Red Thread A Novel in Three Incarnations

Chapter One: Another Day in Paradise The space was narrow and dim and smelled of dead rat. Grit from the floor bit his forehead. Sticky warmth worked down his cheek. He had a moment of panic when he realized he couldn't open his right eye. It was his own blood that sealed it. He ran his sleeve across his face. No good. He pried the lid open with his fingers. Was it night? Why was everything so dark? He found himself panting as if he'd been running up a staircase. Then he realized it wasn't lack of air but fear that winded him. Slow down. Breathe. Still panting, he glanced around. Hemming him in were walls of unfinished wood, not the gleaming paneling of the great rooms and hallways. But light, faint as it was, reached him from somewhere. Then he saw it, a wedgelike opening four feet above the ground, where wood abruptly changed to stone rising in the gloom. If he could reach it! Holding to the wall, the boy fought to make his legs support him. He swayed uncertainly. Just ten years old, he was not tall for his age and had to stand on tiptoe to see. Through the throbbing in his brain he heard echoing shouts and the clump of booted feet down corridors. He squinted at vague shapes. Steadying himself, he realized he was in the chapel, behind the new marble altarpiece. Behind it?Suddenly he couldn't breathe again.How did I get here? Dizziness buckled his legs, but he held on till his vision cleared. A flicker of light. Someone was on the other side of the altar! The candlelight grew brighter. The boy waited, breathless. There were so many people to be scared of these days. Then came a scraping sound, quite loud, quite near, of stone on stone. To his horror, he saw the opening grow an inch narrower, then another inch. "No!" he cried, pushing back against the marble. But he was too weak, and the altarpiece kept edging back toward him. "No!" His voice was louder now. "Stop!" The scraping ceased. A face appeared at the opening. "Oh!" The boy sighed with relief, recognizing the pointed beard, dented forehead, and intense gaze he knew so well. "It's you!" His eyes blurred with gratitude. This was the person he trusted above everyone. The man did not smile or speak. He turned to listen to the thumping of running feet, then moved away from the opening. "What's the matter?" the boy called out. "What are you doing?" The altarpiece shuddered and moved slightly, then slightly farther. "No! The other way!" The stone moved again. Only a sliver of light remained. "Don't!" the boy wailed. "Please don't!" His legs failed him and he collapsed in the darkness. The stone shrugged another inch. "Not you!" he moaned. The salt of tears mingled with the coppery taste of blood. "Not you, too!" A final shove, and the massive stone was set in place, leaving the boy in an insanity of blackness. With a gasp Dana Landgrave lurched up from the pillow, her eyes staring. Her mouth was dry, her heart beating hard. It took a few seconds to realize where she was. Yes, there were the glowing numbers on her clock radio, the milky gleam of the night-light reflected in the glass eyes of her bear. A gentle half light filtered through the window. The curtain stirred. Dawn. She swung out of bed, planting her feet on the cool floor. She wouldn't risk going back to sleep and dreaming the dream again. It had haunted her a dozen times this spring, but this was the worst. It was as if she were there. But where? Nowhere. She'd made it up. The doctor had told her it was natural for teenagers to have fears, about life, death, sex, you name it. What Dana had managed to do was turn those fears into a place -- a place that she returned to, furnished, and made real. So what was this altar business? What was that about? Whatever it was, the dream kept coming back. And who was the boy? SheTownley, Roderick is the author of 'Red Thread A Novel in Three Incarnations', published 2007 under ISBN 9781416908944 and ISBN 1416908943.