Island of Past Dreams

Chapter 1

Gwen climbed out of her bed, still drowsy but unsettled by recent dreams when the light caught her eye. Everything outside was, at first glance, peaceful; the neat houses across the street were silent, the shadows of the forest lingered at the edges of the dead end, and the moon was half hidden in some cloud. But even in this pleasant darkness, something had stirred. When Gwen peered closer, she saw that it was small candle light from one of the houses, where the shutters had not been completely closed. The house was the last one of the row, at the very edge of the dead end. Gwen eyed it with slight curiosity but without intrigue. Her mind was not completely awake, and was focusing more on her headache. Then the light vanished, as if blown away. Shrugging, she unlocked her door, stumbled into the kitchen, making several planks beneath her feet creak, got a glass of water and went back to bed. After drinking a few sips, she convinced herself that it was nothing at all and tried to fall asleep.

Gwen was used to change (or so she told herself). She needed it despite the fact that the result was always the same. It offered a seemingly fresh beginning, full of hope and promise. But the joy would wear off, and reality would finally settle in. Gwen then found herself at the end of a cycle she was fairly familiar with: the emotional rattrap. When she was younger, the cycles were not so dramatic, but as she grew, they worsened. She had lived in the US, Singapore, France, China, Malaysia, and now she was back to where she was born, in a small corner of the US; Edison, New Jersey. The only side-effects of her moving houses or places were the dreams. They disturbed her because she never remembered what they were about, but her emotions during them would linger in the air during her waking moments. Gwen could detect sadness, loneliness and a hint of longing. But now, she was too busy unpacking to dwell on such things.

There were plenty of boxes to be dealt with, a little brother to soothe and neighbors to meet. For the person who lived in the house where she first saw the light, she never saw a hair. The other neighbors told her parents it was abandoned years ago by a crazy old hag who dedicated herself in studying shoes and dolls. She was seen one night running around in her nightgown down the streets before disappearing in the forest. It took the police a year to find the body, lost in the middle of the woods, half decomposed and eaten by wild animals. She was still clutching a porcelain doll. This trivial detail unsettled both of her parents immediately.

When she mentioned the gossip, Gwen knew that she was risking a lecture on safety. Her father immediately gasped:

"Abandoned? Goodness knows what could be lurking in that house! Promise me you won't go there OK?" But that was all that was said. He was, by nature, unusually cautious, but as the years went by, he slackened a little. Therefore the light his daughter mentioned did not dawn on him as something strange: maybe a fool looking for a good scare, maybe a trick from the light, maybe both. All Gwen knew was that the house in question was as small as a cabin, half devoured by moss, weeds and other plants, stuck somehow awkwardly between the human world and that of the forest.

Apart from the evening walks, Gwen stayed most of her time in her room or in Johnny's, her younger brother. School was going to start soon and she would be stuck with actual non-international kids. She fancied her arrival with a sort of dreaded anticipation. Being a quarter French, a quarter English, living most of her life outside of the country, knowing more than one language, she was sure that they would see her as the exotic animal that had gone the wrong direction. Maybe she could find a clique that accepted her quietness and self-reservation. Being a globe-trotteur certainly did not make her more open to the aspect of friendship. Forcing herself to talk with neighbors was one thing, becoming friends with them was something different altogether. Her only real companion that understood her a little bit better than the rest throughout the years was her brother despite the fact that he was a spoilt brat.