A Post-Liminal storylet (SPOILERS)
Six months.Six months was no time, and an eternity.Six months is what was bartered for a few pomegranate seeds, Izzy reasoned. Six months here, and six there.
No time at all, very clean cut and logical.
But she wasn’t so lucky, was she? No, Izzy had danced in and out of the Otherworld, courting danger, and she barely could grasp the passing of days now.Ha. Courting danger.
It made it sound poetic, soft. Like it was an adventure you would find in a book, one that had a happy ending for all. If fucking only.She couldn’t read any more. At least not anything fantasy.
A shame, since most of The Oracle’s library was that. Fiction was too dry, too…real. Sci-fi was okay sometimes. Non-fiction was right out.The world outside The Witches’ House was too human now.
Every story ended with the happily ever afters, but never talked about how the hero had to go home. Had to readjust.
Had to figure out how to explain how they had gone somewhere else, and come back with real disorders, and not get sent to a psych ward. No story talked about the nightmares, the PTSD.
New found anxiety, fears, bouts of depression.No one talked about the hero waking up screaming some nights, from phantom figures.Lara was understanding, but Morgan more so.
Morgan had the experience, where Lara was used to Morgan’s own problems. So they worked it out, figured out routines and triggers, and made it work.It helped.
But it didn’t stop the world from feeling too real. It was too goddamn real, and she couldn’t face it. Izzy had grown too used to faces being sharp as a knife, and bodies made of concepts.
Everyone was too soft, too firmly there. They stared, or didn’t pay enough attention, in turns.
Couldn’t they see how vivid the world around them was colored? The intricacies of photos plastered on billboards?
Why weren’t they choking on the thickness of the air, or savoring the bright taste of ice water, like liquid diamonds as they swallowed?Everything was too…physical.
But the Otherworld was just as unreal. They saw too much, too many things. There’s was too many flavors in everything.
She had a salad of flowers that had so much to taste, Izzy had actually vomited afterwards. Once, her coffee tasted of nothing but loose sand and smelled of thick honey.
No one noticed the way walls would sometimes blossom, or shift, or suddenly weep sap despite being made of stone. The world refused to stay the same, changing the time on its own whim.
Colors inverting so fast it made her ill, the same path looping in on itself.And now she was back in her own world, and roads made no sense.
How could they always lead to the same place?Six months back with human rules and laws of nature. Six months of reality and logic and sanity.
And Izzy had never felt more out of place than straddling that line.