inability to move.  Metal handcuffs secured both of his arms to the bed rails.  He looked farther afield.  Machines, some dark, some alive, stood sentinel around him.  And a thin, green cotton drape stretched across a corner of the room that must contain a door.

Hospital?  What happened?  

A soft scrape jerked Ash’s attention to the opposite corner of the room. 

A man with styled brown hair, and dressed in a suit shifted in the room’s visitor chair.  His dark eyes made Ashton uncomfortable.  They stared at one another for a minute before the person cleared his throat.

“Ashton Palmer?”

Ash blinked, trying to bring his eyes under control.  “What happened?”  He was surprised at how rough his voice sounded.

“That’s what we would like to know.  Are you Ashton Palmer?”

“Yes.”  He jerked his wrists.  “Why am I tied?”

“I am Detective Bryce.  Your ID declared that you were Mr. Palmer, but I needed your confirmation.  Your reappearance has caused you to become a person of interest.” 

“Reappearance?” Confused, Ashton rattled the cuffs in a vain attempt to scoot into a sitting position. 

“Why did you enter the Millers’ apartment?”

“Who?”  He gave up the effort to sit, and flopped back.  “What happened?  Where am I?”

The detective continued without answering his questions.  “Where have you been for the last year?”

Ashton’s jaw dropped and he shook his head, sending more pain shooting.  Nausea roiled in his stomach.  “What?”

“A missing persons report was filed by a Mrs. Lydia Palmer on July twentieth of last year.  I had almost decided that you should be added to the list of possible victims, but here you are instead.”

A year?  What the hell?  That doesn’t seem right.  Blurry memories trundled through his thoughts.  Something weird had definitely happened. 

Wait a minute.  Victims?  

The sound of a door opened, then the curtain rattled and slid to the side.  A middle aged doctor walked in, followed by a nurse.

“Ah, you’re awake finally.”  He said as he set the clipboard down on the counter.  “Detective, I hope you haven’t been badgering my patient?” 

Bryce cleared his throat and leaned back in the seat.  “Just asked him a few questions, doc.”

The doctor studied one of the monitors.  “Really?  The alarms at the nurses’ station went off because his heart rate accelerated.” 

He pulled a pen light out and Ashton blinked at the bright light that flashed into his eyes.  The nurse busied herself, writing down readings from the rest of the monitors.  But Ashton had trouble concentrating on the medical staff.  Detective Bryce held his awareness.  

The doctor reached across the bed, cutting off the detective’s gaze, to pull the flimsy patient gown over Ashton’s shoulder.  He probed the exposed skin with cool fingers.

“How are you feeling?  Any pain here?  No?  Good, the rash doesn’t seem to be spreading.”  The doctor sat on the bed next to his knees.  “I’m going to assume you don’t have a problem with your name, or Detective Bryce would have mentioned it when we came in.  Do you know the date?”

Ashton felt sweat start to form.  He shook his head.  “I thought I did, but now… I don’t know.” 

The doctor encouraged him to continue with a gesture.

“He says I have been gone a year?  That can’t be right?  I have only been gone a week.  I’m sure of it.” 

Compassion softened the doctor’s eyes.  “You have a concussion, Ashton.  Some level of amnesia isn’t unheard of.  The memories will likely return after a few weeks.  Do you remember getting hit on the head?”

Ashton closed his eyes.  A slide show of distorted pictures flicked through.  Racing through a forest on horseback.  Summer heat, fall leaves, wet snow.  Strange faces flickering in torch light.  Opening his apartment door…

And everything was wrong. 

Has it really been a year?  I swear it feels like I was only gone for a week.  “I went home.  And when I opened my door, all of my stuff was gone.  This woman came out of my bedroom and started to scream and that’s all I remember.” 

“Mrs. Miller’s husband hit you from behind and knocked you out.  A little extreme, from my point of view.  I have you on antibiotics for the rash that you have on your chest, and I’ll prescribe some Amitriptyline for the concussion symptoms.  Unless any of your symptoms worsen over night, you will be released tomorrow.”  The doctor stood, then collected his paperwork.  “I’ll let you and Detective Bryce get back to your conversation.”   

Ashton watched the doctor and nurse leave the room, then turned reluctant eyes toward the detective.  He rattled his hands.  “Do these need to stay?”

Ashton felt like an insect that a reptile watched, trying to decide if it was on the menu or not.  But then, Bryce climbed to his feet and pulled the keys out of his pocket.  After a moment, both handcuffs resided in the detective’s pocket and Ashton rubbed his wrists.  “What did you mean by victim?”

Detective Bryce sank back into the chair and leaned back.  “So, is your official story that you don’t remember anything?”

“What do you mean official?  I really have only been gone for a week.  I don’t know what’s going on.  Where is my stuff?  Why is someone else living in my apartment?”  Panic bubbled just under the surface. 

“So, where have you been this week then?”

“I…”  Ashton snapped his mouth shut.  What was he supposed to say?  A unicorn kidnapped me?   Unicorn?!  A clear memory slammed into him and he saw the white hide and lethal horn.  His breath caught.  His eyes jumped to Bryce’s. 

The detective watched him with a calculated look.

“I… don’t actually know.”  He pulled his eyes away and looked at his blanket-clad knees.  “It’s all really blurry still.”

“Blurry… Huh.  Well your old lab, at Dyson-Smith Corporation, is under investigation.  There have been a dozen deaths that I am tracing back to them.  And at least as many missing.  You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“Dead?  Are you kidding me?  Dead how?”

“Forensics is still working on that.  Some sort of drug, we are assuming.  Whatever it is, it literally scares them to death.” 

Phantom pain fluttered over his chest, and Ashton scooted into a higher sitting position.  More flashes of memory came and went, too quick to hold onto.

The detective sighed and stood.  “Your mother should be here in the morning and you will be released into her care.  I expect notification of your whereabouts.  I have my eye on you Mr. Palmer.”

Ashton watched the detective leave his room.  My mom.  Great.  Just what I needed.  

His thoughts circled back to what detective Bryce had to say.  The acid of fear burned in his gut. 

How can I give him answers I don’t have?  This week is still blurry.  But a year?  

I can’t have been gone for a year.  Can I?