𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓡𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓟𝓸𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼: ǟ ʀɛǟʟɨȶʏ ֆɦɨʄȶɨռɢ ȶǟʟɛ ✤ ֆɛʋɛʀʊʂ ҳ օƈ

lєgílímєnѕ íntσ thє pαrαllєl plαnєѕ

For a Saturday, the day ran slow. The only rush hit at noon, as if everyone took the hot summer's day to snooze beneath a fan or rebel pandemic laws in the local rivers. Social distancing didn't exist down there.

Niamh stared at her navy blue journal on the register's counter; the same page opened for nearly ten minutes. In haste a few weeks ago, she scribbled the title 𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝐹𝑙𝑎𝑤𝑠 on that page. Every few pages contained disorientated notes, sometimes spontaneous ramblings, others--short and precise. Some notes, such as 𝑁𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑎𝑙 𝑃ℎ𝑦𝑠𝑖𝑐𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐺𝑒𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐴𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑙 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑚 or 𝐿𝑖𝑚𝑖𝑡𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑃𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐷𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚𝑤𝑎𝑙𝑘𝑒𝑟, 𝐹𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑆𝑜𝑢𝑙, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐴𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑙𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒, reappeared every ten pages, respectively. Niamh realized long ago the root of her writer's block stemmed from the plot. Her society---it was grand, complex and expansive---but her characters . . . they were lifeless vessels. Practically like inferi after sedimented drafting.

Thus, as part of a "break," she focused on character flaws---another writer's sin she makes. Thus far, only Mary-Sue-like traits defined her protagonist: eccentric, struggling to find her true purpose, overreads, orphaned, head in the clouds . . .

"Hi, how are you?"

Finally. A customer.

Usually, Niamh relished the quiet moments alone, but her calves burned from standing still for ages.

"I'm well, thanks, how are you?" The customer asked.

"Good. Paper or plastic?" Wait! Perhaps I can manipulate those flaws . . . define them in deeper subcontext, she thought instantly.

"One paper bag for the cereals."

Let's begin with . . . eccentric. I wrote her as publicly and personally associating with Christianity and Celtic doctrine. Two historically warring religions, however in her "perfect" society they have made coexistence. But oscillating between two religions and remaining open to practicing all forms of ritual greatly disturbs the chieftain, triggering local gossip and mass subconscious isolation from--

"Cold items and produce can go in plastic."

"Of course," Niamh manages, fluffing a plastic bag.

What if she never had her head in the clouds to begin with? She is a dreamwalker, after all, someone who walks both the physical and astral realm. My protagonist shares of the adventures of herself with her best friend from the astral realm (let's call her friend an "astralnative"). However, the lack of proof of the astral realm and its people trigger widespread belief that the protagonist copes with living in a completely isolated home since early childhood either by (1) creating imaginary friends, or (2) communing with demons. Many believe it is both, for at times the protagonist enters a coma for weeks at a time, only to awaken out of breath and spit out nonsense about  ". . . a young man with a 10-meter long beard trapped beneath an avalanche, but at least, for the time being, has firewood, herbs, and trickling water."

. . . 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑣𝑒 𝑖𝑡 𝑎 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑖𝑔𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑑𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑐 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑎𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑠 𝑤𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛ℎ𝑜𝑜𝑑, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑓𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑠 ℎ𝑦𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑎 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡𝑤𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑠.

"Any inspiration today, Niamh?"

Niamh dropped the pen and nudged the journal aside.

It was still left open.