i want a pony [01]
It’s well past the time when Chantal should be home, tucked safely in her four-poster bed, even by her own standards, so she’s not entirely surprised when she falls asleep on the walk home. Right after the clock chimes, she collapses softly in a doorway, her handbag in her lap, and doesn’t move as the world churns around her. Buildings shift,
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"I...er...yes. I'm afraid I wasn't quite prepared for this," she says vaguely, then what he's said about the glass in her leg penetrates her consciousness and she swallows hard. She doesn't even want to look at the wound, let alone pull out the glass.
After a moment, she forces herself to peer at the reddened mirror shard. Splinters. It's just like a splinter. Surely she's had a splinter before? She can't remember.
...come to think of it, she can't remember ever having any injury before. But that doesn't make any sense. No one goes through life without at least a papercut, a skinned knee. And she climbs trees every night. Why hasn't she ever fallen, twisted an ankle, sprained a wrist?
She reaches hesitantly for the fragment of glass, using her handkerchief to grasp it. As she pulls it out, she whimpers softly. There's a little throb of pain, and she drops it as it comes free, shuddering. It falls to dust, and the wound bleeds more freely. She presses the cloth over it and takes a deep breath. "I'm okay."
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He still can't shake the feeling of foreboding, and he looks around again anxiously. "When you're ready, we should find a way out."
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She takes the handkerchief and ties it tightly around the wound on her calf, then tries to stand. It doesn't hurt all that much now. The cut was really only skin-deep. "Yes." She straightens her shoulders. "I think there's another door around that corner up ahead. Shall we...?" She offers him her hand.
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Caspar opens the door. Normally, he'd be a gentleman and let the lady go first, but he wants to make sure it's safe first.
The room beyond... doesn't exist. Instead, it's a voluminous cavern. Tiny pinpricks of light twinkle like stars in the distance.
"That's..." How can a space like that fit inside a haunted house? He swallows hard. Oh, but look, there is a pathway to the other side. A tiny, narrow footpath with no railing, painted black to match the darkness beyond.
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When the door opens, she catches her breath, and her hand tightens around his, just a little. "How can it be...like that? It's too big!"
Something fizzles in the back of her brain. A silver thread, a handful of burning herbs, and voices whispering, asking her name, daring her to look at them. Walking through the dark with no hope. Beneath the diamond and gold cuff on her arm, her skin burns.
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There's the sound of metal twisting and something very large clanging to the ground. An incredibly large gear is rolling their way, and they soon will be run over if they don't go through that door.
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The sound of twisting metal makes her turn, and she gives a wordless cry and points at the gear, springing forward into the darkened room, onto the path. She reaches back and pulls Caspar in after her, surprisingly strong for her delicate build. Once he's inside the room, the door slams, seemingly of its own accord.
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He takes several deep breaths, then smiles wanly. "Well... looks like we don't have much choice now, does it?" There's enough room on the path for both of them, so he keeps his hand in hers while they walk towards the other end. It's actually not that bad, so long as he doesn't look down.
If he did look down, he would notice a glowing orange light from deep below. It flickers, as if made of flame.
He tugs on his collar absently. "Is it just me, or is it getting warmer in here?"
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She smiles weakly up at him. "Yeah, it is a little hot in here..." She fans herself with her purse ineffectually. "But the room can't be that long, right? It has to be an optical illusion. We'll be out of here, soon."
Then she makes the mistake of looking down and makes a little broken sound, staring at the flaming orange light.
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He touches his face gently, finally feeling the cut's sting. Those flying shards of glass weren't illusions.
He was doing a good job of not looking down, at least, until Chantal does. The orange light is growing, and it does appear to be made of flames. Its shape shifts -- here the wings of an owl, there the slavering muzzle of a dog.
"We should hurry," Caspar says, giving Chantal's hand a tug. The cavern has gone from warm to stiflingly hot.
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The rhythm of her breathing shifts abruptly to deep panting as horror and heat take their toll, but she reacts to Caspar's tug on her hand automatically, bursting into a shuffling run, her heels clacking on the path. Somehow, for some ridiculous reason, she's still holding onto her purse.
Up ahead of them there is a light, paler and more wholesome than the orange beneath them, but ragged around the edges. As they get closer, it becomes obvious it's a broken mirror. The shards lay scattered across the path, twitching slightly as they approach but making no truly aggressive moves. Cool air wafts through the opening at them.
Chantal only hangs back for a moment, glancing into Caspar's face, then darts through the jagged opening.
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The open pathway in front of them is a tantalizing goal, despite the ominous shards littering the ground. Sweat pours down his back while he runs. He can hear the roar of the flames (or is that the roar of an animal?) as he stumbles through --
He trips and falls, but instead of glass it's a cool tile floor, and for a moment he doesn't want to get up. He hears footsteps and gets back to his feet.
Standing in front of him and Chantal are are a woman and three men, all dressed in labocats. The three men are smiling; the woman is not.
"Caspar," she says in a gentle, patronizing tone. "We have been looking for you for hours." She tsks softly, examining his face. "And you hurt yourself. I thought you promised you wouldn't do that." She turns towards Chantal. "Thank you for bringing him, Miss."
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Now where did that come from? her mind twitters softly, but before she can come up with an answer, there are people talking to them, and she gets up hurriedly and straightens herself up, pushing her curls out of her face. "I'm sorry, what? We were just..." She points vaguely behind her at the gate they just came through, but when she looks over her shoulder, all she sees is a full-length mirror, intact, reflecting her and the people around her.
"Oh." Her hand drops. "I...how did we...?"
The woman looks concerned. "Oh, dear, you look a bit agitated, yourself. Take it easy, now."
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The woman shakes her head, then gestures to one of the smiling men. He approaches Caspar. "Your parents are very worried about you. They can tell you've been getting worse. I'm afraid we're going to have to all work a little harder to help you."
"My parents?" Is he sick? He feels sick, all sweaty and nervous. Maybe he needs to listen to the doctor. Then the smiling man touches his arm, and he steps away with a sudden burst of fright. No, there is something very wrong here. The smiling man smiles wider and grabs him.
"No!" Caspar struggles in vain against his grip. "Chantal, run! They aren't--" The smiling man clamps a hand over Casper's mouth, cutting off his warning. He struggles for a moment, then slumps against him, his eyes shutting.
The woman sighs, then turns her disapproving gaze onto Chantal. "I was hoping this wouldn't get messy. You really ought to leave, Miss. If you know what's best."
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"Now, wait a moment," she begins, sticking out her chin stubbornly, but then the smiling man's got Caspar and he's gone limp, and that means she's all on her own.
Eyes wide and frightened, she nevertheless makes an attempt to rescue them the only way she knows how. "Look," she gestures with her purse, "Do you know who I am? I'm Chantal von Krumrhein. My parents will...I can get you a lot of money if you're just willing to, er, overlook our presence here, maybe get us a cab?"
She opens her purse and pulls out her wallet, counting what she's got in it. Eighty dollars. It's enough for a decent bribe. She holds it out. "This could just be a down payment?"
The woman frowns and shakes her head. "Your play money's no good here, Miss. I think we'd better take you somewhere to rest."
Another of the smiling men advances, and the money and purse drop to the floor as he grabs Chantal, his grip too strong for her to even think of resisting. The scream of protest dies in her throat.
As she is half picked-up and carried, she looks back over her shoulder, trying to see where they take Caspar, but the bulk of the smiling male nurse blocks him from her view as they turn the corner.
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