TWO-WAY MIRROR

Chapter XXI

Richard couldn't see more than a foot in front of himself. A fog thicker that any he could ever remember pressed down oppressively, he swallowed hard trying to quell the sudden wave of claustrophobia that tightened his chest. His whole world was white and swirling. Creating a sense of smallness, which contained no horizon. He waved his arms trying to clear the air but only succeeded in making things worse. The fog was closing in now only inches from his face. He was lost and panic gripped him firmly. Someone was screaming, crying, cursing and ranting. He realized suddenly the voice was his, and tears were streaming from his eyes, running in thick rivers down his face and soaking his shirt.

"God, help me!" The terror in his voice frightened him even more,

A small hand appeared out of the fog. Richard blinked in disbelief and grabbed the hand like a drowning man. The hand was tiny, a childs' hand which all but disappeared in his grasp. Miraculously he was pulled upwards, his feet leaving the ground as the hand drew him through the soupy white, in which he was now completely enveloped. He could no longer breathe the thick cottony substance and his lungs ached.

Minutes seemed to pass as he slowly rose and his vision began to turn red, when suddenly the fog parted and he was out. He was floating above above what now looked like an endless bed of clouds, which stretched below him in all directions to infinity. The sky above was black and filled with stars and blue planets. He was holding the hand of a little boy, no more than ten or eleven. His short blond hair was sticking out in all directions in need of a combing. His shirt was ill-fitting, torn and filthy. His jeans were the same with ripped knees, grass stains and muddy cuffs.

Richard wiped his face with his shirtsleeve. "Thanks," he said, embarrassed.

The little boy gave him a huge gap-toothed smile but said nothing.

"What's your name?"

Again the boy said nothing, but Richard was sure he could understand.

"What am I doing here?" He asked.

The boy gently extracted his hand from Richards grip and pointed down at the fog still smiling.

Richard looked down into the roiling white beneath them but saw nothing.

"What is it?" He asked looking back up, but the boy was gone. Panicked he turned frantically looking in all directions but the child was nowhere to be seen.

"Wait! No! Where are you? Please!" he screamed.

He heard a muffled sound, someone was screaming from beneath him! The boy had slipped down into the ocean of fog!

"No!" he screamed and thrust his hand down deep into the thick layer of white. For an agonizing moment there was nothing then suddenly a hand grasped his in an iron grip. So strong? He pulled with all his strength, dragging upwards against the fog. Straining hard as it seemed to pull back fighting to keep its' prize. Slowly he was winning and finally the boys hand broke the surface. He heaved and now he could see the childs' forearm, but without warning the fog pulled back. The arm slipped back into the mist and he was being dragged along with it. He screamed in horror fighting to free himself.

"Richard!"

He couldn't breathe, the fog filled his mouth like cotton. His ears so full of it he could barely hear.

"Richard!"

The voice was somehow louder now, clearer but still the fog surrounded him, consuming him like a living thing.

"Richard, wake up!"

A hand slapped his face and his eyes snapped open. He was lying on a small grey sofa in a dimly lit room.

"Emmeline?"

She was hovering above him looking worried and biting her lip. He was holding her hand so tightly his knuckles ached. Sheepishly he released her and she smiled nervously flexing her fingers.

"Thank God, Richard, I've been trying to wake you for the last ten minutes." She said softly.

"Where are we?" He tried to sit up, but as he did a herd of elephants seemed to stampede through his brain so he lay back down.

Emmeline opened her mouth, but it was John who answered from across the room.

"Professor Tates house." His voice was flat and unfriendly.