Dear Readers: Let's find out what Cloe wrote down on the napkin last night - and whether it comes true...
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Scene 6: The Future
A.D. 2015
She had hoped to wake up. To snap out of the waking dream that her life had become of late. To finally return to comprehensible reality.
Some part of her, at least, had hoped for that. She wasn’t sure if she could go on living in this dream, without risking combusting any second. It was so disorienting—whimsical scribbles seeming to come true, dinner with an epic prince straight from the pages of her storybook, encounters with the man of marble who was… who was…
Who was married. Cloe stared up at the ceiling, which was uncomfortably close to her face, from her upper bunk in this cramped hostel space. There was just enough room for her to sit upright without bumping her head; she was glad to be petite enough for that. Unlike the marble man’s tall, model-like, Barbie-doll wife… She cursed the bitter thought for springing to her mind. She shouldn’t think like that. And she most certainly shouldn’t have been having fantasies about Barbie’s husband flashing through her sleeping head last night.
Well. So she had. And there was nothing to be done about it, other than to try her hardest to forget. At least until the fantasies recurred on nights to come, no doubt. She wouldn’t be able to help it, she supposed.
At any rate, this was her first morning in Athens. Her first full day in Greece. It should be easier to focus on her travel-writing job now that she knew that Mr. Campion was married, and that the ebon-eyed prince had abandoned her after some sorry excuse for a date.
She grabbed her phone, bleary eyes blinking at the unexpected flurry of new messages. She first opened the text from her dad: “Hi sweetie. Just activated international plan. Sorry forgot to do it sooner. You should be able to call and text now. Have a great time in Greece.”
Cloe smiled and replied with a thank-you text. She hadn’t even realized that the global phone plan hadn’t been in place yesterday. She had asked her father to please set it up as promptly as he could, in time for her travels, but John Turner was often slightly delayed with such things. He always got around to them, though, soon enough.
She then saw the texts from her mom, sent over the span of several hours, checking in and asking whether she’d arrived safely, punctuated with some frantic strings of question marks. Cloe felt awful for having forgotten to touch base with Silvia yesterday as promised—she was usually so good about that, but last night must have been so overwhelming that the ever-dutiful daughter inside her had gotten distracted. Even though her phone hadn’t been functional and it wouldn’t have transmitted anyway, she ought to have tried.
She felt truly terrible about it, and instantly responded with effusive apologies and reassurances of her safety. She also suggested that they video-chat on Skype in half an hour, as soon as Cloe was washed up and ready to sit at her computer in the courtyard. It would be nice to see her mother’s smiling face—both because she missed her already, and because Silvia’s calm, steady smile was always good at keeping Cloe mentally stable. She sort of needed that right now.
She saw a text from Tom, wishing her a happy first day in Greece.
And then she saw the text from an unrecognized number. Sent at some point late last night, though her phone of course hadn’t been enabled to receive it till more recently. She blinked a few times before reading it.
“Cloe– I had to rush out to respond to an urgent call, and I am so sorry. I hope you got home safely? I would love to hear from you, to know that you did, and also for a chance to explain why I had to leave. Of course, I understand if you would rather not reply. But please do know that I had a wonderful time tonight. Thank you. –Eldor.”
Cloe blinked yet again. So much for hoping to snap out of the waking dream… Here she was reading a text from her fictional prince.
She would reply, of course. Basic decency required as much, right? It seemed so, but she was not exactly thinking straight right now, and hadn’t the faintest clue what she should say to him anyway. Besides, she had a Skype call with her mother scheduled for—she checked the time—twenty-six minutes from now. She would attend to Eldor later.
To ‘Eldor’; for all she knew, Cloe reminded herself, Miss Primor could’ve sent the text to prolong this inexplicable fantastical charade.
She hopped in the shower. Fiddled with the leaky faucet for a while, before resigning to a temperature just above freezing—ice-cold seemed preferable to scalding hot, after all. Tried to ignore the pair of European teenagers who giggled their way into the adjacent shower stall and started to engage in very slippery frisky business.
Hostels would take some getting used to, but she would survive. At least uncomfortable realities like frigid water and noisy, naughty shower neighbors made it quite clear that life wasn’t a dream after all.
She hastened through the rest of her morning routine, slipping into another of the cheap sundresses that she had packed, and then finally sat down with her laptop at a tiny table in the courtyard cafe.
It was a small space, with a tranquil air about it—despite the pop ballads and dance beats blasting from an outdoor television set that seemed to be permanently tuned in to the Greek equivalent of MTV, and despite the periodic squawks of the restless resident parrot, to which Cloe was already growing accustomed. Something about the Mediterranean sun probably just cast an aura of contentment and peace everywhere, regardless of surrounding racket. Its rays peeked through the trellis overhead and warmed her from the outside in.
She ordered a light breakfast of buttered toast and coffee from the cheerful staff on hand, unable to refuse the budget-friendly price.
Checked the time. Two minutes till her call with Mom. Signed into Skype. Sat back for a moment and basked in the sun, the soft breeze…
The breeze picked up a bit, just then. Suddenly, somewhat startlingly. She blinked as it blew something onto the table before her.
Something small. Something familiar. Something crystal clear, cradling a thing of precious pink.
The pressed blossom to which she had bidden goodbye. Cast into the vast sky, from a high rooftop balustrade, sure to never be seen again…
Although her scribbled words last night had decreed otherwise. Cloe reached into her bag, retrieved the napkin, read the line recently scrawled in scratchy pencil: Tomorrow, I will see the campion again.
Tomorrow had arrived. And with it, here and now, the campion.
A corner of Cloe’s mind tried to deny what was happening, still. Tried to chalk it up to pure chance, or to pin it on Miss Primor once more. As if it made sense for the woman to control the wind itself.
Yet the rest of Cloe’s mind, and the entirety of her soul, could not help but believe that this meant something. Something big. She was nowhere near ready to believe it, but somehow she simply did.
Her trance was broken as the Skype window on her monitor lit up with a softly ringing chime. She swallowed down the big thoughts, trying to brush them away as she answered the call from her mom.
There was much chatter and laughter, as ever between them. Cloe spoke of running into Mr. Campion, and the date with Eldor—her mother was the biggest cheerleader of her love life, after all. She hadn’t mentioned what she’d written on the napkin, though. Not yet. Even without that minor detail, Silvia was gushing all about how unbelievable it was that Cloe had met a guy named Eldor in real life.
“So do you like him more than Mr. Campion?” she asked her daughter.
Cloe paused. Reflected on the answer in her heart, for a second, before saying anything. No, she didn’t; of course she didn’t. What was the difference? With Eldor, her blood ran like unwatered wine. Smoothly and sweetly, as blood ought to run. Whereas with Ryder…
At the very thought of Ryder, the blood in her veins turned to fire and to ice. Her world went up in flames and stopped turning. All at once, she was ablaze and frozen. In the most exquisite way.
“Awww,” Silvia interrupted, with a knowing grin as she read Cloe’s face through the screen. “You looove the marble statue man…”
Teasing ensued. Cloe shifted the topic to Prof and Miss Primor, and Silvia asked if the fiancée still gave off that ‘super spooky vibe’ on which she'd commented after first meeting the woman on Commencement Day. Talking about Charliese was as good of a segue as any, Cloe thought, to jump into the big stuff. She had always shared practically everything with her mother. She would have to tell her this great, big thing sooner or later.
She drew in the deepest breath. Once she said it, there would be no denying it, she knew. No more denying what she could do. So many things. Decreeing her own happy fairytale, with any man she wished… Bringing an end to world hunger… Saving Tom’s life…! So much that she could do, if she decided to. Selfish and selfless. Big and small. Somehow it was just all within her power. She just knew. May as well say it now.
“Oh, and Mom—I had something else to tell you,” she declared. No more denying the incredible truth. “I think I can write the future.”
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Any thoughts? So, yes, as Cloe herself has already concluded, her modern-day mortal power = the ability to write the future. There are some limits, though, of course... we shall learn of those later ;)
We'll find out more about this power - and why/how Cloe has it - before the end of Episode 5 :)
Next scene, we'll catch up with Lacey and maybe get a better sense of her powers as well... And if you liked this one, please don't forget to vote! :)