Portals
This was her door, her portal into another world. She only had to stare at the candle before the black mirror and it would fill with that golden haze. Stepping into that haze, she'd be transported to the quiet place. Angels whispered of dreams to come in that place. Twittering birds sang songs of forgetfulness. The greens were verdant and the reds lush, everything glimmered and shimmered. The haze brushed her skin like orchid petals, saturated by the creamy scent of vanilla, the quiet placed called to her.
Insubstantial. She always felt insubstantial when the haze enveloped her. In the space between breaths, she knew she'd hover in the void between worlds. Then she'd step through, always reaching her destination, always finding the quiet place. Sometimes, she'd stop and try to remember how long she'd been stepping into the quiet place. Other times, she breathed in the solitude and filled the void inside her. It wasn't often she could fill the void. She would breathe and breathe, try and try, but most times the solitude wasn't enough to fill the void.
Tonight she was so tired, so much had happened, so much wearing her down, when would it end. Nightmares stretched into days and daydreams drifted into nights all the while it was all she could do to just breathe. The quiet place beckoned. Like a siren seducing the leering seamen, the quiet place enthralled her. "How I must lie on that sea green grass," she thought. Images and sounds chased themselves round and round in her head. Giggles, sobs, winged bats and blooming roses, neither rhyme nor reason for the thoughts in her pretty little head.
She felt her secret lover approach long before she saw him. She knew she'd melt into those blue, blue eyes. The way he held her filled the void. He'd stroke her arms and she'd feel her temperature rise. He'd inhale the scent of her deeply and she'd feel her icy core melt. Silky words caressed her nerves, sending shivers up and down her spine. Oh, she could wrap herself in the essence of him. Tickled, his feathers, they tickled.
Shockwaves rolled through her and she could feel herself being pulled out of the quiet place. No, NOOOOOOOOO, her mind reeled. She fought leaving, but that was the paradox of this place. The more she fought to stay, the more she slipped further away. She felt ripped through time and space and thrown harshly into that cold sterility. Screaming, she heard herself screaming.
"Angel. Angel, open your eyes." She struggled and fought to slip away from that voice. How she hated that voice. Raspy, like sandpaper on burnished steel, it grated like screeching tires, piercing her mind. She turned her head and strained to get away. Still the voice penetrated. She knew if she opened her eyes, the woman in white would come closer. She could feel the restraints and hear the quick beeps counting her heartbeats like the clink of dimes.
Another shockwave and she gasped, opening her eyes. Those blue, blue eyes gazed at her, held her. This was not the quiet place. This was the hated place. If she breathed slowly and found the golden haze, she could go back. Would her beloved go with her? She'd make him go. She'd take his hand and guide him back to the quiet place where they could love forever. She just had to give in to the fog, slip into that golden haze. She'd never leave the quiet place again.
"Doctor," hissed the raspy voice, " I don't think the electroshock therapy is working."