IS

Corey woke up early that next morning to the aroma of coffee and pancakes. Apparently, someone had gotten up even earlier. She sat herself up and just stared at her daughter’s angelic face, recalling the bizarre events from the night before. She was confused, but even more so, worried for Alley’s safety.

Their flight back was scheduled for the next morning, but Corey was having her doubts about making the trip home before seeing someone about her daughter’s condition. Her Mother had told her of a popular and well respected institute that dealt with things of that nature, right there in St. Petersburg.

She gently combed her fingers through Alley’s hair and kissed her cheek. Next, she rolled off her side of the bed and made her way toward the kitchen for a good, strong cup of brewed energy.

“Morning,” Corey announced as she approached her parents who were sitting quietly at the dining room table, both looking burdened with worry.

She pulled out a chair and they did their very best to address her with their pretentious smiles. Obviously, Alley’s incident had taken its mental toll on everyone. Nerves had been tested, and questions were high on the list of priorities at this early hour.

“Are you taking her there?” her mother asked, before Corey even had the chance to sit down.

“Good morning to you too, mother,” Corey sarcastically said as she dropped into her seat.

Her father reached to pour her a cup of coffee. “Now Barbara, I think that’s Corey’s business, don’t you?” her father stated.

“Really Frank, you’re not concerned? We didn’t just spend the past half hour talking about it?” her mother snapped. She took a sip of her coffee and regained her composure.

Frank had no response. He just looked away and cleared his throat.

“We’re just concerned honey, that’s all. Have you talked to your husband?”

“Josh, Mom… his name is—” and then a look of panic washed over her. “Shit! My phone!”

“What about it?” her father asked.

“I dropped it outside in the sand!”

“When?” her mother inquired.

“Last night,” Corey said, while practically jumping from her chair, making her way to the patio screen door. She opened it with its normal squeak and was overcome by the brightness that hurt her eyes. She was ready to march out to the stairs when something stopped her cold in her tracks. There, on the table, lying in the shade under the umbrella was her cell phone, covered with a light sandy residue. She turned around to her parents who were both standing just inside the door, both watching with curious concern.

“Dad, did you—” And then she stopped herself.

“Did I what, honey?”

“Never mind,” she replied. She turned back to her phone again, feeling a slight chill under the early morning sun. Her right hand became a makeshift visor over her forehead. “Mom, would you see if the kids want some breakfast?” she hollered. “And I think I’m going to need the number to that place,” she added, as her eyes stayed locked on her phone, bewildered, playing the scene over and over again in her head. No matter how receptive she was to other possibilities, only one possibility reigned true… she’d dropped it last night, back somewhere by the steps that led down to the beach. She knew that for sure.

“Aw, damn!” her father griped, as he walked over and lifted the broken wind chimes out of the sand. “That was one hell of a night, eh kiddo?”

“Yeah, it really was,” Corey answered quietly.

“Hey, you found it!” he said.

“What?” she replied, caught in a mental stagger.

“Your phone. You found it!” he stated again.

“Yeah. Sure did,” she replied, as her voiced cracked and she put up a pretend smile of her own.

It was almost as if she was afraid to pick it up. She stepped over to the table and lightly placed a hand on it, pretending to be discreet as her eyes policed the area around her, and then came to rest on the beach and shoreline before her. She was overwhelmed by a mixture of peculiarity and just plain fear.

Alley had been watching her through the bedroom window. Her mother finally snatched up her phone and went back inside to place an important call. She then moved away from the window and caught her own reflection staring back at her from a large oval shaped mirror across the room. Something had somehow changed in her appearance. She slowly approached herself, playing with her hair, touching and examining her face, while extracting memories of the conversations she had experienced with her strange bleached skinned visitor; before and after she retired to the quiet of her sleepless thoughts.

The more she thought about it, the more she questioned the difference between reality, and what had been a dream. There was an undeniable change in the way she felt and the way she perceived everything around her that morning. She moved closer still, to where her nose was practically touching the mirror and stared deep into her own eyes; feeling that if she tried real hard, she would be able to see something inside. She sensed it was there.

“Kids! Breakfast!” her grandmother shouted. Alley broke her stare and stepped back. She blinked and saw a sudden flash of something hideous, and felt the cold chill of evil that followed. She quickly shook her head and tried to push it away, but the vision was relentless, coming at her again. She then placed a hand out in front of her and winced as if she were feeling tremendous pain. A small drop of blood made its appearance from her left nostril and the veins in her temples began to pulse.

“Go away!” she commanded. The mirror cracked into hairline fractures and the vision quickly dissipated. Her brother was just about to check on her when he heard her plea and turned away to the kitchen, looking back in disgust for being verbally lashed at. He soon wrote it off, knowing she was under an immense amount of stress.

Alley stood there in awe, staring at her dissected reflection. She felt a funny tickle and wiped the blood away from under her nose and stared at her fingers. She was breathing heavily and the intensity of the moment had her shaking; emotionally distraught over what had just happened.

“Alley! Breakfast, honey,” her grandmother called once again. She quickly grabbed a half empty bottle of water from the nightstand and partially soaked one of her socks, using it to wash away existing traces of blood from her face and hand. “Coming!” she yelled. She checked herself in the damaged mirror one last time, lifting her shirt to blot the tears away. She inhaled a deep breath, pushed it out through her mouth, and left to join the rest of her family, minus one.

She almost came to tears again at the thought of her father, needing to hear his voice, at the very least. She wondered what he was doing at that very moment. There was so much she needed to tell him; so much he needed to know.

“Alley? How are you feeling, honey?” her mother spoke.

Everyone’s eyes directed to her, anticipating her response. “I’m fine. Why?” she answered, playing the role of ignorance as she seated herself.

“Why? Really?” her brother stepped in.

“Shane!” Corey snapped. Her eyes glared.

“Pancakes?” Alley’s grandfather asked, trying to soften the moment. Alley’s mother gave him the look, and he turned to clear his throat once more.

Shane wasn’t trying to be facetious. He had grown tired of watching his little sister go through what she was experiencing with no apparent solution. Making that remark was his way of letting everyone know this, including his mother, who until now, had her suspicions of his involvement, and just how much he secretly knew about her condition.

“Alley, honey, do you remember last night?” Corey asked.

Alley almost asked what part, as she had experienced far more than just the short, but intense, event they had all witnessed. “Yeah,” she quietly confessed, staring at the blank plate in front of her, not wanting to make eye contact.

“Honey, I’d like to go see some people, and maybe find out what’s going on with you, okay? Can we do that? It shouldn’t take long,” she added, doing her best to sell the visit.

Alley shrugged her shoulders, knowing she would have to give in to her mother’s request, when she herself was desperately trying to understand everything that was happening. “I guess,” she replied, feeling that even with the advances of today’s modern technological studies, there would be nothing discovered, no conclusions rendered. “How bad could it be?” she pondered. Man-–she was definitely her father’s daughter!

“Good, eat up! We’ll leave in an hour,” Corey announced.

Even with the air on, Alley could feel the hot Florida sun baking her left arm through her window as they made their way along 6th Street toward Harbordale, and ultimately, The Shekell Institute for Human Psychological Research. It had been quiet for some time, when Alley finally broke the silence.

“What are they going to do, Mom?” Alley called out from the back seat of her grandmother’s minivan.

“Just some tests I guess, honey,” Corey yelled over her shoulder.

Her mother was driving, and her grandmother was riding shotgun, with Shane directly behind her, and Alley behind her Mother.

Alley’s grandfather had decided to sit this one out. Corey’s first impression was that maybe he just needed a little down time away from her mother. She had her moments where she could be a bit too much. And no one knew that better than Frank. Corey and her mother began a random conversation, when Alley interrupted them with more questions.

“Does Dad know about this? Did you talk to Dad?” she asked, as her elevated nerves watered her eyes.

“Honey, I tried calling your father twice, but only got the answering machine. I left a message for him to call me.”

Alley turned to look out her window, trying to stay strong. A single tear ran the length of her cheek. Shane saw this and reached to touch her shoulder. Alley pulled away, denying his efforts to comfort her. She wouldn’t even look at him, feeling that he had betrayed her with his previous comment earlier that morning. Corey peered into her rear view mirror and noticed her daughter’s distress.

“Honey, It’ll be okay, I promise!” her mother said.

Alley’s grandmother turned sideways in her seat to give Alley a reassuring smile, as well. She only looked back out her window, doing her best to think of better things, when she noticed a girl who looked to be her age gazing at her from the car riding next to theirs. The girl had red hair and freckles. She smiled at Alley. Alley wiped her face and smiled back. Alley then turned away for a second, still holding her smile. When she turned back, the cute red headed and freckled girl’s face had been replaced by the disturbing white entity that now plagued her mind, even outside of her dreams.

Alley quickly turned a muffled scream into the space between her brother’s left arm and chest. Corey had turned up the radio a few seconds earlier to maybe comfort her daughter a bit. Neither she nor Alley’s grandmother heard her subdued cries.

Shane was awestruck by her sudden change of heart, as he once again felt her shake with fear, clutching his body tightly. “Hey Al. What’s wrong?” he whispered, trying to regain her faith in him.

She had no answer. After a minute or so, she lifted her head, still shaking, and slowly turned as her eyes met with those of her new freckled friend once more. Just like Shane, the red headed girl appeared confused and even concerned, keeping her perplexed stare as her family’s vehicle slowly pulled away.

“We should be there in about ten minutes,” her mother shouted over her shoulder, giving her daughter a quick smiling glance. “Who knows? This might be kind of cool!” she added, this time not bothering to take her eyes off the road.

Alley looked into her brother’s eyes and then rested her head against his shoulder.

“Yup. Might be kind of cool,” Corey quietly repeated to herself as the dark blue minivan pounded out the last remaining miles of their quest.