The Dreamer

I know something the rest of the world can’t. Jillian Dupree’s books are real.

I know, I know… Keep reality and fantasy separate. But I’m telling you, I know for a fact that Jillian’s worlds are legit. The whole teleporting between the planets and magical hierarchy things are their way of life.

There’s no point in trying to prove it. Straight jackets aren’t my style. It’s a shame that our society can’t seem to accept things out of the ordinary. If only a dragon would fly over a major city, then maybe people would open their eyes. Then again, the dragons are too smart.

Can you imagine? A figure soars over Chicago, shimmering in summer’s warm light. It’s a glorious winged reptile, ready to protect the people below. There’s no threat to the innocent. But only the dragon knows. Do the authorities attempt to see what the beast is about? No, they’d launch fighter jets to shoot it down. Why wait to eliminate the threat?

Oh, and fairies! Andy McNeil’s fey stories are true to the elusive beings. If they showed face in public, they would be captured and studied.

You see, there are hidden worlds. The world at large isn’t ready to acknowledge the least of the truth. Scientists and other people of thought believe they know the way of things. Magic isn’t possible—it defies a host of sciences, not the least of which is physics. If a thing isn’t possible, then woe is the person who insists it is possible.

I’m going to get to Dupree’s worlds. You might wonder how Jillian would know about a place that far away, but I have it figured out. Well, partly. Either she is from there, or she knows someone who is. They got here the usual way. The teleportation device is strictly regulated because their Conglomerate believes in preserving untouched civilizations. It’s like Rodenberry’s Prime Directive. You don’t make contact until the people of that world are ready.

I have it figured out. I’m going to find a way to contact the observers, probably through my blog. If they don’t take me, I’ll expose the truth. There’s proof, I just have to find it. Of course it’s occurred to me that they might not hear my message. That’s why I’m practicing my telepathic abilities. Earth isn’t conducive to magic, but if I work hard enough, I’ll be able to do it. All I have to do is touch the Starter’s mind.

You don’t know who the Starter is? Read those books. They need a Starter for every interstellar teleportation. If it’s within the same system, a Starter can shuffle them without leaving his or her home base. I think I could be a Starter. Once I get to one of the magic-heavy worlds, my latent abilities will bust out. I can’t wait.

If I can get a hold of the local Starter, I’ll find the fairies. One of my ancestors must have been fey. They probably slipped from that world—I really think it’s a parallel dimension—into ours during a time of great energy. A huge volcanic explosion could provide the energy needed. Or that huge earthquake in California in 1906. My mom’s family came from the San Francisco area.

One way or another, I’m going to get out of here. Straight jackets really aren’t my thing. It was a mistake to tell my social worker that I’d be leaving with the Starter. He didn’t believe me. I tried to show him that I have the psychic ability to move things and read people’s minds. He didn’t understand that it was okay if I jumped from the hospital. You have to build up speed in a short distance to teleport.

Once I convince the people here that I’m not suicidal, I’ll get out. Then I’ll find the Starter or the fairies. One way or another, I’ll get to another world.

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CONGLOMERATE OBSERVATION TEAM, BASE TERRA

NATIVE ASSESSMENT REPORT

SUBJECT: WILLIAM J. KEMP

The human known as William J. Kemp has displayed tele-potential. However, this team’s Starter believes Kemp’s talent to be negligible. He will not be admitted to the Native Assimilation Program at this time. OBSERVER KLESZDAR TKOLGEN has been assigned to monitor KEMP for signs of talent progression.

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COT, BASE TERRA

UPDATE RE: WILLIAM J. KEMP

Subject is deceased. OBSERVER TKOLGEN reports that KEMP leaped from the facility where he has been a resident for the past six Terran months. It is believed that KEMP attempted a Jump. STARTER DELRAQ TKOLGEN was unable to intervene.

The Terran COT will undergo additional training in order to prevent another tragedy of this sort. This communiqué is the final entry to the file of WILLIAM J. KEMP of Chicago, Illinois, United States of America, Earth.

END TRANSMISSION

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This story may not be reproduced in any form without express written permission from MJ Twain.

He Sleeps

He sleeps, nestled against his mother’s chest, dreaming baby boy dreams. His mother kisses his blond head and inhales his sweaty-sweet aroma. Of all the futures she sees, his is closed to her

He stirs, his eyes flutter. She snugs the blanket up to his shoulders and sighs when he puts his fingers back in his mouth. She feels his muscles twitch in time with his even breathing.

To him, all is well. There are no worries beyond the nap. All is now, there is no was or will. His mother longs to experience this simplicity. Such a thing, of course, is impossible. Her guard must never waver. Vulnerability is not an option. Lack of confidence means death.

Another kiss to his fair brow. It is time.

She edges to a slit in the door. The street has appeared empty for hours, but it is the game they play. To them, it is a game. She is less than an insect in their regard. If she is destroyed, they will choose another.

Panic fights calm. For her son is to live, she must win. For him to be a free man, she must exceed all others before her.

She hesitates. Are they waiting around the corner? Maybe she lost them. She’d be dead by now if she hadn’t. Zephyr’s warning tugs at her. They’ve begun teasing the runners. Let them think they won. Take them down seconds before victory.

Still no sound from outside. No sense of nearby life, unless they’ve learned how to disguise that, too. Is that part of the tease, to let her think she retains her sole advantage?

The baby’s hand falls from his mouth, so deep is he in dreamland. She prays he lives to see a peaceful day.

She moves to the door jamb, presses her back to the wall. With what little remains of her source, she draws a misty veil around herself. As long as they don’t look directly at her, she’ll escape notice. She delivers a final kiss to her warm bundle then wraps her arms as tight as she dares. Using a slight source nudge, she opens the door just wide enough to slip through. She takes a shaky breath.

The little boy’s mother steps into the street.

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This story may not be reproduced in any form without express written permission from the author.