Somehow we ended up driving into the underworld. Not knowing where we were, we made a u turn and continued on our way home. A wicked witch followed us out though. Something in me knew it too but I kept shrugging off as shadows and road noise. At home that night I felt her presence and went into the back yard pondering where the safest place would be. In fright at the dark clouds swarming fast on all horizons, I turned and ran back into the house and up the stairs. She flew around me in a swirling gust. I thought I had escaped her as I burst out onto the balcony and climbed onto the roof. Feeling myself floating I grabbed the flag pole rope and held on in one last attempt to stay grounded. “It’s no use,” she shrieked, “I’ve already given you the poison.” Her words echoed as Kevin’s sword flew through her apparition, its reflective light joining into my swirling, darkening vision.
I eventually awoke, realizing that my sleeping beauty fantasies were never something that I wanted to be true. Blinking my eyes, I expected the vague form of Kevin hovering over me to bring me relief, but it didn’t. “Kevin! Why do you look like that?” I exclaimed. His Claymation face looked sad. I reached up to his face asking him if it is really him, when I noticed my own hands had the very same cartoonish texture. Frightened, thinking this must be a dream, the memory of the witch’s attack came back. “But how did you get here?” I asked him as he showed me the mirror, “I thought she was only attacking me.
“She was.” He explained, “But I couldn’t fight her off and wouldn’t let her take you alone. So I let her take me too. I couldn’t be without you. “What does she want with us?” I asked. He didn’t know. For weeks she has just been flying around like a mad spirit muttering spells as she experiments with the new power having us around gives her. “She’s been gone for a few days, maybe that’s why you’ve woken up.” My memory came and went over the next few days so it was easy to live in the cottage as if we always did.
But at random times a memory would come to mind. “Do you still work at a bank?” I asked Kevin, half knowing his answer but feeling compelled like a child to ask anyway. “Not since we’ve been here, no. We’re prisoners here. I have no idea how to get out.”
One day Kevin began to get spacey and forgetful of what words he had been trying to get out. He fell into a conscious muttering sleep as the witch flew in. “Good good, awake awake. Get up!” she ordered. I stood, shaky on my claylike legs under her spell. A salt shaker appeared in my hand and I started sprinkling Kevin with salt as the witch flew around in apparitional ciaos.
The tornedo of wind put me into a black out and I awoke on horseback. My hands tied in front of me with Kevin walking at my side, looking more and more Disney than Claymation. We were slowly following the witch’s caravan through a small town. Children were pointing in awe as the adults hustled them away from the road. A band of teens threw rocks at us, threatening to break Kevin’s shoes, which were made of half an egg shell each. Angrily he lunged at them. Had his shackles not held him back, they probably would have been too scared to throw one last rock. Egg shell shards spew in all directions, disheartened he turned to me. “You have to try to remember, remember home. It is the only way we can get out of here.” “Home…” I whispered as I woke up, Kevin snoring at my side. I breathed a sigh of relief that it was all just some sort of dream.