Funhouse

It was another day on Earth and a particularly frosty day in the small mundane town of Finch where a woman named Esel had spent most of her 35 years of earthling life. Esel lived alone in her small stone cottage, passed down to her by her mother, nestled atop a hill on the outskirts of the town. From the outside the house was a picture of peace, the chimney puffed into the night sky and snow drifted restfully downwards. Esel had little awareness, apart from some meagre stirrings at the back of her brain, that tonight would be a stranger night than usual.

The dial tone hummed against her ear and Esel tapped her long fingers rhythmically against the table. She slammed down the phone when the dial went unanswered.

Why does no one answer me? Esel thought angrily.

She pushed her chair away from the table, it scraped across the cheap linoleum like a distressed possum. Esel had been calling her three friends on rotation for two hours now.

They’ve abandoned me. But what else is new?

Esel’s three friends had in fact made a pact to not answer Esel’s calls passed 9 pm. She had worn out their patience with her constant calling, which always began around 9 pm like a dripping faucet turned on at the same time every day.

Esel’s mind was electrocuted at night, it had been that way since she was just a little girl. Esel imagined there were some sort of invisible Frankenstein wires attached to her brain or maybe her internal clock. On occasion, Esel had some trouble discerning what was real and what was only her imagination, though she would not admit this out loud, and Esel sure did have a wild imagination.

Esel’s friends were understanding of her condition, but they had, understandably, boundaries. However, it was especially inconvenient that they refused to answer her calls tonight. Earlier in the evening, a few minutes after 9 pm, after Esel’s mind was thoroughly electrocuted, a small package arrived on her doorstep. It was a tiny wooden box with a red bow on the top. Esel had not ordered a package, and so this was strange. Even stranger was that a tiny buzzing drone the size of an incredibly oversized housefly had been the delivery method, something Esel wasn’t sure she really saw or not.

Esel had been puzzling over the contents of the box for some time now. It concerned her less whether the box and the drone were real but concerned her more that she knew nothing of the contents or the potential sender - if the sender and the box were real of course. Without insight from her friend’s more reliable viewpoints, Esel had held off on retrieving the box. Instead, she had turned the porch light off, the lights in the house off, and she unplugged the kitchen appliances (fridge, oven, microwave). This was so that she could concentrate without light or kitchen appliance sounds.

The way Esel saw it, there were three possibilities: 1. someone had configured a drone to carry a package to her doorstep - a deranged person no doubt, someone who knew of her condition and had sent it to her exactly three minutes after 9 pm, 2. the drone had the wrong house, and 3. the drone and the package weren’t actually real, though this option didn’t offer the help she needed in the present. Esel paced back and forth across her kitchen like a horse that was also pacing back and forth. Finally, her brain, buzzing with thought, made a decision. She would retrieve the box, just to look at it.

She flicked her lights on, took a deep breath, and nearly ran to the door. She flung it open as fast as she could, and it banged loudly against the inside wall. Esel had been meaning to buy a door stop. She had found one in the shape of a pig at the used depot down the street, Discount Willy. Pigs were her favourite animal, but she had to have a second opinion before buying it. She had called her friends about this as well.

“Focus!” Esel said to herself out loud. The box.

Esel flew onto the porch and lifted the small box up with both hands. She looked around, looking for the drone, but she saw nothing. Small flakes of snow began to drift downwards on the sleepy town, but no drone buzzed in the sky. A stray cat unexpectedly dashed across her porch, nearly tripping her. She watched the cat jump off into the bushes with a tiny meow. Esel became confused when a second cat that looked mysteriously identical to the first came skidding across the porch a few seconds later. Again, she watched it jump off into the bushes in the exact same way as the first. Esel had accepted a long time ago that odd things would always happen to her, but tonight was testing her resilience.

When she was safely back inside, she placed the box in the middle of the kitchen table. The box was incredibly heavy for its size. Esel thought that it might have been a bowling ball - though that made little sense to her. She wasn’t a bowler, and she didn’t know anyone that bowled. She didn’t even think that a bowling ball could fit in the tiny box. There also didn’t seem to be a note on the box.

“Oh, just open it,” she said to herself, her hand hovering over it.

She began by pulling the green bow off with haste. She threw it over her shoulder where it fluttered to the floor with grace. Esel was relieved to see that underneath the bow was a logo - but all it said was, “Brethord labs.” Brethord labs. She had never heard of it.

This must not be for me. Maybe I shouldn’t open it.

She could take the box and throw it in her composter, that would certainly end this miserable debate going on in her brain. But she didn’t know the contents of the box, and while the outside was wood, the inside could contain plastic or a chemical or some non-compostable item, and that made her feel like a bad composter.

Esel grabbed her cellphone off the table and typed “Brethord labs” in the google search bar. She tapped on the first link that looked like a legitimate website. The screen loaded and a black screen appeared. The website was empty apart from some white text in the middle of the screen that read: Brethord Labs, specializing in otherworldly oddities. There was nothing else on the website but a number listed at the bottom of the page. Esel wrote down the number and dialed. It was nearly midnight now and she probably wouldn’t get an answer, but Esel didn’t care.

Her phone rang once before a strangely familiar voice answered with a soft and welcoming, “hello?” Esel hadn’t expected someone to answer and for a moment she almost forgot how to speak. In fact, she really hadn’t practiced what she was going to say and so she just mumbled, “Hi?”

The voice on the other end paused for a moment, “did you try to open the package?”

“How…do you know I’m calling about the box?”

“I’m the one that sent it.” 



“And who might you be? Do I know you?” Esel’s mind was swirling, but she ignored the pulsing in her brain and tried to listen.

“That doesn’t matter right now. What’s important is that you describe it to me.”



“What?”



“What does the package look like?”



“I don’t understand,” Esel admitted.

“How heavy is it? What colour is the bow?”

Esel looked down at the box. Impossibly, the box seemed to have changed. It wasn’t quite made of wood anymore but instead was made of some type of cardboard. She picked up the box warily and it was as light as mist in her hands. The bow, still resting on the floor, was blue, though she couldn’t remember what colour it had been before.

“Um, I don’t know,” was all that she managed to say into the phone.

Esel began to solidify in her mind that the possibility of her current reality being the reality that another person would perceive in this situation was unlikely. The room began to spin ever so slightly, tilting like she was looking into a funhouse mirror. She had been to one of those mirror rooms only once, when she was a kid. Her mom, filled with regret over the many nights she spent angry at Esel for her condition, had taken her to a carnival for fun. It was meant to be a joyous occasion, but Esel instead had an anxiety attack in the mirror room. She remembered not liking what she was seeing reflected back at her, and she had scared the other kids by smacking into the plastic mirrors in her effort to get out of her reality. The box reminded her of a funhouse mirror - distorted.

“Pull yourself together,” the monotone voice on the other end of the line said.

Esel thought about hanging up, though she was panicking now in a way that she had not in quite some time. It felt like her mind, electrocuted and free floating, was slipping from her. She thought about the medication her doctor had prescribed a few months ago - it was stuffed in a plastic bag and hidden somewhere behind the clutter in her medicine cabinet.

“I don’t understand what’s going on,” Esel finally admitted to the voice on the phone.

“Well of course not. All you need to know is that if the package is changing, then you are ready.”

Anger flared in Esel, and she hated the feeling.

“Why did you send me this? Tell me who you are!”

“Can you open it?”

“No, I haven’t opened it! Now tell me who you are!” Esel shouted into the phone, though her voice didn’t carry the weight she wanted it to. The impact of her voice was more like a falling feather than a falling cement block.

“I’ll tell you everything if you can open it,” the voice replied calmly.

“Fine!” Esel replied.

Esel looked at the box, and again it had changed. This time it had a lid like a gift box. Esel put her hands on either side of the lid and took a deep breath. She lifted the lid and immediately she was no longer sitting in her quaint kitchen in the town of Finch. Esel had been transported, siphoned through a wormhole into a reality opposite Earth. Her mind no longer resided where it had been stationed for 35 Earth years.

Esel was reclined in a chair, her arms clamped to the sides with sliver rope. The space she was in was cavernous in its emptiness apart from a door.

“You’re finally here!” The familiar voice from the phone call echoed through the room. Esel craned her head to see where the voice was coming from.

Where is here? Have I finally lost all grasp on reality?

“I’ve waited a long time to retrieve you,” the voice said again, “longer than I expected, but not as long as some.”

“What’s happening!” Esel squirmed under her ropes.

She had really done it this time; she had let her mind completely slip away into the abyss. She wondered where her body was back in reality. Esel imagined herself in a hospital bed with her three friends crowded around her lifeless body.

Have I slipped into a coma?

“It’s called an object of moving disparity,” the voice said.

“What?” Esel asked.

There was no answer from the voice. After a moment more of struggling on Esel’s part, the door in the corner of the room opened and a woman walked through. She looked so familiar to Esel, but then again not at all. She was an older woman, her frame was very tall and her dark hair was as luscious and as long as a bedsheet, and her arms were covered in webs of metallic tattoos weaving from her shoulders to her fingertips.

“The package, it’s called an object of moving disparity. I’m happy to see you intact,” the woman said, smiling pleasantly, “don’t worry, you’ll remember more soon, it’s been a long time since you’ve been home.”

Home.

Esel had, until this very moment, remained inordinately calm, but she felt the bubbling of unmatched chaos rise into her throat.

The woman watched with a straight face while Esel thrashed and yelled and thrashed some more. Esel had never felt such strange conflicting emotions spilling through her mouth, and then there was actual liquid spilling out. Esel vomited clear liquid. When Esel had burnt out her lungs, and her body was too tired to move anymore, she slumped back against the silver chair.

The woman frowned, “I must admit that this is a strange reaction, Esel. You see, the object of moving disparity is your lifeline to our world, and it only allows you to open it when you are ready to return."

When Esel didn't respond, the woman continued, "the object signalled to us that you were ready, and it is rarely wrong though perhaps it has extracted you too soon. I’ll have to discuss this with my superiors.”

Esel watched as the woman walked briskly out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Esel was exhausted and her brain fought against stupor. She looked down at her body, strapped into the seat in the middle of this strange and empty room and noticed for the first time that her own arms were banded in metallic, just like the woman’s arms were.

The woman returned a few moments later, hastily walking towards Esel.

“Our apologies for this, Esel. You see, you made a journey to Earth, just as most of us do, to learn from the suffering of that world. We thought you had completed your journey, but it seems you have more to learn,” the woman said sadly, stroking Esel’s head lightly with her hand.

“I better hurry now. It was nice to see you again sweetheart,” she said as she walked away again.

There was a blinding light, and Esel closed her eyes tightly to protect herself. When she opened her eyes again, she was sitting at her own kitchen table, the sun beginning to peak through her window. There was no package on her table.

Esel did not tell her friends about what happened that day, she didn’t mention it to anyone at all. Esel googled Brethord Labs once or twice and found nothing. So, she lived day to day and kept looking forward, living as best she was able. Esel tried different medications to stop her mind from electrocuting at night, but each of them had their ups and downs and none of them were perfect. It took Esel many years to accept that what happened that day was likely fabricated by her mind, and after two decades she forgot about the package and the woman with the metallic arms completely.

One day, when Esel herself was an old woman, grey haired and content, she sat down on her couch in the stone cottage to read her favourite book. It was just past 9 pm when Esel heard faintly the buzzing of a drone outside of her door.