Through the Looking Glass

II

The scene before her started to fade, the mist walking over the bridge, racing to erase the night. With a finale glance at the ground her body was gone, replaced with the sight of the green grass. Isla pulled the glass away from her face, looked at it and put it up again. Still, nothing. "What the hell?" She looked at it again turning it in her small pale hands. The Opal dull instead of its gorgeous glow.

"I see you found the looking glass." A deep voice bellowed.

Startled she turns towards the voice and sees nothing but fog. "Hello?"

A tall male with cheekbones so sharp you could cut a piece of paper with them appears, walking out of the mist. His dark brown hair slightly damp from the mist hangs down over his eyes, like he's been out here for a while. He's wearing a purple button down and black trousers. "Hello. What do you think?" He asks nodding his head in the direction of her hands.

"Uh, well. I don't know what I think. I think it's... where am I?" She looks around, there's no change in the appearance except for a tree line appearing in the distance.

"America." His British accent flitting about the meadow.

"So Hell."

"Well, not America and not Hell. More of an in between."

"Purgatory?"

"Nope." He pops the P. His smile pulls out the sharp cupids bow in his lips.

"Heaven, Hell? What is it?"

He changes his stance to look more like a tour director. Holding his hand up to his mouth cupping it as if he has a microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen if you look behind you and to your right you will see the wonderful gates of Heaven. They stand at a remarkable 100 feet, and weigh a grand 428 stone. For the American in the crowd that's about 3 tons. There are a total of twelve, however you need only one." He bows at the end of his performance

Isla mutters "smart ass".

"Did you just call me a smart arse Isla? I'll have you know that I am a smart arse. Pleasure of doing service with you." He drops a curtsey, rolling his arm out as if he was talking to the princess of Scotland. He stands tall and salutes me while saying "good day madam." He walks off towards the gates.

"Wait! I didn't mean that!" She runs after him. Her voice straining with the volume. He slows his gait a little and turns around to look at her. She stops a short distance in front of him.

Isla rubs her neck, feeling something warm she pulls back her hand. Traces of fresh blood remain on her hand. "When will this go away?" Her voice once again hoarse. "It hurts like a mother fucker."

He leans down and reaches out, she backs away afraid of what he's going to do. He whispers for her to calm down at that he won't hurt her. Stepping forward his hand wraps around her neck and his eyes closed. There's a tingling sensation coming from her neck and travels all the way down to her toes and all the way up to her head. Her eyes go wide. His eyes flash open and she notices the blue swimming with the green. Hold on, the blue is literally swimming with the green. They move together never going in a certain direction. She backs away in fright and screeches.

"Dammit Isla stay still, I'm not going to hurt you." He comes forward again and closes his eyes. Again the sensation returns and his eyes open wide looking at nothing. Suddenly the feeling goes away and all that's left is a feeling of newness. "Better?" He asks wiping the blood off his hands on to his pants.

"What do you-" her own voice surprises her. "What the hell did you do?" She stares at him and gives him a hug knocking backwards. She releases him and straightens her shirt. He looks mildly shocked and yet uncomfortable.

"I just fixed you, clock. Anyway, gotta dash, my job is done." He walks past her heading to the gates.

She turns watching him leave. Suddenly it dawns on her that she doesn't know his name. "Wait! Again, just wait! What's your name? You clearly know mine."

He turns around and gives her a wink "Ben, the names Ben. Have a nice day little American." He turns back around still walking.

"I'm not American!" She yells at him. She swears she hears a 'whatever' come from him. "I'm Scottish you piece of trash."

He just laughs and snaps his fingers opening the gate. It slams shut behind him sending a shock wave across the meadow.

She looks down at the looking glass studying it more. It's gleam returns to it. Holding it up to her eyes the bridge and cliff return, however instead of night, it's morning and her body is under neath a white tarp. Forensic scientists and police officers walk around looking for clues.