The Rift

Part One- Lost- Prologue

It can be deadly. Once you enter, there is no guarantee that you will ever leave again. It's job is to lure you in, gain your trust with gifts, and then snatch you up forever. There is only one way out, and no one has found it yet.

It is The Rift. It is the place between reality and dreams. Normally, it presents it's victims with what they want the most. The place they’ve always wanted to go. The person they’ve always wanted to meet or the person they’ve always wanted to be. But behind all the goodness, the gifts and treasures, it will be waiting. Some will be entranced by its beauty and, so happy in this world, where everything is how they want it, they will never leave. Back in reality, their deaths will be blamed on a heart attack, or a mysterious illness. But it was The Rift that took them. Others will not see the darkness, hidden behind every source of light, and walk right into The Rift’s traps. Their deaths on earth will be unexplainable. But they were taken by The Rift.

 It can be dangerous. It can be tortuous. But if you can outsmart it, it is what everyone needs the most. No one has managed this yet. It’s hidden so well, maybe one in a billion will find it, or less.

I, of course, with my rotten luck, had to be one of the ones who did. But seeing as you’re reading this, you can assume that I survived, but even now, as my pen scrapes this paper, my story is not finished yet.

My name is Brooklyn. My family and friends call me Brooke. I grew up in Vancouver, British Columbia, with my parents. I’m an only child. I filled the loneliness in my life with books. Any books I could find. I’ve always been reader. But first, I listened. My parents read to me every night. All of the little kids stories, about princesses and happily ever afters’. When I was old enough, I began to write my own. I was never really social. I had little to no friends throughout elementary. Even now, in grade eight (almost nine) I’m always the odd one out. So I made new friends, characters in my stories; people that I wish were real. Fairies and elves and trolls and knights.

I grew out of that, eventually I focused on school, and my grades, and pleasing those around me. The imagination that had used to be so abundant in my person, withered and died, I along with it. I’ve been rather sad of late, out of focus and weary. I lose myself in thoughts. My grades sag. My parents yell. I lose myself just a little bit more.

It was late when it happened.

I was having trouble getting to sleep. I’ve never been very good at it, before I would stay up making stories in my head, and now I would lay around worrying about tomorrow. But that night had been particularly difficult. Outside, the rain poured, and lighting flashed, occasionally brightening my cold, dark room. I was above my sheets, warm despite the weather, trying to force myself to lull into sleep. I had a math test the next day and I couldn’t flunk this one, because then my grade might slip down too low and my average wouldn’t be above eighty and I wouldn’t be on the honour roll and parents would begin to yell. And all that worrying didn’t help me sleep. But eventually, I slipped into the world of dreams.

I had been standing on an endless stretch of barren landscape. It was pure white, like I was standing on a never-ending piece of paper. The blinding sun bounced off the reflective ground, stinging my eyes and forcing me to squint. Glancing around, I noticed the door. It was a wooden door, here in the middle of nowhere. No building stood behind it. Oddly, it cast no shadow.

The carving on the door was the most intricate I had ever seen, beautiful flowers, of every kind imaginable, adorned the sides.  Hummingbirds, caught mid-flight, were sucking out the rich nectar. The two heavy doorknobs were inlaid above a golden sun, casting it’s reflection on the lushly inhabited sides. All of the carving was so detailed, so perfect, it could have been real. A moment in the rainforest, caught forever in time. Of course, I still thought this all was dream, thought up by my unconscious, not something real and tangible, not a place in which I actually was.

Silly me.

After examining the incredible artwork, my attention turned to the door. Why had I thought it up? There was no other side, no place or building that I could possibly enter. But this was a dream, right? And crazy things always happen in dreams. So I pushed the door open. And I was not on the other side of the door, but in a whole new landscape, an alluring, beautiful landscape. Exited, I walked in. shutting the door behind me. It disappeared.

Listen carefully. If you ever, EVER, experience a door like that in your dreams, walk away fast. Pinch yourself awake. Anything it takes to make you wake up. And never think of it again. Not convinced? Read on. Maybe then you’ll listen to my words of caution. Because remember, curiosity killed the cat.

And I mean that in the most literal sense.