Read "Dimensions"
Dimensions
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Here's a sneak peek at the prologue and part of the first chapter.
Prologue
Vera couldn’t believe she was sitting in her own house, a knife pressed against her back. She didn’t know what to do. Should she argue with her captor, or simply cooperate? Is this how people behaved in the other dimension?
She breathed a sigh of relief for every moment that the knife did not pierce her skin. But each time she filled her lungs with air, she felt the edge of the blade, a constant reminder that she was indeed in danger.
Unaware when Paul was to return, she regretted sending the others away. She had wanted them to have a nice stroll on the beach, she figured she was safe enough. They were worried about the outside, about the town, but not about their home. Not until now.
This is the last straw, Vera thought. This is why I have to leave.
She closed her eyes, praying that Paul would arrive sooner rather than later.
Vera tried to let her minder wander, to visualize something to calm her nerves. She longed for when life seemed simpler. If only Sadie hadn’t... no, she refused to think in “ifs” anymore. But she did wish she could return to those easy days, when a walk around town was their biggest concern. She could remember every detail...
“We’ll leave soon,” Sadie said, tying her dark hair into a ponytail. “As soon as my mom gets off the phone.”
Vera nodded. She could hear Barbara’s voice chattering away, probably from the kitchen, though she only understood every few words.
As the lone cloud shifted in the sky, Vera watched as the front lawn brightened under the sun’s rays. She was shrouded in shade as she sat on the front porch of her best friend’s house, both girls stretching their legs out across the front steps so that only their toes were hit by the sunlight. There was a gentle breeze that occasionally wafted through the trees on the quiet street. These houses were considered the finest in Hanastown, not only for their picturesque architecture and vast property but due to their close proximity to the main street.
The main street sat on the flattest part of Hanastown, so that a walk in either direction was equally comfortable. Sadie was eager to arrive at the shoe store. Apparently she had seen a pair of shoes that matched the dress she planned to wear to her father’s fancy office party that evening. Since the general consensus was that Sadie already had too many shoes, Barbara was running the idea by Sadie’s father.
Though Sadie kept tapping her foot, ready to rush to the store, Vera didn’t mind the wait. After all, a trip to the shoe store was more maddening than fun for her – she’d be wearing the same pair of low heels as usual. Vera would rather stay outside, enjoying the pleasant weather. She loved the slow, easy pace of Hanastown. She never felt rushed.
Except when she was with Sadie.
“What is taking so long?” Sadie inquired, disappearing into the house.
Sadie was always frazzled before her father’s work events or parties. She always reminded Vera that they never knew what the night could turn into. Vera enjoyed some of the parties, but she wasn’t as enthusiastic as Sadie. So far, the nights hadn’t turned into much.
“She hadn’t even phoned my dad yet!” Sadie exclaimed, startling Vera and stomping down the porch steps.
Vera slipped her feet into her shoes and ran to keep up with Sadie. Vera wanted to take the roundabout route, where they had to slip through trees and groves that they used to play in as children, but Sadie already led the more visible way. They walked the short distance to the main street, where a cobblestone town square marked the beginning of a long street framed by sidewalk and businesses.
“I have to stop by my dad’s office first,” Sadie said, referring to the extra blocks they still needed to travel.
In the middle of the town square there was a fountain, where Sadie and Vera always stopped to dip their feet, and on a few nights when they were sure no one saw, to dip themselves.
“You can’t be warm already,” Sadie complained.
Vera dropped her shoes on the ground and put her feet in the water, and Sadie followed. Sadie took her feet out of the fountain a moment later, but Vera lingered.
“I’ll wait here,” Vera teased.
Sadie frowned. “I don’t want to go alone.”
Vera reluctantly removed her feet from the water. The gentle breeze immediately cooled them. She waved them in the air as Sadie stood with her hand on the hip.
“They’re dry!” Sadie insisted.
As Vera stood, a young woman approached the fountain, giving Vera and Sadie a small smile. She shut her eyes briefly and tossed a small item into the water. Vera watched as it sunk to the bottom.
Instinctively, Vera reached into the fountain and lifted the item with her fingers. The young woman looked at her in shock.
“Is this yours?” Vera asked her.
The woman stammered a reply. “I... I made a wish.”
Vera and Sadie exchanged a glance. They weren’t about to start an argument with a stranger. The young woman seemed to crumble under the awkward tension, and bolted in the opposite direction.
Vera looked at the circle in her palm, a lightweight copper dot. Sadie grabbed it from her and threw it back into the fountain, impatient, practically pulling Vera down the street.
Sadie’s father Harold had a large waiting room outside of his office. Chairs lined the room, most of them usually empty. But on this day Vera had to stand, for each chair was occupied, nervous-looking men and women wringing their hands. Vera wondered why there were so many people at once. She hadn’t heard Sadie mention that Harold was hiring anyone new.
Vera tried to examine each person without them noticing her stare. None of them looked as though they were from Hanastown. Their clothing and hairstyle were slightly different – Vera thought their outfits seemed rather embellished.
Sadie didn’t appear to notice. She stood in the corner of the room, arguing with Harold’s secretary.
“I need to talk to him,” she pleaded. “I don’t care if he’s on the phone.”
“He made it clear, no interruptions,” the secretary responded.
This wasn’t the first time that Sadie had barged in, demanding that she speak with her father during an important meeting or phone call. The secretary had been instructed to be firm with her.
“Fine,” Sadie replied, turning on her heel. “Come on, Vera.”
As soon as they exited the office building, Sadie announced, “If he can’t be bothered to answer my question, then his answer is an automatic yes. I’m getting those shoes.”
“It’s that they looked somewhat formal,” Vera said, trying to explain to Sadie why the men and women in Harold’s waiting room seemed out of place.
“Perhaps it’s because you’re too sloppy,” Sadie said with a laugh.
Vera was beginning to regret bringing up the subject. She rolled her eyes.
“Just trying to point out how different they seemed,” Vera mumbled, dropping the subject.
Sadie stopped walking, grabbing Vera’s arm. “Talk about different!” she whispered under her breath. “Look at him.”
Vera followed Sadie’s gaze to a handsome young man – conventionally good looking, but particularly Sadie’s type. He strolled along the sidewalk with an aura of confidence, though Vera detected a hint of uncertainty in his eyes.
“Don’t stare straight at him,” Vera admonished her friend.
“We want him to notice us, don’t we?” Sadie countered. “He’s approaching!”
The man did approach. They all smiled at each other, but then silence fell between them. Vera glanced at Sadie, expecting her to steer the conversation, but Sadie seemed to simply flutter her eyes.
The man finally spoke. “Do you girls have the time?”
Vera shifted her weight. She leaned a little closer to the man, unsure of his words. Sadie seemed to notice this, and copied her friend’s movement.
“You’ll have to come a little closer and ask us,” Sadie said with a grin.
“I seem to have forgotten my watch.”
Vera and Sadie looked at each other, ready to dissolve into nervous giggles. They all hesitated, and then their focus was distracted as a convertible car zoomed down the street. The driver almost clipped the sidewalk as the woman in the passenger seat squealed and laughed.
Vera jumped back, yelping when she realized how close they were to the edge of the sidewalk. Sadie’s eyes were fixated on the car as it drove away.
“What a car!” she exclaimed.
“It came a little close,” Vera replied.
Sadie shook her head at Vera. “Looks like fun.”
Then they both realized that the young man was gone. Sadie hit Vera lightly on the arm, as if it were somehow Vera’s fault.
The shoe store clerk grinned when she saw Sadie walk through the door.
“I knew it!” she said. The woman took out a box from behind the counter. “I saved the pair for you.”
Sadie smiled, clapping her hands together. “I’m wearing them tonight. I have the most beautiful dress – the most beautiful red you’ve ever seen...”
“You obtained your father’s permission?” the clerk asked.
Sadie nodded, her face blank. All she had to do was look convincing. The clerk handed her the bag with her shoes, and all was done.
Vera and Sadie stopped to get ice cream cones. They liked to stroll back to Sadie’s house with their favorite flavors on sugar cones, attempting to make their dessert last just long enough. Vera stared at the endless ice cream options as Sadie ordered her usual, chocolate marshmallow.
Vera couldn’t concentrate. A couple sat in the corner, arguing, and Vera felt as though they were clouding her mind.
“Need a suggestion?” James asked from behind the counter. They were friendly, as they went to school together.
“How about a scoop of silence?” Vera suggested quietly, but with a smile.
He laughed. “You’re lucky – you can leave! They’ve been here all day.”
Vera tried to look over her shoulder unobtrusively. The man and woman kept passing a notebook back and forth, the woman writing and drawing until the man would grab the pen and try to take over.
“It’s like they’re taking notes of everyone that walks through the door,” James said.
Vera felt a chill run through her spine. They looked harmless – they were probably tourists – but she didn’t want them to write any additional details about her or Sadie.
She ordered quickly and as soon as she had her cone, Vera pulled Sadie to the door.
“Let’s eat here and then race home,” Sadie suggested.
Vera shook her head. She didn’t know why, but she knew to distance herself from those people.
“How much longer?”
The gruff words broke into Vera’s thoughts. She had been so lost in memory that she gasped as she surveyed her real surroundings.
She still felt the knife pressing gently against her clothes.
“When will he be back?” her captor insisted.
Vera closed her eyes, her heart leaping. She wished she knew.
She breathed a sigh of relief for every moment that the knife did not pierce her skin. But each time she filled her lungs with air, she felt the edge of the blade, a constant reminder that she was indeed in danger.
Unaware when Paul was to return, she regretted sending the others away. She had wanted them to have a nice stroll on the beach, she figured she was safe enough. They were worried about the outside, about the town, but not about their home. Not until now.
This is the last straw, Vera thought. This is why I have to leave.
She closed her eyes, praying that Paul would arrive sooner rather than later.
Vera tried to let her minder wander, to visualize something to calm her nerves. She longed for when life seemed simpler. If only Sadie hadn’t... no, she refused to think in “ifs” anymore. But she did wish she could return to those easy days, when a walk around town was their biggest concern. She could remember every detail...
“We’ll leave soon,” Sadie said, tying her dark hair into a ponytail. “As soon as my mom gets off the phone.”
Vera nodded. She could hear Barbara’s voice chattering away, probably from the kitchen, though she only understood every few words.
As the lone cloud shifted in the sky, Vera watched as the front lawn brightened under the sun’s rays. She was shrouded in shade as she sat on the front porch of her best friend’s house, both girls stretching their legs out across the front steps so that only their toes were hit by the sunlight. There was a gentle breeze that occasionally wafted through the trees on the quiet street. These houses were considered the finest in Hanastown, not only for their picturesque architecture and vast property but due to their close proximity to the main street.
The main street sat on the flattest part of Hanastown, so that a walk in either direction was equally comfortable. Sadie was eager to arrive at the shoe store. Apparently she had seen a pair of shoes that matched the dress she planned to wear to her father’s fancy office party that evening. Since the general consensus was that Sadie already had too many shoes, Barbara was running the idea by Sadie’s father.
Though Sadie kept tapping her foot, ready to rush to the store, Vera didn’t mind the wait. After all, a trip to the shoe store was more maddening than fun for her – she’d be wearing the same pair of low heels as usual. Vera would rather stay outside, enjoying the pleasant weather. She loved the slow, easy pace of Hanastown. She never felt rushed.
Except when she was with Sadie.
“What is taking so long?” Sadie inquired, disappearing into the house.
Sadie was always frazzled before her father’s work events or parties. She always reminded Vera that they never knew what the night could turn into. Vera enjoyed some of the parties, but she wasn’t as enthusiastic as Sadie. So far, the nights hadn’t turned into much.
“She hadn’t even phoned my dad yet!” Sadie exclaimed, startling Vera and stomping down the porch steps.
Vera slipped her feet into her shoes and ran to keep up with Sadie. Vera wanted to take the roundabout route, where they had to slip through trees and groves that they used to play in as children, but Sadie already led the more visible way. They walked the short distance to the main street, where a cobblestone town square marked the beginning of a long street framed by sidewalk and businesses.
“I have to stop by my dad’s office first,” Sadie said, referring to the extra blocks they still needed to travel.
In the middle of the town square there was a fountain, where Sadie and Vera always stopped to dip their feet, and on a few nights when they were sure no one saw, to dip themselves.
“You can’t be warm already,” Sadie complained.
Vera dropped her shoes on the ground and put her feet in the water, and Sadie followed. Sadie took her feet out of the fountain a moment later, but Vera lingered.
“I’ll wait here,” Vera teased.
Sadie frowned. “I don’t want to go alone.”
Vera reluctantly removed her feet from the water. The gentle breeze immediately cooled them. She waved them in the air as Sadie stood with her hand on the hip.
“They’re dry!” Sadie insisted.
As Vera stood, a young woman approached the fountain, giving Vera and Sadie a small smile. She shut her eyes briefly and tossed a small item into the water. Vera watched as it sunk to the bottom.
Instinctively, Vera reached into the fountain and lifted the item with her fingers. The young woman looked at her in shock.
“Is this yours?” Vera asked her.
The woman stammered a reply. “I... I made a wish.”
Vera and Sadie exchanged a glance. They weren’t about to start an argument with a stranger. The young woman seemed to crumble under the awkward tension, and bolted in the opposite direction.
Vera looked at the circle in her palm, a lightweight copper dot. Sadie grabbed it from her and threw it back into the fountain, impatient, practically pulling Vera down the street.
Sadie’s father Harold had a large waiting room outside of his office. Chairs lined the room, most of them usually empty. But on this day Vera had to stand, for each chair was occupied, nervous-looking men and women wringing their hands. Vera wondered why there were so many people at once. She hadn’t heard Sadie mention that Harold was hiring anyone new.
Vera tried to examine each person without them noticing her stare. None of them looked as though they were from Hanastown. Their clothing and hairstyle were slightly different – Vera thought their outfits seemed rather embellished.
Sadie didn’t appear to notice. She stood in the corner of the room, arguing with Harold’s secretary.
“I need to talk to him,” she pleaded. “I don’t care if he’s on the phone.”
“He made it clear, no interruptions,” the secretary responded.
This wasn’t the first time that Sadie had barged in, demanding that she speak with her father during an important meeting or phone call. The secretary had been instructed to be firm with her.
“Fine,” Sadie replied, turning on her heel. “Come on, Vera.”
As soon as they exited the office building, Sadie announced, “If he can’t be bothered to answer my question, then his answer is an automatic yes. I’m getting those shoes.”
“It’s that they looked somewhat formal,” Vera said, trying to explain to Sadie why the men and women in Harold’s waiting room seemed out of place.
“Perhaps it’s because you’re too sloppy,” Sadie said with a laugh.
Vera was beginning to regret bringing up the subject. She rolled her eyes.
“Just trying to point out how different they seemed,” Vera mumbled, dropping the subject.
Sadie stopped walking, grabbing Vera’s arm. “Talk about different!” she whispered under her breath. “Look at him.”
Vera followed Sadie’s gaze to a handsome young man – conventionally good looking, but particularly Sadie’s type. He strolled along the sidewalk with an aura of confidence, though Vera detected a hint of uncertainty in his eyes.
“Don’t stare straight at him,” Vera admonished her friend.
“We want him to notice us, don’t we?” Sadie countered. “He’s approaching!”
The man did approach. They all smiled at each other, but then silence fell between them. Vera glanced at Sadie, expecting her to steer the conversation, but Sadie seemed to simply flutter her eyes.
The man finally spoke. “Do you girls have the time?”
Vera shifted her weight. She leaned a little closer to the man, unsure of his words. Sadie seemed to notice this, and copied her friend’s movement.
“You’ll have to come a little closer and ask us,” Sadie said with a grin.
“I seem to have forgotten my watch.”
Vera and Sadie looked at each other, ready to dissolve into nervous giggles. They all hesitated, and then their focus was distracted as a convertible car zoomed down the street. The driver almost clipped the sidewalk as the woman in the passenger seat squealed and laughed.
Vera jumped back, yelping when she realized how close they were to the edge of the sidewalk. Sadie’s eyes were fixated on the car as it drove away.
“What a car!” she exclaimed.
“It came a little close,” Vera replied.
Sadie shook her head at Vera. “Looks like fun.”
Then they both realized that the young man was gone. Sadie hit Vera lightly on the arm, as if it were somehow Vera’s fault.
The shoe store clerk grinned when she saw Sadie walk through the door.
“I knew it!” she said. The woman took out a box from behind the counter. “I saved the pair for you.”
Sadie smiled, clapping her hands together. “I’m wearing them tonight. I have the most beautiful dress – the most beautiful red you’ve ever seen...”
“You obtained your father’s permission?” the clerk asked.
Sadie nodded, her face blank. All she had to do was look convincing. The clerk handed her the bag with her shoes, and all was done.
Vera and Sadie stopped to get ice cream cones. They liked to stroll back to Sadie’s house with their favorite flavors on sugar cones, attempting to make their dessert last just long enough. Vera stared at the endless ice cream options as Sadie ordered her usual, chocolate marshmallow.
Vera couldn’t concentrate. A couple sat in the corner, arguing, and Vera felt as though they were clouding her mind.
“Need a suggestion?” James asked from behind the counter. They were friendly, as they went to school together.
“How about a scoop of silence?” Vera suggested quietly, but with a smile.
He laughed. “You’re lucky – you can leave! They’ve been here all day.”
Vera tried to look over her shoulder unobtrusively. The man and woman kept passing a notebook back and forth, the woman writing and drawing until the man would grab the pen and try to take over.
“It’s like they’re taking notes of everyone that walks through the door,” James said.
Vera felt a chill run through her spine. They looked harmless – they were probably tourists – but she didn’t want them to write any additional details about her or Sadie.
She ordered quickly and as soon as she had her cone, Vera pulled Sadie to the door.
“Let’s eat here and then race home,” Sadie suggested.
Vera shook her head. She didn’t know why, but she knew to distance herself from those people.
“How much longer?”
The gruff words broke into Vera’s thoughts. She had been so lost in memory that she gasped as she surveyed her real surroundings.
She still felt the knife pressing gently against her clothes.
“When will he be back?” her captor insisted.
Vera closed her eyes, her heart leaping. She wished she knew.
Chapter One Excerpt
Every office has a reliable colleague, one who’s willing to stay late while others leave early, offers to clock in extra hours to alleviate a friend’s illness, allows an acquaintance to attend a dream vacation or their child’s soccer game, and eats at his desk in order to finish an important report. At Jasper & Winchell Accounting, this humble employee was Campbell Jenkins. Despite his generous height and strong build, Campbell had the tendency to simply slip into the background, making him the type of man that everyone was happy to see, but no one thought about for long.
There was a bold streak in him, but it was buried beneath paperwork and mathematical figures, each number pushing a little more of Campbell’s vibrant personality into oblivion. He had once felt charming, but he didn’t have the opportunities to use the wit, grace or perseverance that he knew were within him. But if Campbell had known what was in store for him, he wouldn’t have dismissed his tenacity quite so quickly.
Campbell scurried into his office three minutes early. He was always early, not by a significant amount of time, but with enough of a head start to settle into his chair before the phones began their inevitable incessant ringing. Campbell envied the lives of his colleagues who always seemed to be rushing in late, fresh from an at-home crisis or a morning commute trauma. Deep down, Campbell felt he didn’t have any excuse not to be punctual. He followed the same routine every work day: a brief breakfast, a traffic-filled but short distance to the office and finally the slow, long hours of accounting.
Campbell remembered reading books about men like him – feeling trapped in the city, with a job that pays but doesn’t satisfy, returning to an empty apartment every evening – but the difference between Campbell and those lonely male protagonists was that their endless dull days eventually led to something interesting. A journey, or perhaps a mystery, a romance, or anything that made the previous years seem worthwhile. He couldn’t help but picture his own life as a novel, one that kept getting thicker but without any substance or character growth. It’d be a failure, he thought, as a compelling read.
He rested his hands on the top of his desk, only to remove them a minute later as the warmth from his palms made marks on the tabletop. He was never comfortable at work, it was stuffy and noisy, and he spent more time staring at client names on a computer screen and on paper files than he did corresponding with the person whose account he pored over. Campbell looked at his list for the day. First things first, review Ms. Allison Reed’s file.
Campbell pulled out the drawer of the file cabinet and pawed through the alphabetized tabs.
“Reed, Reed, Ms. Reed,” he muttered as he flipped through the folders, “where are you.”
There was a cafeteria for office building employees where Campbell could buy his lunch every day. Some of his colleagues rushed to nearby cafes or coffee shops, but Campbell didn’t think an hour was sufficient time to travel to a restaurant, finish a meal and return to the office. He was content to buy a sandwich and usually brought a book to read. Campbell liked to spend his hour on the small outdoor patio, but frequently the benches were already occupied, as other offices broke for lunch fifteen minutes earlier than Campbell’s. Today was one of those busy days. He settled for an indoor seat near the windows.
On this particular Wednesday, Campbell was without a book. He had finished reading a novel the day before and had not the time to visit the bookstore after work the previous evening. About the time he was guessing that it was going to be quite a long lunch break, he heard a familiar voice.
“Well, for once you don’t have your nose in a book.” A hearty laugh followed the statement, and when Campbell looked up, he saw Patty Hunt, one of the firm’s senior secretaries. A squat, rotund woman, she hadn’t updated her style since she was hired years earlier. Sometimes Campbell thought her sense of humor was equally outdated. However, she was harmless, and more importantly, she was kind.
“Yes, I’m terribly bored,” Campbell replied. “Would you care to join me? Your company will surely make the hour go faster.”
“Don’t tell me you’re eager to rush back to work! Silly man. Unless, of course, it’s because you can’t wait to return home. Someone waiting for you there?” Patty grinned.
Campbell managed to smile, but he couldn’t think of a light response. Instead, he pulled out a chair. “Please, sit.”
“To sit down and eat for an hour – I wish! This is when I run my errands. Loads to do.” Campbell sensed that Patty was ready to rush off, but she hesitated. She dug into her enormous tote bag and presented him with a house-and-garden magazine. “Here. It’s not one of your thick novels, but boredom trumps choosiness.”
Campbell glanced down at the cover, bright with a glossy photograph of an impressive coastal home. “10 Essential Items For Your Vacation Home” the headline read. Campbell chuckled.
“Just what I need,” he muttered. Then, in a gentler tone, “Thanks, Patty.”
Patty squeezed his shoulder as she walked by him to exit the cafeteria.
Campbell opened the magazine to its center and began flipping through the pages. He scanned a myriad of colorful pictures, from modern homes surrounded by grassy fields, to weathered cottages poised on narrow beaches. He didn’t take time to read any of the copy and he soon found he was staring at the advertisements near the end of the magazine. Most of the ads were for houses or properties, some sketched, others photographed. To Campbell, the pictures blended together, all but one. He found himself inexplicably drawn to a snapshot of an elegant, multi-story beach house. He tried to figure out what made it different from the denizens of other photographs.
He couldn’t avert his eyes. A wave of familiarity washed over him, then disturbance as he looked closer.
What happened to the window seats, he thought, his pulse racing. Who in their right mind would eliminate bay windows? And the outside paint color is far too stark. It must look horrible when the sun comes out...
Somehow, with force, Campbell managed to turn away from the magazine. He shook his head, in an attempt to clear his mind. He’d never seen that house before and he didn’t recognize the town. He never before had a reaction to how someone chose to design their own home. Why should it bother him now?
Campbell slammed the magazine closed and pushed it away from him. He knew the polite response would be to return it to Patty; her desk wasn’t far from his office. But he left the magazine on the table. Though he couldn’t bring himself to throw it in the trash can, he couldn’t seem to hold it in his hands any longer.
Late that night, long after he had eaten dinner, Campbell stared at the book jackets that lined the few shelves in his living room. He’d read most of the novels and the main portions of the various nonfiction books he saved. Again he’d gone directly home instead of stopping at the bookstore. He was rather tired, and the books were suddenly and surprisingly unappealing. They looked dull, and void of color
He decided to go straight to bed. He often dreaded falling asleep – some nights he could swear it was mere seconds between nodding off and waking to the CD in his alarm clock. But he always felt the effects from a lack of sleep, so he knew he’d thank himself the next day.
Campbell always hated the expression, but if he had been forced to describe himself that night, he would’ve said that he dozed the minute his head hit the pillow.
The first sound Campbell heard was a loud crash. He couldn’t see anything, and waved his hands in the air as he struggled to reach the lamp on his bedside table. He wondered why he was unable to touch the lamp; his hands only came in contact with cool air. He heard repeated crashes, separated only by short pauses. He rubbed his eyes, and then pushed the bedcovers off his chest. Suddenly, he froze. He knew he’d gone to bed with a sheet and light blanket over him. Now he felt the additional weight of a comforter.
The blackness that Campbell saw began to be pierced with bright flashes and squiggles of color. He continued to hear the noise that awoke him, but the steady rhythm didn’t frighten him as much as his inability to see. Several minutes went by before Campbell was able to view his surroundings, and even then he didn’t quite believe his eyes. He was indeed in bed, but instead of the stark bedroom he awoke in each morning, with its white walls and charcoal-colored armoire, Campbell stared at subtly striped wallpaper and numerous framed watercolor paintings. The paintings were all of sailboats and the sea. To the right side of the bed, there were two upholstered green chairs and a low, tiny table, and when Campbell turned to his left, he faced a window seat. His mind raced. The window seat jogged his memory – he had just seen this house when he looked through Patty’s magazine. Campbell sat up in the bed, still fixated upon the window. The upper part was open, allowing a breeze to enter the room.
Campbell had a direct view of sand and ocean.
He realized at once that he was not hearing crashes, rather, he was listening to the melody of ocean waves. Funny, he thought briefly, how sounds are only relaxing once the source is revealed.
Campbell looked out the window again. He was absolutely convinced that he was dreaming.
Unable to wake himself, Campbell realized that he had two options. He could lay back against the fluffy white pillow and wait, probably drift into a different dream, or he could step out of bed and explore the inner workings of his subconscious. He chose the latter.
He padded across the wood floor and opened the door to the hallway. As he peered into the lengthy, narrow hallway, a man walked past Campbell. The man was dressed somewhat formally for the beach, Campbell thought, in long pants and a jacket. The man stopped when he noticed Campbell, still in his pajamas: a t-shirt and shorts.
“Guests are required to dress before breakfast,” the man said, his eyes twinkling.
Campbell nodded. “Of course.”
He found similar clothes in the room’s closet and dressed quickly in pants and a lightweight jacket. As he slipped on brown leather shoes, he tried to recall if he’d read any historical novels recently. Yet the furnishings and clothing didn’t evoke a particular era. Not surprising, Campbell mused, that his mind was a hodgepodge of images and references. He’d have to make an effort to enjoy the dream now, analyze later.
Campbell opened the door again, this time to an empty hallway. He shut the door behind him and inched towards the staircase. He paused briefly at each closed door along the way, but he didn’t hear any sounds from the rooms. He could, however, clearly hear laughter and chatter from downstairs. He wondered who the voices belonged to.
The answer was quickly revealed. He easily found the dining room, open to the kitchen and living room, where two men, one of them the man who had spoken to Campbell upstairs, sat at a rectangular table. A woman with dark blonde hair set a pitcher of orange juice onto the table and seated herself. Though she neared middle-age, Campbell could tell she’d been a beauty in her youth. Her once-dewy skin was now lined from a lifetime filled with sorrow and perfunctory duties. She was the first to see Campbell as he lingered in the doorway.
The woman smiled briefly and motioned for him to come closer. Her otherwise welcoming demeanor was mixed with a cautious tone. “Joining us for breakfast? We didn’t know when we’d see you, since you arrived so much later than we expected last night.”
The man that Campbell did not recognize turned to face him. He didn’t exactly smile, but his eyes were friendly. “Don’t feel bad. Everyone misjudges how long it takes to get here.”
“I’m just glad he wasn’t lost, is all,” the woman protested, lightly slapping the man on his wrist. “Hope you don’t think we were impolite for not waiting up...”
Campbell shook his head. “Not at all. I...” He didn’t know what else to say.
“You found your room,” the woman finished for him. She motioned for Campbell to sit down at the table, and when he did, she seemed to relax. “Now that we’re all face to face... I’m Vera Reddington and this is my husband, Paul. This other fellow here is Tom. He’s staying for awhile, as well.”
As well? Campbell wondered.
“I’m Campbell,” he managed to utter, fighting an urge to either laugh with giddiness or scream with terror. He thought for a minute. “In summertime, days always seem to blend together... I’m having the most difficult time remembering today’s date.”
Vera and Paul exchanged a look with one another. Tom looked down at his eggs, but Campbell thought he saw him smile. Vera was the one to speak.
“Our daughter is coming home today,” she continued, apparently ignoring Campbell’s question.
Campbell learned that the daughter, Allison, lived in the city – though what city, for the name was never forthcoming. Exactly how old she was remained a mystery, as well, though Campbell figured the vague “mid-twenties” was the best guess. Other details were revealed more openly: the Reddingtons ran a casual bed-and-breakfast, with only a handful of visitors at a time. Their guests were usually businessmen and businesswomen that stayed for indefinite periods of time, eager for a break from work. Campbell noticed that Vera stressed how the guests feel rejuvenated after their stays. Just as Campbell began to wonder if he were in a counseling session, Vera stood and cleared the breakfast dishes, all the while chatting happily about an upcoming beach party.
Vera shushed Campbell’s offer of help, and instead practically pushed him out of the house. She insisted that he either explore the beach or take a short walk to the nearby main street of their small beach town. Campbell stood on the sand in front of the house, backed up several feet, and stared again. He knew it was definitely the featured magazine home, but with a few important changes. The window seats were present here and the paint a more agreeable shade of pink-tinged mocha that shifted hues depending upon the amount of sunlight. Crisp white trim added a clean, sharp look. It wasn’t exactly as pictured in the magazine. It was as he remembered.
He wasn’t sure which direction to go, so he followed the sand that felt drier and softer beneath his feet. He walked a short distance, stopping periodically to survey the houses. Everything had a sense of familiarity to him. Campbell would’ve equated the feeling to a memory from childhood, but he was certain he had never visited this place before. This place... what was the name of the town? No one uttered it and Campbell didn’t see a single sign.
He approached an area of beach where the sand interspersed with tufts of grass and several small trees, giving the look of a shabby park. He heard the waves crash, but he also heard a higher pitch, almost a tinny sound. He looked up at the trees, expecting to see a bird or animal. Instead, his eyes fell upon a set of minuscule wind chimes.
“Are these yours?” He heard the voice before he saw the young woman, sitting on the ground against the tree. She had dark blonde hair and wore a dress that fell just below her knees. A straw hat lay on the grass next to her.
“I’ve never been here before,” Campbell replied.
The girl smiled and craned her neck to look at the chimes. “I don’t know who left them.”
A gust of wind blew through the narrow park, causing the chimes to clang incessantly. “Of course,” she continued, “I’ll probably take them down before I leave. They may bother someone.”
She stood, lifting the chimes from the tree branch. She placed them gently against the bottom of the tree, so that they were unable to ring. “There. The next person can enjoy them if they choose.”
“Someone might steal them before then,” Campbell replied. He shrugged casually, but the girl turned to him with a confused expression on her face.
“Why do you say that?” she asked.
Campbell hesitated. He didn’t know whether he had offended her. “I hope no one takes them. This must be a safe town.”
The girl grinned, picked up her hat from the ground and put it on her head. “That’s right, you said you weren’t from around here. Tell me about yourself.”
“Well... I’m Campbell Jenkins. I suppose you could say I’m on vacation.”
“Vacation?” The girl’s eyes lit up. “Well, you’re probably staying...”
“With your parents,” Campbell finished. “Yes. You must be Allison.”
She turned to him and looked directly into his eyes. “How did you know that?”
“They said you were coming home today.”
She lowered her eyes, thought for a moment, then spoke. “But I could’ve been anyone sitting there...”
“You were just how I envisioned you.”
Allison seemed to like this, and she allowed Campbell to take her arm.
“Would you like me to show you around town?” Allison asked him. “It’s not far.”
Campbell was about to agree when he suddenly heard a loud, buzzing sound. He looked around, in an attempt to see where it came from. “What is that?” he asked.
“What?”
“That noise.”
Allison paused. “I don’t hear anything.”
Bzzz. The noise pierced Campbell’s brain, causing him to place both his hands against his temples. His head throbbed, but what hurt more was Campbell’s immense disappointment. He recognized the noise as his alarm clock, and realized that he was waking up from a vivid dream.
Campbell looked around his bedroom. He pulled his sheets over his head.
But Campbell never missed work, so after a few minutes spent pouting, Campbell showered, dressed and headed for the office. He was fairly glum as he plopped down in his desk chair. He glanced down at his desk to see what he had left there the previous evening. Patty’s magazine lay directly in the center of the desk.
Campbell was certain that he hadn’t brought the magazine into his office – he had, quite shamefully, left it in the cafeteria. Campbell slowly opened the magazine and gently flipped through the pages, making sure it was the same issue he had looked at yesterday. He paused when he came to the familiar house. Although the photographed house wasn’t exactly the same, the changes still bothered him and he couldn’t bear to look at the picture. He slammed the magazine shut and threw it into his trash can. Then, thinking better of it, he took out the magazine and marched through the office hallways until he reached Patty’s desk. She wasn’t there yet, so he tossed the magazine onto her desk and returned to his own office.
There was a bold streak in him, but it was buried beneath paperwork and mathematical figures, each number pushing a little more of Campbell’s vibrant personality into oblivion. He had once felt charming, but he didn’t have the opportunities to use the wit, grace or perseverance that he knew were within him. But if Campbell had known what was in store for him, he wouldn’t have dismissed his tenacity quite so quickly.
Campbell scurried into his office three minutes early. He was always early, not by a significant amount of time, but with enough of a head start to settle into his chair before the phones began their inevitable incessant ringing. Campbell envied the lives of his colleagues who always seemed to be rushing in late, fresh from an at-home crisis or a morning commute trauma. Deep down, Campbell felt he didn’t have any excuse not to be punctual. He followed the same routine every work day: a brief breakfast, a traffic-filled but short distance to the office and finally the slow, long hours of accounting.
Campbell remembered reading books about men like him – feeling trapped in the city, with a job that pays but doesn’t satisfy, returning to an empty apartment every evening – but the difference between Campbell and those lonely male protagonists was that their endless dull days eventually led to something interesting. A journey, or perhaps a mystery, a romance, or anything that made the previous years seem worthwhile. He couldn’t help but picture his own life as a novel, one that kept getting thicker but without any substance or character growth. It’d be a failure, he thought, as a compelling read.
He rested his hands on the top of his desk, only to remove them a minute later as the warmth from his palms made marks on the tabletop. He was never comfortable at work, it was stuffy and noisy, and he spent more time staring at client names on a computer screen and on paper files than he did corresponding with the person whose account he pored over. Campbell looked at his list for the day. First things first, review Ms. Allison Reed’s file.
Campbell pulled out the drawer of the file cabinet and pawed through the alphabetized tabs.
“Reed, Reed, Ms. Reed,” he muttered as he flipped through the folders, “where are you.”
There was a cafeteria for office building employees where Campbell could buy his lunch every day. Some of his colleagues rushed to nearby cafes or coffee shops, but Campbell didn’t think an hour was sufficient time to travel to a restaurant, finish a meal and return to the office. He was content to buy a sandwich and usually brought a book to read. Campbell liked to spend his hour on the small outdoor patio, but frequently the benches were already occupied, as other offices broke for lunch fifteen minutes earlier than Campbell’s. Today was one of those busy days. He settled for an indoor seat near the windows.
On this particular Wednesday, Campbell was without a book. He had finished reading a novel the day before and had not the time to visit the bookstore after work the previous evening. About the time he was guessing that it was going to be quite a long lunch break, he heard a familiar voice.
“Well, for once you don’t have your nose in a book.” A hearty laugh followed the statement, and when Campbell looked up, he saw Patty Hunt, one of the firm’s senior secretaries. A squat, rotund woman, she hadn’t updated her style since she was hired years earlier. Sometimes Campbell thought her sense of humor was equally outdated. However, she was harmless, and more importantly, she was kind.
“Yes, I’m terribly bored,” Campbell replied. “Would you care to join me? Your company will surely make the hour go faster.”
“Don’t tell me you’re eager to rush back to work! Silly man. Unless, of course, it’s because you can’t wait to return home. Someone waiting for you there?” Patty grinned.
Campbell managed to smile, but he couldn’t think of a light response. Instead, he pulled out a chair. “Please, sit.”
“To sit down and eat for an hour – I wish! This is when I run my errands. Loads to do.” Campbell sensed that Patty was ready to rush off, but she hesitated. She dug into her enormous tote bag and presented him with a house-and-garden magazine. “Here. It’s not one of your thick novels, but boredom trumps choosiness.”
Campbell glanced down at the cover, bright with a glossy photograph of an impressive coastal home. “10 Essential Items For Your Vacation Home” the headline read. Campbell chuckled.
“Just what I need,” he muttered. Then, in a gentler tone, “Thanks, Patty.”
Patty squeezed his shoulder as she walked by him to exit the cafeteria.
Campbell opened the magazine to its center and began flipping through the pages. He scanned a myriad of colorful pictures, from modern homes surrounded by grassy fields, to weathered cottages poised on narrow beaches. He didn’t take time to read any of the copy and he soon found he was staring at the advertisements near the end of the magazine. Most of the ads were for houses or properties, some sketched, others photographed. To Campbell, the pictures blended together, all but one. He found himself inexplicably drawn to a snapshot of an elegant, multi-story beach house. He tried to figure out what made it different from the denizens of other photographs.
He couldn’t avert his eyes. A wave of familiarity washed over him, then disturbance as he looked closer.
What happened to the window seats, he thought, his pulse racing. Who in their right mind would eliminate bay windows? And the outside paint color is far too stark. It must look horrible when the sun comes out...
Somehow, with force, Campbell managed to turn away from the magazine. He shook his head, in an attempt to clear his mind. He’d never seen that house before and he didn’t recognize the town. He never before had a reaction to how someone chose to design their own home. Why should it bother him now?
Campbell slammed the magazine closed and pushed it away from him. He knew the polite response would be to return it to Patty; her desk wasn’t far from his office. But he left the magazine on the table. Though he couldn’t bring himself to throw it in the trash can, he couldn’t seem to hold it in his hands any longer.
Late that night, long after he had eaten dinner, Campbell stared at the book jackets that lined the few shelves in his living room. He’d read most of the novels and the main portions of the various nonfiction books he saved. Again he’d gone directly home instead of stopping at the bookstore. He was rather tired, and the books were suddenly and surprisingly unappealing. They looked dull, and void of color
He decided to go straight to bed. He often dreaded falling asleep – some nights he could swear it was mere seconds between nodding off and waking to the CD in his alarm clock. But he always felt the effects from a lack of sleep, so he knew he’d thank himself the next day.
Campbell always hated the expression, but if he had been forced to describe himself that night, he would’ve said that he dozed the minute his head hit the pillow.
The first sound Campbell heard was a loud crash. He couldn’t see anything, and waved his hands in the air as he struggled to reach the lamp on his bedside table. He wondered why he was unable to touch the lamp; his hands only came in contact with cool air. He heard repeated crashes, separated only by short pauses. He rubbed his eyes, and then pushed the bedcovers off his chest. Suddenly, he froze. He knew he’d gone to bed with a sheet and light blanket over him. Now he felt the additional weight of a comforter.
The blackness that Campbell saw began to be pierced with bright flashes and squiggles of color. He continued to hear the noise that awoke him, but the steady rhythm didn’t frighten him as much as his inability to see. Several minutes went by before Campbell was able to view his surroundings, and even then he didn’t quite believe his eyes. He was indeed in bed, but instead of the stark bedroom he awoke in each morning, with its white walls and charcoal-colored armoire, Campbell stared at subtly striped wallpaper and numerous framed watercolor paintings. The paintings were all of sailboats and the sea. To the right side of the bed, there were two upholstered green chairs and a low, tiny table, and when Campbell turned to his left, he faced a window seat. His mind raced. The window seat jogged his memory – he had just seen this house when he looked through Patty’s magazine. Campbell sat up in the bed, still fixated upon the window. The upper part was open, allowing a breeze to enter the room.
Campbell had a direct view of sand and ocean.
He realized at once that he was not hearing crashes, rather, he was listening to the melody of ocean waves. Funny, he thought briefly, how sounds are only relaxing once the source is revealed.
Campbell looked out the window again. He was absolutely convinced that he was dreaming.
Unable to wake himself, Campbell realized that he had two options. He could lay back against the fluffy white pillow and wait, probably drift into a different dream, or he could step out of bed and explore the inner workings of his subconscious. He chose the latter.
He padded across the wood floor and opened the door to the hallway. As he peered into the lengthy, narrow hallway, a man walked past Campbell. The man was dressed somewhat formally for the beach, Campbell thought, in long pants and a jacket. The man stopped when he noticed Campbell, still in his pajamas: a t-shirt and shorts.
“Guests are required to dress before breakfast,” the man said, his eyes twinkling.
Campbell nodded. “Of course.”
He found similar clothes in the room’s closet and dressed quickly in pants and a lightweight jacket. As he slipped on brown leather shoes, he tried to recall if he’d read any historical novels recently. Yet the furnishings and clothing didn’t evoke a particular era. Not surprising, Campbell mused, that his mind was a hodgepodge of images and references. He’d have to make an effort to enjoy the dream now, analyze later.
Campbell opened the door again, this time to an empty hallway. He shut the door behind him and inched towards the staircase. He paused briefly at each closed door along the way, but he didn’t hear any sounds from the rooms. He could, however, clearly hear laughter and chatter from downstairs. He wondered who the voices belonged to.
The answer was quickly revealed. He easily found the dining room, open to the kitchen and living room, where two men, one of them the man who had spoken to Campbell upstairs, sat at a rectangular table. A woman with dark blonde hair set a pitcher of orange juice onto the table and seated herself. Though she neared middle-age, Campbell could tell she’d been a beauty in her youth. Her once-dewy skin was now lined from a lifetime filled with sorrow and perfunctory duties. She was the first to see Campbell as he lingered in the doorway.
The woman smiled briefly and motioned for him to come closer. Her otherwise welcoming demeanor was mixed with a cautious tone. “Joining us for breakfast? We didn’t know when we’d see you, since you arrived so much later than we expected last night.”
The man that Campbell did not recognize turned to face him. He didn’t exactly smile, but his eyes were friendly. “Don’t feel bad. Everyone misjudges how long it takes to get here.”
“I’m just glad he wasn’t lost, is all,” the woman protested, lightly slapping the man on his wrist. “Hope you don’t think we were impolite for not waiting up...”
Campbell shook his head. “Not at all. I...” He didn’t know what else to say.
“You found your room,” the woman finished for him. She motioned for Campbell to sit down at the table, and when he did, she seemed to relax. “Now that we’re all face to face... I’m Vera Reddington and this is my husband, Paul. This other fellow here is Tom. He’s staying for awhile, as well.”
As well? Campbell wondered.
“I’m Campbell,” he managed to utter, fighting an urge to either laugh with giddiness or scream with terror. He thought for a minute. “In summertime, days always seem to blend together... I’m having the most difficult time remembering today’s date.”
Vera and Paul exchanged a look with one another. Tom looked down at his eggs, but Campbell thought he saw him smile. Vera was the one to speak.
“Our daughter is coming home today,” she continued, apparently ignoring Campbell’s question.
Campbell learned that the daughter, Allison, lived in the city – though what city, for the name was never forthcoming. Exactly how old she was remained a mystery, as well, though Campbell figured the vague “mid-twenties” was the best guess. Other details were revealed more openly: the Reddingtons ran a casual bed-and-breakfast, with only a handful of visitors at a time. Their guests were usually businessmen and businesswomen that stayed for indefinite periods of time, eager for a break from work. Campbell noticed that Vera stressed how the guests feel rejuvenated after their stays. Just as Campbell began to wonder if he were in a counseling session, Vera stood and cleared the breakfast dishes, all the while chatting happily about an upcoming beach party.
Vera shushed Campbell’s offer of help, and instead practically pushed him out of the house. She insisted that he either explore the beach or take a short walk to the nearby main street of their small beach town. Campbell stood on the sand in front of the house, backed up several feet, and stared again. He knew it was definitely the featured magazine home, but with a few important changes. The window seats were present here and the paint a more agreeable shade of pink-tinged mocha that shifted hues depending upon the amount of sunlight. Crisp white trim added a clean, sharp look. It wasn’t exactly as pictured in the magazine. It was as he remembered.
He wasn’t sure which direction to go, so he followed the sand that felt drier and softer beneath his feet. He walked a short distance, stopping periodically to survey the houses. Everything had a sense of familiarity to him. Campbell would’ve equated the feeling to a memory from childhood, but he was certain he had never visited this place before. This place... what was the name of the town? No one uttered it and Campbell didn’t see a single sign.
He approached an area of beach where the sand interspersed with tufts of grass and several small trees, giving the look of a shabby park. He heard the waves crash, but he also heard a higher pitch, almost a tinny sound. He looked up at the trees, expecting to see a bird or animal. Instead, his eyes fell upon a set of minuscule wind chimes.
“Are these yours?” He heard the voice before he saw the young woman, sitting on the ground against the tree. She had dark blonde hair and wore a dress that fell just below her knees. A straw hat lay on the grass next to her.
“I’ve never been here before,” Campbell replied.
The girl smiled and craned her neck to look at the chimes. “I don’t know who left them.”
A gust of wind blew through the narrow park, causing the chimes to clang incessantly. “Of course,” she continued, “I’ll probably take them down before I leave. They may bother someone.”
She stood, lifting the chimes from the tree branch. She placed them gently against the bottom of the tree, so that they were unable to ring. “There. The next person can enjoy them if they choose.”
“Someone might steal them before then,” Campbell replied. He shrugged casually, but the girl turned to him with a confused expression on her face.
“Why do you say that?” she asked.
Campbell hesitated. He didn’t know whether he had offended her. “I hope no one takes them. This must be a safe town.”
The girl grinned, picked up her hat from the ground and put it on her head. “That’s right, you said you weren’t from around here. Tell me about yourself.”
“Well... I’m Campbell Jenkins. I suppose you could say I’m on vacation.”
“Vacation?” The girl’s eyes lit up. “Well, you’re probably staying...”
“With your parents,” Campbell finished. “Yes. You must be Allison.”
She turned to him and looked directly into his eyes. “How did you know that?”
“They said you were coming home today.”
She lowered her eyes, thought for a moment, then spoke. “But I could’ve been anyone sitting there...”
“You were just how I envisioned you.”
Allison seemed to like this, and she allowed Campbell to take her arm.
“Would you like me to show you around town?” Allison asked him. “It’s not far.”
Campbell was about to agree when he suddenly heard a loud, buzzing sound. He looked around, in an attempt to see where it came from. “What is that?” he asked.
“What?”
“That noise.”
Allison paused. “I don’t hear anything.”
Bzzz. The noise pierced Campbell’s brain, causing him to place both his hands against his temples. His head throbbed, but what hurt more was Campbell’s immense disappointment. He recognized the noise as his alarm clock, and realized that he was waking up from a vivid dream.
Campbell looked around his bedroom. He pulled his sheets over his head.
But Campbell never missed work, so after a few minutes spent pouting, Campbell showered, dressed and headed for the office. He was fairly glum as he plopped down in his desk chair. He glanced down at his desk to see what he had left there the previous evening. Patty’s magazine lay directly in the center of the desk.
Campbell was certain that he hadn’t brought the magazine into his office – he had, quite shamefully, left it in the cafeteria. Campbell slowly opened the magazine and gently flipped through the pages, making sure it was the same issue he had looked at yesterday. He paused when he came to the familiar house. Although the photographed house wasn’t exactly the same, the changes still bothered him and he couldn’t bear to look at the picture. He slammed the magazine shut and threw it into his trash can. Then, thinking better of it, he took out the magazine and marched through the office hallways until he reached Patty’s desk. She wasn’t there yet, so he tossed the magazine onto her desk and returned to his own office.