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Erin & Her Universe

By: Charlotte Webster

        It’s not supposed to be like this.

       Erin was alone, in a dark room. The dark was nice. She wasn’t sure about the alone part just yet. It always depended on how she was feeling, and right now she couldn’t quite tell.

       Come on, come on. You know how to do this. ​It was the same every time, or almost the same. Five senses- not all at once. That would be far too much. But one at a time, that usually worked. Smell first. Never sight. Sight was always last. Erin took a deep breath in, concentrating. There was the scent of old books; really it was paper and dust and ink, but it all added up to old books. Fresh soil, probably from all the houseplants Dana liked to keep. And just a hint of nutmeg. Erin bit her lip. Cinnamon would have been better, but she could work with that.

       Next was taste. Not regular taste, but words. Erin could always taste words. The air in the house tasted like ancient, though she suspected that was a bit of an overstatement. Houses could get cocky, it was just in their nature. The wind blowing in through the crack in the window tasted like wild, which was typical for the wind. She could taste more things, too. Words like bitter, confused. Lost. She didn’t know where they came from. She probably could have guessed. She didn’t want to.

       As for hearing, it was slightly more complicated. There was the air in the vents, the creaking floorboards, the house settling around her. If she reached just a little further, there were the beeping cars on the street below, the neighbors, the subway, the buzzing streetlights...There was more. Voices, thoughts. But that was enough for now.

      Touch next. Erin was shaking- her hands, just slightly, her legs bouncing up and down against the floor. That was normal. She was cold, and shivering, which meant her shoulders were shaking as well. The wall on her back was cool, the floor underneath her was rough. Okay, okay. She was almost there.

       Slowly, slowly, Erin opened her eyes. She was in the music room. The familiar surroundings fell into place: the piano, the floral rug, the bookshelves. All just as it had been approximately three minutes ago when she had zoomed out, but it never hurt to check.

       Am I okay? It was a complicated question. This time, Erin was just about to answer with a firm yes, but then another gust of wind blew into the room and reverberated the hammers in the piano ever so slightly, but Erin could hear them. Since she noticed them, they got louder and louder and they were resonating throughout the piano and the room and the house and the world and the only thing were those shaking piano keys and they were shaking and Erin wanted to shake and now her hands were shaking more than just slightly and more like violently and all of her was shaking and she was almost there again-

       Stop. Stop. Stop shaking.

       The wind went away, the piano stilled, she stopped shaking. Slowly, she relaxed all of her muscles until it was just her alone in the music room. Good.

      You’re okay, said another voice that wasn’t hers. It was familiar, though. Familiar as cinnamon. She missed cinnamon. She missed the voice. Rather, the person the voice belonged to. Far more than cinnamon, really.

       There was a knock on the music room door that would have been problematic a minute ago but now was fine. “Come in,” Erin said softly, though she didn’t know why she had to. This was Dana’s house, and Dana should be able to open her doors without asking. She chalked it up to Dana’s general politeness.

       The door creaked open. Dana wasn’t tall, but she was still taller than Erin. She had a blue apron around her neck and her hair pulled up into a bun. Erin liked Dana’s hair. It looked like an ocean if ocean waves were red. The Red Sea, tumultuous waves flowing down past her shoulders. Not today, of course, since it was in a bun.

       “You all right in here?” Dana asked, smiling. Erin nodded, since she had in fact concluded that she was all right.

       “Okay then. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.” She returned to the hall, leaving the door open. If she had wondered about the dark room, she didn’t ask.

       Erin often wondered how much Dana understood. Probably not much of it, since she had never  explained. Every time she tried to talk about it the words got all jumbled up. She had tried to plan out an explanation in her head, a comprehensive one that would answer any and all questions the woman probably had. Erin tried to tell it like a story. That was always easier, simpler. But her story wasn’t simple enough to be told that way. She could never figure out how to start it. Once upon a time there was a girl with the universe poured into her head. Once upon a time there was a girl who knew everything, but it was all useless because her father wasn’t here anymore. Once upon a time there was a girl who tried to tell the truth but she couldn’t because the truth didn’t make sense.

       “Pansies,” she said quietly, only to herself. The flowers stitched onto the rug were pansies. Viola tricolor var hortensis, actually. Her surroundings often helped to ground her from her thoughts. The smell of alfredo sauce wandered down the hall from the kitchen, and Erin made the decision to stand up. She was hungry, and she liked alfredo sauce. She didn’t want to keep Dana waiting. Erin crossed the room and stepped out into the apartment hallway, standing still for a moment to let her eyes adjust to the brightness. Instead of going straight to the kitchen, she made a detour in the white-tiled bathroom, where she quickly moved to stand on the fuzzy rug. The tiles were just too white and cold, and they sent little freezing shocks up through her feet. It was probably because they were cold, but she suspected the whiteness was a part of it.

       Erin turned on the water in the faucet and washed her hands, staring at the mirror. Someone was staring back at her, and she wasn’t sure who it was. At first it looked like her. The girl in the mirror had Erin’s height, her face, her long black hair. She didn’t really care for her hair. She didn’t like how long it was. But every time she went to fetch a pair of scissors she remembered her mother’s long dark hair, and then she would start shaking and couldn’t bring herself to cut it.

       So now the girl in the mirror looked like her mother, but then Erin looked into her own stormy grey eyes and it was her father. The freckles made it turn into her brother, the dark lashes made it turn into her best friend. It was like the hall of mirrors at a carnival: she could see everyone, but they were all ghosts.

       She shook her head and turned the water off, drying her hands. She wasn’t any of them. She was just Erin.

***

       She still went to school, even though she didn’t really need to. She didn’t like it, but it wasn’t terrible either. It was easy. It was nice when things were easy for her.

       Aria was there, which was another reason it wasn’t terrible. Her full name was Arianna, but Erin never called her that. An aria was an accompanied song in an opera. That fit Erin’s best friend perfectly. Everything she did seemed to have some kind of rhythm. The way she moved, the way she spoke. When she laughed, it sounded more like singing.

       Aria had been Erin’s best friend for seven years and four months. She was the only person besides her family who knew about the universe in her head. She didn’t really understand the universe, but she understood Erin. And that was enough.

       Today they were walking home from school, down a street bustling with people trying to get to different places. Erin didn’t usually mind crowds. They were loud, but it was more of a background buzz. If she tried to listen to someone in particular, well, that’s where it usually went downhill.

       Still, she picked up pieces of conversations around her. I swear my math class is going to eat me alive. This is such a pretty part of town, we should come here more often! Cassie, stay on the sidewalk.

       Erin looked to her right, across the street, and saw a little girl with pigtails walking in between her parents. Cassie. Her name was Cassie. Like Cassiopeia, the constellation named after the Greek queen. The Lady of the Chair. One of the 48 constellations listed by the 2nd-century Greek astronomer Ptolemy. Wife of King Cepheus. Found high in the northeast on October evenings. Not that any of that really mattered, but Erin had always loved stars. So much that her father had said you belong up there, Erin. You belong in the stars.

       She looked up at the sky, but it was just clear blue. No stars. Erin sighed. She knew it was the middle of the day, she knew there weren’t any stars out. Of course there weren’t. That wouldn’t have made sense. But nothing had made sense since her parents left, and suddenly she wanted desperately to see the stars, to be up there with them in the sky. Maybe she just wanted to belong somewhere for once. Maybe she wanted her father back and that was all she had thought about for three-and-a-half weeks.

       Aria glanced over at her with a concerned look on her face, and Erin realized that she was shaking. “You okay?”

       Erin wanted to lie and say of course, or maybe tell the truth and say no, not for a long time, but that wasn’t true either. She had been okay. She used to have a family, a home, people who loved her. The whole truth was she hadn’t been okay for three-and-a-half-weeks. 576 hours.

       What she actually said was something along the lines of “Mmm.”

       “Yeah, I know what that means. C’mon, let’s get out of here.” Aria took hold of Erin’s hand firmly, leading her down the sidewalk. The touch helped ground Erin, as it always did, and she was again reminded why she was eternally grateful to the person in front of her.

       Aria led her through the crowd, walking with purpose so that people instinctively shifted out of their way. She was good at that. She had a very specific presence. Erin was sure she would know it even if she was blind.

      They turned from the sidewalk and entered a small cafè that Erin knew very well. The bell chimed as they pushed open the glass door, and the smell of coffee and pastries flooded their senses. There were the sounds of quiet conversations, rustling paper bags, and drinks being poured, but they were all familiar sounds. Much softer than the ruckus on the street. Erin thought she wanted to drown in it all, but the good kind of drown, when you are able to be fully consumed by something good.

       They slid into a booth in the back corner. It was a nice booth, sturdy but covered with soft cloth. The only sub-par thing about it was that it was in the exact spot for the sun to stream through the window right into their eyes. Erin shifted slightly, so that she wasn’t facing the window anymore. The sun was falling on Aria’s hair now. She was exceptionally blonde, some people said, but Erin didn’t like the word blonde. It felt flat, shallow. No, Aria’s hair was golden, glowing, touched by the sun. Literally and figuratively.

       “Hey, hey. Look at me.” Aria was giving her a look that made Erin feel like she knew everything she was thinking already. It was nice, because talking was a struggle sometimes. Communication in general, really. “What’s wrong?”

       Erin just gave her a half-shrug. She knew she wasn’t being helpful, she just couldn’t find the strength to form the right words. But Aria kept staring, so she mumbled something about Cassiopeia. Still not very helpful.

       Aria sighed, looking off to the side. “I know you’ve been having a rough time. I just...don’t know how to help you.”

       Erin nodded in agreement. She didn’t even know how to help herself. So she took Aria’s hand and squeezed it, and the apprehension fell away from her friend’s face. Aria took a deep breath in, as if preparing herself. “That wasn’t true, actually. I do have an idea.” Erin gave her a quizzical look. “It’s simple, but...” she shrugged. “We have to get your family back.”

       Erin bit her lip. Would finding her family make her feel better? Of course it would. It was the onething she wanted most in the whole world. Aria stared at her, trying to gauge her reaction, and she let herself consider it for a moment.

      “It would only be the two of us against whatever dark forces took them, obviously, but I think with your unlimited knowledge of everything in the universe we would have a bit of an advantage,” Aria was talking fast now, rambling, gesturing wildly with a anticipant smile on her face. “With enough planning...”

      Erin’s heart was suddenly hammering very hard in her chest. 100 beats per minute. She shook her head back and forth, over and over again, burying her face in her hands. Aria went silent, confusion written on her face. “What’s wrong?”

       Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Erin inhaled, then exhaled, then lowered her hands. “I’m sorry. I just...” she coughed. She couldn’t even talk about it. Attempting a rescue mission and getting her mom and her dad and her brother back seemed like the best thing to do, the only thing to do, but she couldn’t talk about the night they were taken. Couldn’t even think about it. Picturing that alley...those things...it made her vision tunnel, her chest hurt, her heart pound. That last one was new. She had been trying to block it out ever since it had happened, but she could still hear the screams of her loved ones dialed down to a whisper at the edge of her hearing. It was maddening.

       “It hurts to think about it,” Erin said slowly, hoping she had communicated her thoughts more effectively. Aria nodded.

       “I get that.” She paused for a minute, thinking. “Do you think...you would be able to think about it? Eventually, maybe?"

       Erin shrugged, squeezing her eyes shut. Every time she tried it was like digging into a wound she had tried so hard to stitch up. But didn’t everyone say time was the best remedy for things like that? Maybe, one day, she could try.

       For now, she leaned on Aria’s shoulder, and did her level best to forget.

***

       The apartment was quiet when Erin stepped through the door that afternoon. Dana got home from her office at five most days, and she had the place to herself for a while. She liked it that way.

       Dana was fine, of course, she just...didn’t understand. She was a friend of Erin’s mother, and since her parents had gone missing, she had been staying with her. Temporarily, Erin tried to remind herself, but it didn’t seem true.

       Erin had debated many times whether or not to explain everything to her, but putting it in words was hard. She had a hard time understanding herself sometimes. You are so special, her mother had said. So so special. You were born, and the sky saw how remarkable you were. It knew right then that you were the person it was going to share all of its secrets with. And so Erin was born with the knowledge of the universe in her head. It was a very large universe, always expanding, and it didn’t quite fit inside of one girl, despite how much the sky loved her. The universe was the right size, Erin thought. The universe was just as big as it ought to be, she was just too small.

       She had never thought of the knowledge she held as covetable, as usually it was an annoyance. But there were Things across the cosmos that wanted it, craved it, more than anything. Erin didn’t know much about the Things. The universe just didn’t accept them, and so they moved like shadows at the edge of reality.

       Erin had felt the Things, lurking in corners as she grew up. Waiting for the right moment to snatch her up. It was the perfect nightmare fuel, but her parents had helped to convince her that they were just imagination. A side effect of all the stress on her brain. She had believed it, or at least pretended to. Then it had happened, three-and-a-half weeks ago. Her family had been walking down the street, returning from an ice cream run. Suddenly there was a voice in her head, louder than everything around her. It was frantic, screaming at her to run away. Erin had looked up, confused, and saw that her family had turned the wrong corner into a dark alley. She tried to call to them, but they didn’t seem to hear her. They looked like they were in a trance, like someone was pulling them into that alley.

       Erin panicked, trying to drag them away, but whatever force drawing them into the alley was much stronger than her. When they were deeper into it, Erin caught sight of them. It was like she couldn’t see them, like they weren’t there, but so there at the same time their presence (or lack of it) was undeniable. They were shadows, black voids, holes in reality. Before she could react, her family was swept off their feet. Then they were themselves again, and they were screaming, and then they were sucked into the shadows and they were gone. Erin did the only thing she could: run.

       Afterwards she figured that the universe had protected her against the Things’ lures. But her family had still been vulnerable to it, and had gotten taken in her place.

       She knew she should tell someone, or at least try to find them. But they were beyond her reach, and that meant they were beyond the universe’s reach. It didn’t help that whenever she thought about the encounter she was flung back into the alley, and the feeling of helplessness overwhelmed her. Erin realized that she was shaking again, and laid down on the living room floor, limbs splayed out around her. Dana always told her that the couch was more comfortable than the carpet, but the floor always felt better. It was something about lowering her center of gravity, getting as close to the Earth’s core as she could. Maybe it was something entirely different, but it was comforting. These days Erin took whatever comfort she could get. She breathed in, breathed out. Closed her eyes.

       Her father was always the one to help her when she was like this. Well, that wasn’t quite true. He was the one with the practical solutions. He taught her breathing exercises, ways to ground herself, ways to distract herself. Things to count, things to think about. Little rituals that helped calm her down and bring her back to herself. She had never told him that what really helped her was just focusing on his voice.

       Erin’s mother’s approach was simpler. She would just hold her, and sing to her. Erin’s mother had a beautiful voice. Erin always thought it brought her back to her senses because the whole universe was straining to listen.

       Her little brother Mack even helped sometimes. He would just babble on about whatever was on his mind. It usually made her laugh, and laughing always felt good.

       She missed them. She missed them so much.

       Erin breathed in, breathed out. Didn’t even notice as she drifted off to sleep.

***

       Dana found her like that when she arrived home a few hours later. She draped her coat over the arm of the couch and leaned over Erin. “Hey there.”

       Erin opened her eyes slowly and stretched, taking a deep breath. She smiled in greeting.

       “I’m going to finish up some paperwork...why don’t you go wait for me in the kitchen? I want to talk to you about something.” Dana stood up and made her way into the hall.

       Erin pursed her lips in agitation. She had been feeling calm, calmer than she’d felt in days. But now she felt nervousness rising in her. What did Dana want to talk to her about? Her tone of voice had been serious, different from her usual playful air. It was a bit worrying.

      She pushed herself off the floor and went to the kitchen, dutifully waiting as she leaned against the counter. A few minutes later Dana returned.

       She pulled up a chair at the kitchen table and sat facing Erin, resting her chin in her hands. “I just had a thought the other day I wanted to mention to you,” Dana began cautiously. Too cautiously. Erin stood in apprehension.

       “You’ve just been so subdued since your parents went missing,” she continued. I wonder why, Erin thought. The air tasted like bitter.

       “I was wondering if it would help you to talk to someone.” Dana paused, for a split second, waiting for a reaction. “To help you work through everything.”

       Erin sighed, inwardly and outwardly (she took care to make the outward one less pronounced.) It was perfectly reasonable of Dana to suggest she see a therapist; she was quite an odd girl with odd habits and behaviors. But her parents had made the decision when she was little: don’t get doctors involved. Most of her oddities stemmed from her human-sized mind trying to comprehend the whole universe. It was a magical gift, one that psychologists were bound to misinterpret. Her parents had talked to many of them, to get ideas on how to help Erin, but never took her to them. Part of it was her own request. You never knew who could be a spy for the Things (it had made sense to her seven-year-old self.)

       But there was no way Dana would understand any of that. “I’ll...think about it,” Erin replied. She’d find a way out of it eventually. The answer seemed to satisfy Dana, though, who nodded to herself and got up. “That’s all I wanted to hear. You should get your homework done, I’ll start on dinner.” Erin nodded back, not telling her that she didn’t have any homework, and never even brought anything home from school. She always finished it in class.

       Erin slipped out of the kitchen into the music room. Her own bedroom was fine, but this one was better. It felt...calmer. More steady. She couldn’t really explain it.

       She sat down at the piano bench and ran her hands over the keys. She had never learned how to play the piano. She probably could if she tried.

       Sighing, she stared up at the ceiling, her vision drowning in the white tiles. Everything was too much. Everything was not enough.

       Maybe the important thing was what you did with what you got.

       The next day was Saturday. She told Dana she was going out, headed off down the street, and knocked on Aria’s door.

       “I’m ready,” Erin said. She wasn’t sure. But she wanted to try.

***

       “Where do we start?” Aria asked, almost giddily, as they rushed down the sidewalk. She was very excited to see some life back in Erin.

       “I have...an idea,” Erin replied, who was now the one doing the dragging. It wasn’t a very comprehensive idea, but it was a start. “I’m going to ask the universe.”

       Aria, all the more thrilled, followed wordlessly.

       It was a lovely spring morning. The park was full of people when they arrived, walking and
biking and having picnics. Erin paused as they strolled through the grass, hesitating. “I need to find an area without people,” she said. Aria looked around, blocking out the sun with her hand.

       “How about over there?” she asked, pointing to a far-off spot in the field, so far devoid of park-goers. Erin nodded.

      “You wait here. I’m going to...” she bit her lip. “Actually I’m not sure. But I’m going to do something.”

       “Well whatever you do, good luck!” Aria waved as Erin jogged over to the center of the field.

       She took a deep breath and lowered herself into the grass, laying on her back. She looked up at the sky, and felt like she might drown in its infinite blueness. She thought it would be rather more pleasant than drowning in ceiling tiles.

       She breathed in, breathed out. Tried to feel her surroundings. Not just the prickly grass and endless blue sky, but also the air and the space and the atoms that held everything together. She reached out. She could feel it all.

       So Erin stared up at the sky, but not just the sky. It was everything behind it too, the sun and the moon and the stars and all of space. Everything beneath her as well, everything surrounding her, everything, everything. She felt it all, and gathered it all in her hands.

       She asked it a question that was not really a question and more like a plea.

      “Please,” she said, barely a whisper. “Please.”

       The universe heard. The universe understood. After all, she was so remarkable. It had always thought so.

       Erin closed her eyes, and opened her hands. She released the universe, she let it go. It flew back to wherever it came from.

       She suddenly felt significantly lighter, and smiled. A drop of rain fell onto her nose. Erin opened her eyes and looked curiously at the sky, which she found to now be full of dark grey clouds. There was the soft pitter-patter of a light rain, and then it got heavier, and then she was soaking wet with raindrops that felt less like raindrops and more like an answered prayer.

       Did it mean anything? Yes. It meant something.

       Erin smiled, and laughed. It had been a while since she had laughed. She stood up and skipped through the field back to Aria, finally understanding what it meant to be loved by the sky.

***

       She found Aria under a tree sheltering from the rain. “I just have one question,” Aria said when she reached her, “Did you just make it rain?”

       Erin thought for a second. “Yes. At least I’m pretty sure.”

       Aria laughed. “Maybe you should go into meteorology.” She looked up at the dark sky. “Did you get what you needed?”

       “Yeah. Though it’s not really an answer. It’s like...a nudge.” Erin was buzzing with energy. She had a spark inside her that knew exactly what she was supposed to do next, even if she couldn’t quite comprehend it. Having a too-small brain was such a burden sometimes, especially when there was a whole universe to know about. Still, she had an inkling of what it meant. “Follow me.”

       “Wait.” Aria was staring intently at one of the tree branches they were standing under. “Do you see that?”

       “Hmm?”

       “A key.” The sun was glinting off of a golden key, which was hanging on a string from the tree branch.

       “Wonder whose that is.”

       Squinting, Aria slipped the key off of the branch and hung it around her neck. “I’m like a magpie, I can’t resist shiny things.” She laughed, then cleared her throat and said, “So, where to?”

       They left the park and took off down the sidewalk. Erin felt like a bird with an inner compass; she didn’t know the destination, but she knew the route. She and Aria walked side by side, purpose in each step. They went down streets and winding corners and parts of the city neither of them had seen before. “This way,” Erin said. “That way.” Somehow, she knew.

       She stopped short in front of a painted purple door which led into a small brick building. There were no signs on it, no windows. Nothing except ivy hanging over everything in sight, and the shiny gold door knocker. “This is it,” Erin said softly.

        Aria studied the door thoughtfully. “What do you think is behind it?”

       Erin shrugged. “I have no earthly idea.”

       She tentatively walked up to it and reached for the door knocker. Brass. An alloy of copper and zinc, first introduced in 500 BC. It felt cool in her hand. She lifted it up and let it fall, once, twice. Erin and Aria both waited anxiously, holding their breath.

       There was a quiet click! and then nothing. Erin stared at it, confused. She had been sure it would open for her.

       “I think it just unlocked itself,” Aria volunteered. Erin nodded; of course.

       She paused for a moment. “Do you...do you think we should open it?” Erin knew this was the place she was meant to find, but the idea of being in the presence of the Things threatened to overwhelm her with a crippling terror.

       Aria gave her an encouraging smile. “I think if the universe sent us here, we can trust it enough that we won’t spontaneously combust when we go inside.”

       Erin chuckled, and nodded. “Okay. Here goes...everything, I guess.” She reached out and twisted the doorknob, then gently pushed the door open. Nothing sinister jumped out. She breathed a sigh of relief.

       The inside was dimly lit, and they both peeked but couldn’t quite make out anything other than the entryway. Erin breathed in, and smiled. It smelled like cinnamon.

       Together, they stepped inside and slowly closed the door behind them. Aria found a light switch and gratefully flipped it, causing the lights to flicker to life. They were standing in a hallway, one that, to their distress, seemingly went on forever. Erin instinctively reached backward for the doorknob, but couldn’t find it. She spun around, and found that where the door had been, it was simply another wall. It had disappeared.

       Erin inhaled sharply, trying very hard not to panic. Walls are closing in. No way out. Walls are five feet apart...no, four foot eleven inches...ten inches...

      “Stay calm, stay calm,” Aria murmured urgently, for whose benefit Erin couldn’t tell. “There are lots of doors. Maybe it’s like a test? We should see where they lead.”

       Erin nodded fervently, stepping away from the dead end. Nine inches. “Try them all.”

       They both hurried down the hallway, rattling the doorknob of every door in sight. Every one they tried was locked. Eight inches. Erin was doing her best to get acquainted with the idea of being squished to death.

       Aria tested another doorknob, and to her surprise, it turned in her grasp. “Hey, this one worked!” She opened it and stepped through to find a spacious room, and she sighed with relief. “Come in here, I think I found where-” Just as Erin was about to walk through after her, the door slammed shut in her face. “Hey-” Her eyes widened. “Aria?” She called her name several more times, with no response. Her breaths got shorter and shorter. She tried to open the door, but it seemed to be jammed. Seven inches. “Come on, come on!” She pounded on the door, and jiggled the handle even more, and nearly fell over herself when it finally opened. But it didn’t lead to wherever her friend had gone- now it was just a closet. Nothing in it but cleaning supplies.

       Erin shut the door and backed away from it, her head spinning. “Aria!” she screamed, whirling around. It echoed throughout the hallway, but no one answered.

       Erin was very aware of the fact that she was close to hyperventilating. Nothing made sense...what was this place? Why would the universe send her here? It clearly was not fond of visitors. The hallway was just bright enough for her to see a few steps in front of her. Was it trying to trap her here? Had the Things found their knowledge at last?

       Pieces of information flew through her head faster than she could understand them. The number. of doors, the diminishing dimensions of the hallway, the kind of plaster the walls were made of...it was too much. She never should have come here. Erin wanted to run away so badly, but there was nowhere to go. She was stuck.

       Shhh, said a voice in her head. It’s okay. Was it the universe, or her father? She couldn’t tell. She was grateful for it, all the same.

       Breathe in, breathe out. Erin did as she was told. Somehow, for some reason, the walls stopped closing in on her. Close your eyes, child. See without them. 

       Erin shut her eyes. You’ve done this a hundred times. This time the voice was just herself. Five senses,  go.

       She could smell the wood from the doors, which were old, she now realized. Impossibly old. They were made of oak and mahogany and birch. Each smelled of dust and time. It was musty, and moldy. Just a little, but enough to be unpleasant. And there, beneath it all, the faintest trace of cinnamon. A ghost of a smile fluttered across Erin’s lips. Maybe not everything in this place was hostile.

       She tasted neglect in the form of cobwebs, and loneliness in the deepest corners. But more than that, underneath all the bitterness of the house, was...purpose. It was here for a reason. Erin just had to figure out what.

       She strained her ears, and could hear creaking footsteps somewhere off in the distance. Aria. Erin smiled, relieved. So she was okay. There wasn’t much else to hear, other than the walls settling every now and then. It was almost silent. That was...unnerving. And yet- there was something, so imperceptibly quiet, she almost missed it. It sounded like...singing?

       Erin reached out and touched the walls with both her hands. They were rough, worn with age. She knelt down and briefly felt the faded carpet. She learned nothing from it, but it did help ground her.

       Slowly, slowly. She opened her eyes.

       There was one thing she was absolutely sure of. She had to find where the cinnamon and the singing were coming from. It only cemented it in her mind that they were in the same place.

       Erin wanted to find Aria too, of course, but she knew that her friend was beyond her reach for now. This building wanted them separated, and there was nothing she could do about it.

       With a newfound calm, Erin set out down the hallway.

***

       Aria was very confused. Once the door had closed behind her, she had been in complete darkness. There was no light switch, but after several minutes of fumbling, she had found a box of matches on a table to her right. Upon further inspection, she realized the room was completely surrounded with candelabras, and had felt her way using the walls to light all of them.

       She found that she was standing in a ballroom, not unlike ones you saw in old movies. The floor, walls, and ceiling were all marble, and there were dozens of round tables set up around the room. They were covered with pristine cream-colored tablecloths, and were set with plates and silverware as if a real ball was just about to occur. The most puzzling thing about it was that while the hallway had been layered with dust, everything in the ballroom looked good as new, as if everything had just been prepared moments before.

       Aria pulled up a chair and slumped onto one of the tables. There were no exits that she could see, and the door she had come through disappeared as soon as it closed just like the front door had. Effectively, she was stuck there.

       The light from the candelabras was still relatively dim, and the huge unlit elaborate chandelier hanging over the dance floor was causing Aria more annoyance than it should have. “Would be helpful if you could light yourself,” she muttered into her elbow.

       She nearly jumped out of her skin when it did just that moments later. The candles lining the chandelier started burning brightly, casting the remaining shadows out of the ballroom. “Huh,” Aria whispered to herself, trying to regain her wits.

       “I wonder...” she cleared her throat and looked out at the room. “I, uh, wish that there was...food on the plates.”

       Suddenly every plate in the room was piled with delicious-looking food, roast chickens and potatoes and vegetables she couldn’t name. It smelled so good Aria was tempted to try it, but she knew better than to eat magic food. Anything could happen.

       So, it was a wish-granting room? Interesting place for it. Aria pondered for a minute, then said, “I want to know if Erin’s family is okay.”

       A door appeared at the other end of the ballroom, with chipped paint and a rusty knob. “...Thanks, I guess.”

       Aria crept over to the door. She pressed her ear against it and tried to listen, but there was nothing. Half-expecting it to be locked, she twisted the doorknob and thrust it open. Inside was a circular stone room, completely bare except for a mirror hanging on the wall across from her. It was a very large mirror, framed with ornate gold carvings. The interesting thing about it was that while it showed Aria in the reflection, the glass was tinted an inky black.

       Cautiously, she stepped through the doorway and flinched as it disappeared behind her. Could have seen that one coming, she thought grimly.

       Aria went over to the mirror, peering at it curiously. How was this supposed to show her Erin’s family? She ran her hand along the edge of it, sighing. It was then that she noticed a small indention in the frame, a hole. She squinted and tried to get a closer look. With a start she realized that it was a keyhole.

       Slowly, she raised her hand to the key hanging around her neck.

***

       Erin made her way down the hallway with purpose, following her senses. Eventually she came to a stop in front of one of the doors. This was where she needed to go.

       Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped through.

       And fell.

       There was no room behind the door, no floor. Just a pit. Erin let out a scream as she tumbled through the darkness, unable to see a single thing. It was hard to form coherent thoughts when you were in free fall, but the things that flew through her head were why would they lead me here? And I was so sure...and am I going to die?

       She thought she twisted around in the air several times, but it was hard to tell. She didn’t even know which way was up anymore. Just when Erin was considering the idea that the chasm was bottomless and she would be falling for the rest of her life, she caught a glimpse of light beneath her. It got bigger and bigger until she slammed into something hard.

       She was too scared to move at first, but after a few moments, she pulled herself up. A fall like that should have killed her, but she noticed with surprise and relief that she didn’t seem seriously hurt. In fact, the only thing she felt was a dull ache where her body had hit the floor.

       Erin stood up and took in her surroundings. She was standing in what looked like a greenhouse, with a stone floor and rows of different plants. She looked up, but did a double take when she realized that there was no dark chasm above her, just the glass-paneled ceiling. Sunlight filtered in through the glass walls, but there were no doors, and she couldn’t make out anything outside except for the light.

       In the center of the greenhouse was a decorative stone fountain, spouting water out of a spigot into the bowl beneath. Erin approached it tentatively, feeling for some reason that it was the most important thing in this room. She found that there were several coins dotting the bottom of the pool, and murmured a “Hmm,” to herself.

       She stood still and tried to listen. There was the splashing water, the slight draft ruffling the plant leaves, and...there. The singing. But it was coming from below her, beneath the stone floor. How was she supposed to get to it?

       Erin wandered around the greenhouse, exploring. There were all kinds of plants piled on tables, and some hanging from the ceiling. They were somehow all the same shade of green, without blemishes of any kind. She refrained from touching any of the plants, taking a guess that harming them in any way would have less-than-good consequences for her.

       Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted something tiny and red among all the green. Erin made her way to the other side of the greenhouse, where a small red flower was blooming on one of the plants. She cocked her head to the side and stared at it, curious. It was the only flower in the room. Upon closer inspection she saw that there was something tucked inside of the blossom. As gently as she could, she pushed the petals outward and discovered that tucked in the center was a small shiny penny. With a smile, Erin plucked it out of the flower and strode back over to the fountain. She said a silent prayer, and dropped the penny into the fountain with a splash.

       She jumped as, immediately, a trapdoor appeared on the floor near her feet. Erin reached down and pulled the metal handle, wrenching it open. Underneath it was a rickety-looking ladder leading down into the depths. Unsurprisingly, it was pitch dark.

       Reluctant to leave the warm light of the greenhouse, Erin sighed and carefully lowered herself into the trapdoor. She grabbed hold of the ladder and made her way down the rungs, a little bit terrified that she would slip and fall again. She gripped the rusty ladder so tightly her knuckles were white.

       Luckily, it didn’t go on forever. After a few minutes, Erin’s feet touched down not on another rung but on solid ground. She let out a sigh of relief and stood there for a minute, getting her bearings.

      Erin looked around. Wherever she was, she couldn’t see much of it. It was just a shade above complete darkness. When she tried to lean back against the ladder, she stumbled backwards when she realized it was no longer there.

      She took a few hesitant steps, not wanting to step off of a ledge or something worse. Erin stopped in front of what looked like a wall, but it was smooth and black and shiny, like marble. She reached out to touch it, and gasped when her hand went right through. The wall melted around her hand, becoming something in the middle of water and smoke. Her mind scrambled to find the answer to that, but whatever element it was, it wasn’t something natural.

       Erin quickly pulled her hand away from the strange liquid wall. She didn’t like how it felt. Like everything it should have been, it wasn’t. It made her want to squirm, and shake her arm until all traces of the substance were off of her.

      Focus, she told herself. It didn’t matter that the wall wasn’t wet when it should have been wet. It didn’t matter that it should have dissipated. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t control it.

     She closed her eyes. Breathed in, breathed out. Smelled the cinnamon. Wherever this place was, the universe had wanted her to come here.

       Erin took a shaky step back as she suddenly heard the singing. It was louder, much louder than it had been before. She was so close to it, it felt like she could reach out and touch it. So close that she knew for certain now that the singing voice was her mother’s.

       It was coming from the other side of the black wall. Her mother was on the other side of it. Her family, they were here. So close.

       Do it, she thought. They need you.

       Squeezing her eyes shut, Erin thrust her hand through the wall. The shadowy material bent itself around her, forming into some kind of gaseous substance as she put one foot through, and then the other. She was completely engulfed in it now. It felt like what the Things looked like, a comparison that made perfect sense in her head that she thought would perhaps not make quite as much sense if she said it out loud. Regardless, she hated it. It made her shiver, and shiver, and shiver a little more. She tried to take a step back, but she was still in the darkness. She was trapped there now. And the singing had stopped.

       Focus, she said again. She took a step forward, and another. Listened with all her might.

      She could hear footsteps. She wasn’t alone.

       “H-hello?” she asked the darkness. “Is anyone there?”

       A moment of silence. Two moments. Three.

       There was a hand on her shoulder.

       Erin screamed and pushed it away, shuffling backward as fast as she could. She didn’t know what was in here, and as much as she wanted it to be her family, the Things could play all the tricks on her they wanted. She couldn’t let herself be fooled.

       But then she heard his voice.

       “Erin?” It was her father, familiar as a heartbeat. “Erin, it’s me. Are you really here?”

       “Yes,” she whispered, part of her thinking it wasn’t real. “I’m here.”

       And then her father’s arms were around her, and then her mother’s, and her brother’s. They shouted her name joyfully, over and over, as they tackled her in a hug. She wanted to fold in on herself, she wanted to explode, she was so relieved she wanted to cry.

       She did cry, and her father knelt in front of her and reached for her hand. He rubbed his thumb over her palm, the way he always did, and said “Shh, it’s okay.” It was so nice to hear it from him and not just from her own head that she cried even harder.

       “I found you,” she cried, surrounded by the people she loved. “I found you.”

       “I knew you would!” Mack exclaimed in excitement, and though Erin could barely see him in the darkness, she could picture the exact grin on his face. She ruffled his hair as she sniffled.

       She turned to her mother, who was rubbing her back. “You’re the reason I found you all. I followed your voice.”

       “Well, there wasn’t much else to do in here,” she replied with a little laugh. “I’ve been singing a lot.”

       Erin felt the knot in her chest that had been there for three-and-a-half weeks begin to unravel bit by bit, but she paused. “Have you been in here the whole time? For twenty-four days?” A little bit of panic started to rise in her. “You’re not- did they feed you? Are you okay?”

       “We’re fine,” her father said quickly. “You don’t exactly get hungry in here. It’s almost like time is stopped.”

       Erin nodded. She took a breath and looked at her family. “I’m going to get us out of here.”

       She closed her eyes and thought, hard. She wanted a way out, and she was going to find it. A few moments later, she had a path in her mind. She knew the way.

       “Follow me,” she said, and slowly started through the darkness. Seeing without her eyes, Erin walked towards the exit. She wasn’t exactly sure what that was, but she knew how to get there. She heard the scuffling footsteps of her family behind her.

       “I always said you were special,” her mother said, and Erin smiled.

       The smoky blackness seemed to go on forever, but after a minute, Erin smacked into a wall. Surprised, she opened her eyes and saw that some light was filtering in through it. She ran her hand across it, and found that it was smooth. She didn’t know how, but she knew that their way out was on the other side of that wall.

***

       Aria debated with herself whether or not to open the mirror. She knew that the key she found would fit it; somehow, she knew. Half of her thought that Erin’s family might be trapped inside the mirror, and she needed to open it to let them out. The other half of her was scared of releasing some wretched Thing.

       What she tried to figure out was who had given her the key. It was clearly not a coincidence; whoever had left the key for her to find had wanted her to open this mirror. Were they good, or sinister?

       Aria thought about earlier that day in the park, how Erin had rushed over to her with life in her eyes and a flush in her cheeks for the first time in weeks. How the sun had glinted on the key when she slipped it from that tree branch. How blue the sky had been. And Aria knew, she knew that it had not been the Things who had given her that key. It had been the universe.

       Taking a deep breath, she lifted the key from around her neck and slid it into the keyhole.

***

      The wall swung outwards, and Erin and her family tumbled forward into the light. They fell into a heap at Aria’s feet, who had just opened the mirror.

       “You did it!” she said to Erin as she helped them all to their feet.

       “We did it,” Erin corrected. She ran over and hugged Aria, whispering “Thank you,” into her ear. She nodded wordlessly.

       The three no-longer-captees stood blinking in the stone room, their eyes adjusting to the first light they’d seen in weeks. There were many hugs and more than a few tears, and then there was a shiny red door in the wall.

       “That definitely wasn’t here before,” Aria said with a smile.

       “Where does it lead?” Mack asked.

       “I’m pretty sure I know,” Erin replied, and they walked out into the sunlight.