If I Had Wings to Fly

Chapter 16: Canary

I lay in bed, mindlessly toying with the stubborn braids Mary had woven around my crown. My gaze lingers on the textured ceiling. 'What did she say again?'

"It's best to have an open mind."

She said it right after turning into that little brown mouse.

'I don't think I handled it well.'

At the time, I could not summon the words to talk. If there is a fight, flight, or freeze response, I was the latter.

Somehow, she managed to get me dressed, though I can confidently say I wasn't much help. I must have looked something close to Catatonic. She didn't push, or pry. She worked in silence, her trained fingers beautifying my appearance. I let her do what she wanted, caring less about looks and more about my shattered sense of reality.

"Try to have an open mind." Her words repeat as I stare at nothing in particular.

For no reason at all, except boredom, I spin the false-globe sitting on my nightstand. The sphere rotates fast-then slows. I watch the word 'Ayvon' scroll by and disappear, scroll by, disappear, scroll by, and disappear.

Why does it feel like I'm diving in and out of the deep end? It's all I can do to not to feel like a lunatic.

It's like yesterday I fell asleep and awoke in some alternate reality.

Feeling tired of staring at the same thing, I get out of bed and walk to the vanity. Staring at my reflection, I take in the short-sleeved, pastel dress. White and purple flowers loop along the bodice. The empire waste is tied with a satin bow, and my skirt is purple and flowy. I've never worn anything so pretty.

'Maybe this is a fantasy?' I think, but discount it immediately. I can't forget about the beach. I almost died. My eyes flash to the burned, melted backpack, slumped in the corner. It looks entirely out of place. Someone must have given it back at some point. I physically turn from it's sight.

'What else?' I think, searching the room for another explanation.

I'm not on drugs. It's been over two days. It's scientifically impossible to be high for that long.

'What else?'

I'm not dreaming. This is too consistent to be a dream. I've felt pain. I've felt hunger. I went to the bathroom. It's too linear.

'WHAT ELSE?'

If I keep denying my own eyes I will entirely lose my mind. I've seen it three times now! Girls turned into deer. Loren turned into an angry bear. Even Mary!

'Try to have an open mind.'

'Try to have an open mind.'

'Try to have an open mind.'

The phrase is stuck in my mind; Each time I try to deny it and throw it out it finds it's way back into my ear repeating on a loop. Finally I have to ask myself,

'Is it so bad to accept it's all real?'

If this is real, then I wouldn't be crazy, and if I'm not crazy, than I could trust myself again. It occurs to me how badly I want that.

'I've only got myself, and if I can't trust me, then I have nothing. I would rather go along believing in shape shifters then to lose trust in my sanity.'

The idea sparks a little life inside me.

'What if this is real? There could be a solid, reasonable, scientific explanation for all of this. What if it's just the unknown? A good scientist isn't afraid of the unknown, they are challenged by it.'