Fantastical Misconceptions

The weather matched my mood, gray and dreary. I sat with my head pressed against the bus window, watching the scenery pass by, my mind in a daze. The rain slid down the glass and pelted the roof, and I wondered if tears would follow. I never really knew my birth mother. I was a ward of the state from early on, hopping from foster home to foster home before I was adopted. It had been ten years since last I'd heard from her— and that only a belated birthday card in the mail. Now suddenly, even though she was deceased, she was in my life again. So, at the urging of her lawyer, I here was. On my way, to pick through the rubble of her life.

I admit I was in shock over the twenty thousand dollars she left me. Sadly, my frugal upbringing prevented me from purchasing a more luxurious means of travel than a cheap a** bus ticket, despite my windfall. I didn't even know she was capable of amassing a small fortune. I thought any money she could get her hands on would have been shot up or snorted, gone in a flash. Sitting there, it never occurred to me that she might have cleaned up or turned her life around. There were just too many early childhood glimpses of red eyes, crazy hair, and chaotic behavior, and too many overheard stories from my youth of her antics and arrests.

If you could combine a new-age crystal-loving hippie with a chronic junkie... I know not too big of a stretch. But imagine if you could— then add, a dash of a doomsday crier, a heaping spoonful of environmental extremist, and a sprinkle of anti-government anarchy. Do that, and you'd get the gist of the level of crazy that people claimed my mom to be. Uhg! I didn't want to do this, I thought.

With a sigh, I threw myself back in my seat, face pointing up, whole body slouched. I knew I must appear the epitome of a depressed and angsty goth to anyone watching, but I didn't care. I sat this way for a moment more before fishing out my phone. We have to be close. I looked at the time. God, I'd been on this bus for nearly 18 hours. Uhg!

Sure enough, we were close. I sat up straighter, my attention more focused on the scenery than before. I watched as the lighting on the freeway improved, the traffic increased, the buildings grew together, and the countryside became the city. Thank god! I'm tired of looking at sagebrush.

I hated this place. It was a bustling city, I'd give it that. It seemed to grow busier every year as more and more people flocked to it to escape an even bigger city. There's an irony for you. I watched as the bus drove past the airport and pulled into the bus terminal. I was anxious to depart, to get off the bus, and stretch my legs. Still, I had to sit patiently and wait as the chubby middle-aged man sitting next to me seemed content to allow every other passenger to disembark before him.

Finally, Bubble bass, as I called him in my head, a throwback to my Spongebob loving days, levered himself out of his seat and made his way off the bus. Being left alone to wrestle my bag from the overhead was an eery feeling. I couldn't get off the bus fast enough. Strangely, the feeling didn't fade as I stepped off and into an empty terminal lot. What the hell! Where did everyone go? Even Bubble bass and the driver were nowhere to be seen.

I tried to shrug it off as nothing, maybe just nerves. I situated my bag over my shoulder and took off for the ticket office. I felt relieved to find the inside of the building populated— even if it was only the staff and few scattered travelers.

I walked to the courtesy desk and asked if they would please call me a taxi. After a head-smackingly terrible joke of 'Ok, you're a taxi' by the attendant and a quick phone call, I was confident that my ride was on the way. So, I headed towards the vending machines and a much-needed cup of coffee!

It didn't take long for the taxi to arrive, and I waited outside to meet it, nursing my coffee. I pulled a crumpled piece of paper from my pocket and read the driver the address. And just like that, we were off. I leaned back in my seat, wanting to close my eyes for just a moment when I was startled awake by a voice saying, "Ma'am, we have arrived." Still unconscionably tired, I double-checked the address and paid the driver.

My mother's house was not at all what I had pictured. Not a big surprise, since the last time I was here, I was like two. It looked very out of place, nestled between two newer shopping complexes, and seemed more like a home you'd find in San Fransico or New York. It was yellow with white trim, tall, thin, and practically touching the neighboring buildings. It also had no front yard.

I walked up the front steps and fumbled with the keys given to me by the lawyer. I managed to crack open the door, although it took the application of my shoulder to open it enough for me to enter. I squeezed inside and tripped on a pile of mail behind the door. I scrambled about for a moment, trying to locate a light switch. I discovered one quickly, but I was disgusted to find the house had no power. No, of course not. That would make things too easy. She probably forgot to pay the bill. Typical. Just typical.

Grabbing my phone, I turned on flashlight mode and made my way out of the foyer and into the living room. It was sparsely decorated and held a chinse-like armchair, a couch, a few cupboards, and a bookshelf. I made my way towards the sofa and shrugged off my belongings. I was too exhausted, too look around any further. Grabbing the blanket conveniently draped over the chair, I plumped a decorative pillow and curled up on the couch. In what seemed like the blink of an eye, I was fast asleep. So much for that late-night cup of coffee.

I awoke the next morning to a face full of sunlight. It came streaming in from the front windows. I sat up, rubbed the sleep from my eyes, and went in search of the kitchen. I hoped like hell I'd find a clean coffee pot and a can of coffee grounds. To my luck, I found what I was looking for. Unfortunately, the pot was filthy. So, after a furious bout of scrubbing and a quick descaling, the smell of fresh coffee soon filled the kitchen. Thank god for gas ranges!

With coffee in hand, I slowly came to life. I poked around quickly, barely looking in each room, my true purpose to locate the bathroom. It didn't take long as there was only one in the entire house. God! How archaic is this house? Bad enough that the house and each of its rooms looked like it came straight out of the '60s, now it reveals that it has only one bathroom. Yikes! Hard sell.

After a quick glacial shower, I began to feel human again. I took a look around, in earnest this time, silently assessing. The place was barely furnished, and there was not much to find. Apparently, my mom wasn't one for decorations, material things, or many clothes. To give you an idea of just how bare the place was, and back in the kitchen now, I found one frying pan, one pot, one plate, one cup, one set of silverware, and a can of coffee. How on earth does one come to possess only one set of cutlery? How does that even happen?

I went out to find breakfast and found a mom-and-pop dinner within walking distance. There I enjoyed a quaint and simple breakfast. I stopped at the quick grocer's on the way back and picked up a few groceries and a can-opener to tide me over. I returned to the house and unloaded the few items into the counter. Why on earth did her lawyer want me to come here? There's nothing here to find!

I made myself a cup of tea and mentally prepared myself to box up the few possessions around the home and donate them to Goodwill. This shouldn't take me long. If I'm lucky, I can be out of here by tomorrow or the next day. Somehow I managed to knock the cup off the counter, and it shattered on the floor. Scrambling to find something to clean it up with, I noticed the tea was moving. Flowing, really, under the refrigerator instead of pooling on the floor. That's odd. The floor isn't even.

To finish cleaning the mess, I had to move the fridge. That's when I found a hidden door leading to a basement. Great! Just what I needed! To stumble upon a drug lab. I opened the door hesitantly and went down the stairs, phone in hand, light on. I found a lab, alright, just not what I had envisioned. It held all sorts of jars, bottles, beakers, and many strange gizmos I didn't recognize. In the middle of a work table, there sat a small black notebook. Curiously, I picked it up and began reading.

The things I read were beyond belief. It was a journal of sorts, written in my mother's own hand and describing her life— but not as I had ever heard it. She must have been more delusional than I thought. According to the book, my mother was a sorceress who had traveled here from another dimension. Yeah, right!

It went on to say that she had arrived in this world by accident, pregnant and alone and that the portal that brought her here was somewhere in the house. Furthermore, she struggled to get by in this world. Her sole purpose all these years, to find a way to reopen the portal so 'we' could return home.

The book also contained other things, like unreadable charts and diagrams, flower pressings, and more. It rambled on for pages, right to the very last— on which was written, "I have done it! The portal is open. It has taken all my strength. I fear I will not live to step through. I must find Stella. She must step through the door."

There was an old-fashioned iron key stuck to the page. Other than that, there seemed to be nothing more. I pulled the key off the page to examine it. What a load of s***! I slammed the book closed, tossed it back onto the table, and was ready to storm upstairs when a folded note flipped out from its pages. I bent over, picked it up, unfolded it, and read... "Stella, place the key in the wall and walk through the door. The wall right behind you."

I turned, curiosity getting the better of me. Sure enough, in the middle of the brick wall, there was a random keyhole. This can't be real! Yet, I found myself unwittingly moving forward, my hands shakily placing the key into the wall. It gave a satisfying click before the wall sprung forward, opening outward like a door. I stumbled through, into an open meadow— and a world I could have never imagined. My mother wasn't crazy! She had been a desperate woman, trapped in a world not her own, trying to get home. So many things from my childhood began to make sense. No, wait! Maybe I'd gone crazy? But no. What more proof could you need than finding yourself face to face with a dragon.