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11/01/2015 12:01 AM 

Interlude: Secrets of the Past

In the days that follow A Town Divided, Sheriff Leo Forrest seeks out Middletown's resident psychiatrist in the hopes that she can help him uncover the missing memories of his own past and to learn more about his own father, Trenton Forrest. As details emerge and truths are revealed, there is but one question that remains: What will Leo Forrest do next?

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Jan 27th 2024 - 11:50 AM

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{ Solomon, Black Rider, Christopher }

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eU0aaq5pjnQ 

Peripherally, Grace noted that both Solomon and Christopher turned towards the distant wall perhaps half a heartbeat after her. The unity of their focus was almost as though each possessed a sixth sense and on some level knew not only that something came, but something evil in nature. Perhaps most remarkable of all was the lack of surprise from the trio as shadow emerged into solid form, brandishing a wicked sword and plated gauntlets as though a nightmarish creature from the middle ages.

What little energy Grace had recovered quickly slipped away in the presence of this shadowed form, her grasp upon her husband tightening as though instinctively she knew that were she to fall unconscious, terrible things would happen. Desperately did she cling to wakefulness, scarcely able to summon the strength to aid either her friend or husband.

"Grace." Her name echoed through her mind, as though crossing great lengths of space and time and for the briefest of moments, she left the hospital room far behind...

-----

"The world is changed." The voice that spoke was feminine, echoed about the dim woods and was faintly familiar. The voice hearkened to her, as thought she had heard it her whole life yet never truly heard it. "I feel it in the water." Grace walked towards the sound that was accompanied by the soft trickle of water and gentle rustle of leaves upon forest floor. "I feel it in the earth. I smell it in the air." She was nearly upon the other woman, Grace could almost feel it within her very bones, yet her feet had become rooted to the ground where she paused, unable to move further, as though she could not face that which awaited her.

"Much that once was is lost, for none now live-" Grace's gaze was fixated upon the tall, slender female who stepped into view from behind the tree, a gasp tearing itself from her throat even as she moved to cover her mouth. "-who remember it."

The other woman, who looked identical to Grace save for the waist length hair smiled reassuringly at her, extending one hand towards her where, by chance, light caught something upon her finger, dragging Grace's attention. Acute was her sight, and easily did she discern the ring upon the middle finger, for it was the very same she had been given by her parents when she was naught more than a child.

"How did you..." Grace's voice failed her ever as she drifted closer to the ethereal being before her.

"This is Nenya, the Ring of Adamant. And we are its keeper."

"Nenya," Grace repeated the name that sounded foreign yet felt right. Beseechingly, she looked into her own reflection, half expecting her to disappear into nothingness. "How is this possible? Who are you?"

The other woman smiled and laughed gently to herself, yet there was no sense of mockery, only enduring patience and understanding, as though she had all the time in the world. Grace felt warmth spill up her hand as the reflection gently grasped her hand and placed an object within. Her gaze dropped to see a clear vial with a clear liquid that almost shimmered with pure starlight, distantly aware of what the other Grace was saying.

"I give you the light of Eärendil, our most beloved star. May it be a light for you in dark places, when all other lights go out."

"In dark places?" Grace echoed, her fingers curling around the vial. "I don't under..." Her voice trailed off, the ethereal woman having vanished so that now only darkness swirled about her. Though she had no cause to be fearful, she felt so now, as though malice and wickedness had been given form in the dark. A deep, rattling breath and piercing cold washed over her body so that she clutched the vial to her chest where it immediately glowed with warmth and light...

-----

Something glowed with warmth beneath the blankets at her side, and without hesitation, Grace's hand slipped beneath to withdraw the warm object. As though guided by another, Grace slipped from between the sheets so that her bare feet found the cold tile, padding forward towards the shadowed nightmare. The object in her hand, something she could only describe as a glass vial with a clear liquid that shone bright as a star, pulsed. On cue, she raised the object towards the wraith, words falling from her lips with forceful purpose.

"Aiya Eärendil Elenion Ancalima!" The light from within the vial glowed so brightly that shadows were cast behind Grace, Chris, and Solomon, the creature opposite them cringing away from the light. Yet Grace moved closer still, vial in hand. "You have no place here. You are nameless, faceless, formless." The words felt faintly familiar, as though she had spoken them once before, yet she held no recollection of having ever said them before. "Go back to the void from when you came."

A blinding flash of light emanated from the vial and, seemingly, Grace herself, momentarily blinding Christopher and Solomon. Unknowingly, the light moved through the walls of the hospital itself, pushing out that which harbored darkness. When they were able to see once more, the hooded shadow had disappeared and Grace had crumpled to the floor, unconscious once more.

As soon as Christopher could see again and spied the crumpled form of his wife, he went immediately to her side, rolling her gently into his arms. "Grace!" One strong hand cradled her face towards him, emotion besieging him as she remained unresponsive. Desperation and anger threatened to claw at him, yet he struggled to prevail against both. "Solomon, please go alert a nurse."

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Jan 27th 2024 - 11:50 AM

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ioz8lP7vsws 

It never seemed to end, the endless stack of reports that were neatly piled upon his desk. They lacked what they needed in Middle Town when it came to investigating the depth of crimes that had been committed in this sleepy, dead end world that they lived in. They needed forensics and they needed DNA testing, they needed so much more that would not come, and for all of his trying to get these items to the bigger cities that could aid them in their investigation, he was met with walls upon walls of frustration. Sure, he'd send out the samples, but they always came back with the same amount of knowledge each time.

He swiped his finger over one such report that had been sent to him this very day. He'd sent off an article of clothing for DNA cross matching, hair fibers, residue, anything that the larger, well funded populace had to offer their citizens. And what he was met with was less than heartening. His eyes roved over the multiple letters.

' Inconclusive. ' 'Insufficient sample available'; 'Multiple male DNA patterns recognized. '

One in particular though that caught his eye was the one that was in front of him now. That the DNA evidence on one of the victims was inconclusive or unrecognizable, and it suggested further testing. Pending further investigation. He tapped the end of his pen upon the parchment and read this again. He knew where the sample had came from, because the victim was recovering in the hospital now. Was he not who he said he was..? The last thing anyone wanted in this town were the Feds to come in and overhaul their investigation. Then again, at the same time, they would probably see it as small town incompetence, and write them off .. as they always did. Even the phone calls to some of the colleagues he'd established in the larger stories weren't lining up like they should. It was terribly frustrating and with that he tossed his pen onto the desk, leaning his elbows on the edge of it. His face came to rest against his palms as he rested the balls of them against his eyes, for just a moment. The silence stung his ears, save the ticking of the clock upon the wall, and he exhaled. Maybe, it was time for a break. A little time away from this case and the faces of those victims might do him some good. Of course, he couldn't stray from it for long, even if he wanted to, he just needed to get his head space clear.

With this in mind, he leaned back into the leather chair that sat at his desk, but when he went to stretch his right leg out, the sound of metal rolling upon the ground caught his attention.

His calf had bumped into a thermos that was resting there and he blinked, rubbing his right eye a touch blearily, glancing over the arm of his chair. The silver cup rolled off of it and toward his boot, and he twisted his lips. A huff of frustrated air passed from his lips as he pushed the chair back with his left leg and reached down to grasp onto the thermos stopping it from rolling about. He lifted it from the floor and sat it upon the edge of his desk, leaning back once more to study it.

There were far too many responsibilities that had fallen onto his broad shoulders and they equated the weight of every beating heart in this town. The safety of each one of them was up to him, but ..he'd blinked. People died. People got hurt. And there was no excuse for the loss of a life, or the mending of broken fences. One drop of blood had been too many. He blinked at the stack of investigative papers, the white and black typesetting on the pages blurring in his line of vision. He was tired, too tired. He then drifted his gaze back to the thermos that was on his desk, the cool silver reflected the dim light of his desk, and he smirked. There truly was no rest for the wicked.

He shrugged to himself, it was what it was. Settling the phone to the side, he scooted a little closer to the desk, and drawled a yellow legal pad closer to himself once more. The diary of the devilry in the details he'd been working on over studious hours. As he matched the evidence to the letters and what had been rebuked by the lab, and who the technicians were that had sent the reports. He decided to do a little cross matching of his own. There was a lab somewhere in this Country that would have a better ability to deal with these types of cases. So it was a mixture of pen to paper work and investigating over the net. Multitudes of letters seeking response from a few of the forensic powerhouses he had read about. Until the hours had gotten away from him, so very much so, that the earbuds from his Ipod in, if she had answered him, he'd missed it. And it seemed another night was wasted, because a glance at the clock on his desk revealed the turning of another hour. Six twenty two am.

His routine patrol started at nine, he'd meant to go home. Spend some time with Tara and his Father .. or .. just be at home with them. And then he'd gotten caught up in the evidence again. Tugging the headphones from his ears, he rolled them up and placed them in his pocket with the Ipod. Standing up from his seat, he stretched out his back with a grimace, then lifted his hands over his head in a stretch, rolling his neck a little to work out the stiffness that had settled there. With a sigh, he closed the laptop cover and gathered up the stack of papers on his desk. A brown accordion type binder was there and he placed the papers away. They each had a place of methodical picking.. and this took a few minutes too. About forty eight of those minutes. He glanced at the clock once more as he stepped by it, coming from the bathroom, while drying his hands. Seven o-one. Well two hours was better than no hours, he figured, and the weariness was getting to him. He was grateful for the couch that he'd agreed to have placed in the office, without it .. he might never sleep these days.

With a deep sigh, he gathered up his heavy winter coat and bundled it for a makeshift pillow. Using the arm of the couch for a prop to hold up said pillow, he laid down on the leather couch with a low groan, then a heavy sigh. It was quiet here and only the sounds of the birds chirping, and the wind howling past the window pane in gentle gusts caught his attention. The rhythmic humming of the small ceiling fan caused his eyes to grow heavier by the minute. And it wasn't long before he found himself drifting into a sound sleep. That sound sleep turned into a deeper one as half an hour passed. His left arm was poised behind his head, his chin turned toward it, nestled upon his black coat. The other was draped across his chest and the heel of his right booted foot was resting on the opposite end of the couch, his other leg hanging off of the edge, positioned upon the floor. He had finally found dreamless sleep, even if it did happen too brief.

His body ached and he hadn't realized how tired he was until his head fell onto the bunched up material of his comfortable winter's coat and rested his head upon it. It was like all of his muscles sighed out with a signing twinge of relief, not to mention the dull ache that had taken up residence in his forehead, and the tightness in his neck. All of this seemed to be alleviated when he settled in to finally rest. His body was ready. Now it was up to his mind to let it relax as it should, and for several long moments he struggled with this reality. No matter how much he stared at the ceiling fan that was swirling rapidly over his head, his mind still was weighted with troublesome thoughts. Not only the details of the case, but family issues that clouded over in times like this, those little nuances that would nag you into mental instability. And when one was in mental turmoil they were of no use to anyone, least of all themselves, and so it was that he attempted to shut out those nagging little thoughts.

The whirling white noise of the fan caught his attention and he was able to focus upon it instead. The office wasn't particularly too hot nor too cold, and he was still for a moment. And a moment was all that it took, a steady sigh escaped from the depths of his chest, and he had fallen into sleep. It was a deep and hard sleep, the kind where you fall into a dream nearly immediately..

**

'He's waking up....'

The gruff voice of a man, nearly a guttural tone filled the shells of his ears, and squinted. The smell of molten and scorched wood filled his nostrils. It smelled like sawdust and acetone.

'The last thing we need is some screaming brat giving us away. Knock his ass out again.'

He grew really still then, willing his heart to beat slower, willing his lungs to not burn with the air that he was taking in. He felt the restraints around his hands and his ankles. His head was hurting and he felt nauseated and the back of his head was throbbing. For a minute, he even thought he tasted copper, but with his strong focus it worked. He felt the calloused hand of one of them grab his face roughly.

'Wait. No, maybe I was wrong. The brat's still out cold.'

He chortled the words out, but it was the other one that he heard move then.

“ What do you think you are? Some sort of expert on rich punks? Get outta my way.. “

A few rough and loud shoves and scuffles were heard and he drank in a slow breath, trying to appear as if he were asleep still. As if he didn't hear everything that they were saying over him. With another sound of flesh hitting flesh and then a meaty thud to the floor, the sound of breathing filled his ears. The foul scent of putrid breath touched his nostrils and he tried not to flinch or to move. The warmth of the body could be felt closer to his own and even as hard as he tried to keep it down the blood threading through his veins wouldn't slow down. He knew that whoever it was was resting over him now, looking at him closely, almost as if he could see him through his closed eyelids.

The hand of the man came down atop of his chest and he was feeling his heart rate, Leo knew it. The clicking sound of a tongue against the top of the brute's mouth grated on his nerves, but what came next was the dead give away. A stinging pain wrought through his body and through the dazed and blurred vision, he gasped. Immediately, he tried to lift his restrained hand to put it to his cheek, but it only tugged against the chains. Chortling laughter was heard as the one man gloated to the other.

“What did I tell you? Faking little punk! I knew he was awake, I could smell his fear! Lookie here... kids only understand one thing. A good ass beating.. “

His eyes rolled slowly toward the man that was still leaning over him. He might not be able to move his hands or his legs, but he was able to move his head. With all of the strength he could muster he rushed his head forward and slammed his forehead into the man's nose. This warranted a howl of pain from the captor as he staggered, a fluent stream of curses flooding his ears. And in that moment he knew it probably wasn't a good idea.

“ Fricken HELL! “ The man roared with a snarl and turned on Leo once more, “ Ima kill that little shit! “

The sound of two men scuffling again caught his ears and he struggled to focus on the blurred images that were wrestling with one another near to him.

'Don't be stupid! We need him alive! If he's hurt up too bad or dead we ain't gettin' jack! The boss told you that! So sit your ass down! '

He caught the blurred images of the one man shoving the other off of him, “ Yeah.. yeah.. “ With a hefty snort he glared at the kid, parts of his features came into view, clearer view, but he stared at him. “ You're lucky your daddy's rich or I woulda killed you and fed you to my dogs, boy...and I might still. If he doesn't show up in the next six hours .. you'll be puppy chow..”

Pain.. that's what he remembered and it came right upon his left shoulder as the needle was slammed down into it.

**

With a startled gasp his eyes shot open and he was on his feet. His muscles ached and he exhaled a shaking breath, glancing about the office skittishly. Good thing his gun wasn't on his hip... but there was no one there, nobody but him. A frown slid over his lips and he glanced down to the phone that was on the charger on his desk. He reached forward and grasped onto the device, flipping through the numbers. His finger paused atop of an all too familiar number.

'Dad' ..

He scowled then, knowing what his Father would say, they couldn't relive these memories anymore than he had.. or these nightmares. He didn't know which was which. Turning faintly, he grasped onto some file folders and headed to the front doors, slipping his phone into his pocket. He needed to talk to her anyway... she was on the Town Council. Mr. Bowman... well, that issue still needed to be dealt with.

Within ten minutes he was outside of her office door, staring at it as if it were some manner of venomous serpent, as if he entered the course of reality might be changed. He was usually the silent type, carrying your own burdens on your own type, learning this from his Father.. only he needed to tell someone.

Pushing the door open, he glanced around, closing it behind him... “ Miss Grace..? Are you in..?“

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Jan 27th 2024 - 11:49 AM

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"Who are you?" Critically was her brow curved, cerulean hues gazing upon a face that was identical to her own so that it was as though Grace peered into a mirror rather than at another person. The other woman smiled knowingly, a glint of mischief in her piercing gaze, as though she expected Grace to know the answer. And on some level, Grace knew...or thought she knew. The other woman was Grace herself. In another life. But that wasn't quite it. Though her garb and accent were as though from another time period altogether, there was something else to the curiosity that was posed before her now, something Grace had been struggling to place her finger on but had, thus far, failed to do so.

"Come," was all the other woman said before turning and gliding effortlessly through the forest. Grace sighed and started after the other woman, her own efforts no doubt appearing clumsy by comparison. They walked for a time through a forest of trees that, upon their second meeting, had awed Grace into silence. Massive didn't even begin to describe the trees here. The diameter of these trees, as best as she was able to judge, were at least twenty feet, if not greater, and they stretched far above beyond even her own keen sight. And if their size was not enough, the sheer beauty was mind boggling. With a smooth, silver-grey bark and silver leaves and golden flowers...it was breathtakingly beautiful.

'Do you live here?' Grace had asked the last time she had found herself here with the other woman.

The answer she gave in return was as cryptic as any answer she gave. 'I did.'

When Grace had inquired as to why she had left, a poignant look was given in return, an underlying truth held just below sapphire hues that Grace knew she ought to understand but for whatever reason, could not.

"Where are we going this time?" Grace asked, expecting either another cryptic answer or none whatsoever.

"To the heart of the Galadhrim and the Mirror within." Innately, Grace knew this was a straightforward answer and instinctively, felt as though it ought to be something she should understand, yet as with all else that had occurred in the past week, it was just beyond her comprehension. Instead, she fell silent and trailed behind the woman in white. How much time passed, Grace knew not for within this forest, time seemed to stand still. It wasn't until much later that Grace began to take note once more of their surroundings. The forest floor had faded away so that they now appeared to be on a path worn by the frequent passage of people. Music drifted down from above, voices raised in a song in a language that, like the other woman, was foreign yet achingly familiar Grace felt as though she ought to know and understand what was being sung. Sapphire hues turned towards the great trees once more and to her surprise, Grace noted how they seemed to glow with an inner light for this deep in the forest, not a single ray of sunlight could pierce the canopy far above. As if this was not enough, Grace also took note of the stair ways that wrapped around the trees, coming to larger platforms wherein people could gather together, perhaps even live.

"We are almost there, Grace."

Grace continued after the past version of herself, her own pace slower as she was continually haunted by the familiarity of this place, yet it wasn't until she had come to the top of a small, stone stairwell that she halted altogether, her gaze drawn immediately towards a stone basin that nested near the roots of a great tree. The long haired version of Grace had glided down the stairs and moved towards the tree, slender digits grasping the handle of a narrow yet tall silver vase which she immediately filled with water from the nearby stream before turning to face Grace once more.

"Will you look into the mirror?"

The words were haughtily familiar, as though Grace herself had said them and not this past life version. In her mind, she could hear another voice ask, 'What would I see?' Yet Grace knew the answer and, by chance, found herself murmuring softly, "Even the wisest cannot tell. For the mirror shows many things."

Grace's gaze slid from the other woman to the basin and, without thought, began to descend the stairs. Whatever this mirror was, Grace felt that this was where she would begin to get the answers she had been seeking for so long...

"Miss Grace...?" Grace paused, just a few feet away from the basin. "Are you in...?"

-----

Sapphire hues blinked open as Grace awoke from her dream, lifting her head off the desk to look around. For several heartbeats, she was confused and almost felt as though she were in a foreign land and this place was not where she belonged. Yet upon hearing the jingle of the bell as the front door shut, Grace realized she had dozed off and dreamed of the fantasy land depicted in that story book Solomon had kindly shared with her. As delightful of a read the book had been, it certainly did give her rather vivid and peculiar dreams of late. Rising to her feet, Grace stretched her arms overhead before crossing her office and entering the wait lobby where she was Leo Forrest lingering by the door, several file folders in hand. A gentle and warm smile lit her face immediately, her sluggish mind now working quickly to recall the real reality of this world.

"Good morning, Leo." While he might not agree that it was a good morning, judging by the dark circles that ringed his eyes and the hollow look in his eyes, Grace would still at least offer him the courtesy of pleasantries. Seeing him before her left her in a rather peculiar position. While she did not recall seeing his name on the schedule of patients she was to see today, much to the chagrin of Christopher, Grace could not help but wonder in which capacity Leo had come to her office this morning: personal or professional. It had been years since he had sought out her aid on a personal level and given recent events she would readily help him once more if that was what he wished. Yet there was also a professional reason for him to be here. There was but one way to find out.

"How can I help you?"

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Jan 27th 2024 - 11:48 AM

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fs_hDQANFjU 

The drive to Grace’s office hadn’t been comforting and he had made it in almost a dazed state. When he arrived, he felt entirely off kilter – as if the world around him were spinning on some delicate axis that had been knocked about by a storm that was not foreseeable. He opened the door to her office and announced himself, then waited. It was hauntingly quiet here, as if some strange magic had swept around the area. It almost felt as if the floor were moving a little bit beneath his feet, but he equated this with the weariness that he was feeling.

So much had happened in the span of time that he couldn’t quite recall. Something was ever changing in this place, but it was almost as if you were walking atop of a cave that you could feel underneath you, but never find. One wrong step would send you careening to the depths below. It seemed that there was something in the water that kept the people of this town from enjoying any sort of peace. Lately, he was right in the thick of it, which was no surprise considering his position in the town's justice system. This is how he felt right now, but he couldn’t let it stop him from completing his work. He had questions that needed answered. More than just those about his victims, he needed answers about himself.

Grace stepped to the doorway and offered him a smile and he exhaled a pent up a breath. At least she was safe. Something within the depths of him made him fret about that for a second, as quiet as the office had been before his arrival. He studied her for a long moment, then nodded to her, returning the pleasantries.

“Good morning. I was wondering if I could spare a little bit of her time. I have some questions about a few of the people here in town.”

He knew that she would have the answers, or at the very least, she might present him with some new questions to ask to explore another route. He knew that she was a busy woman from time to time, but he appeared to have caught her on one of the days where she hadn’t been overwhelmed.

There was a lot more than that though, recurring nightmares were plaguing him and a bout of wicked headaches, but he had to be careful with what he said. Especially to someone that was on the town council. Though Grace had known him since birth, it seemed like – they had a few sessions after his mother died, when he was younger, but he couldn’t really recall those. He blinked for a moment and glanced down to the folder that was in his hand. His lips twisted for a second as he considered what had really brought him here.

Couldn’t he have gone to anyone else to ask about the violence in the town? He knew that, on some level, she had been friends with his father for a long time. He cleared his throat and then looked up at her, studying her carefully.

“Actually, if you don’t mind.” He began, “I’ve been having some strange dreams lately. I was wondering if I could speak with you about them.”

What else could he say to her? There was a lot more, but as he stood there and studied her, he had this strange feeling that she knew more than she was telling him. He felt a strange comfort crawl over him then and he exhaled softly. The entire world around him felt as if it were crumbling around him, if not moving in some strange surreptitious manner that caused him to always feel slightly queasy. It was almost a strange desperation that you didn’t belong here and that something was missing. If anyone could help him sort out these feelings after his kidnapping and bout with amnesia, surely it would be her.

Or at least, he hoped that it would be. This wasn’t a discussion that he particularly wanted to have with his father, and he couldn’t have it with his sister. He didn’t know if Grace would understand, but he was almost certain after dealing with the town thief, Gregory – or Sam, Sam -- or Gregory was a menace to the peace of the town and often ran around the streets yelling about how something had been stolen from him. Some piece of jewelry or this or that, but he didn't know who had done it or had no proof that the jewelry existed at all. So he often made a nuisance of himself. He was certain that if Grace could deal with whoever he happened to be that day and his songs about fishes –that she would be overly qualified to hear about his messed up dreams.

He shook his head slightly, getting lost in his own thoughts, “I can make an appointment if it’s more convenient for you.”

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Jan 27th 2024 - 11:48 AM

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AFoNnaI1eaY 

Warm, gentle, and patient was her demeanor as Leo regarded Grace carefully, as though he were almost reconsidering coming to her. Though he hid it well, the turmoil within the depths of his heart was as plain to her as words printed upon a piece of paper. Their quiet home of Middletown had begun to stir - not all of it pleasant. Having known not only Leo most of his life but also his father, Trenton Forrest, Grace was keenly aware of how they shouldered the responsibilities that fell upon them.

Cerulean hues twinkled with faint amusement as Leo made the purpose of his visit to her clear. As Middletown's resident psychologist, she knew many of its citizens better than they knew themselves or even each other. Yet the laws of doctor-patient confidentiality ensured that what was spoken to her was kept in the strictest of confidences - something that Leo Forrest, a former patient of Grace herself, ought to have known all too well. All the same, doctor-patient confidentiality did not prohibit or prevent Grace Goldbloom for being able to offer insight into the hearts and motivations of those who came to her.

"You would be in luck this morning. My first patient isn't due to arrive for an hour. Please, do come in," Grace replied, opening the door to her office and holding it open for Leo to enter. She gestured to any of the seating options available to him before closing the door gently. "Can I get you anything to drink? Water, coffee, juice?"

Retrieving the mug from her desk, Grace went to the coffee pot and poured herself a fresh cup as well as whatever Leo might have asked for. With beverages in hand, she took a seat in a plush chair near Leo and took a sip of her coffee before settling it on the coffee table before them.

Before she could inquire as to whom Leo wished to better understand, the young man had reconsidered the purpose of his visit and requested a more personal than professional visit. Her expression softened with sympathy as he spoke of strange dreams. Grace had a wealth of personal experience in the department of strange dreams. Beyond her own, readily could she recall the dreams of Leo's own youth that had plagued him in years past.

Her tone was more somber, more serious as she replied. "I do not mind at all." Reflexively, she reached for her pen and notepad. Though she hardly required such things, patients often felt better when they believed she was taking notes of their session. "You can tell me as much or as little as you like, Leo. Everything we discuss stays in confidence between you and I."

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Jan 27th 2024 - 11:48 AM

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https://youtu.be/H5UlWyZvCPs 

It wasn’t comfortable for him to be in this position or in this office, actually but he had to try to get some rest or to make sense of some of the madness that was roaring around in his head. She had offered him a drink and a politely offered him a seat, which he took only because it was the polite thing to do, of course. He pursed his lips for a moment and considered his options as she grabbed a pen and paper. He arched a brow and then settled into his seat, clearing his throat.

“I’m not sure that you can help me.” He began, feeling a little less comfortable with the woman than he should, considering that they had an ongoing relationship as a patient and doctor for quite some time. He exhaled softly through half parted lips. “I have no doubt that news of my … of my having gone missing have circulated around town already. Especially, considering Dr. Nightengale, Edward that is, looked after me for a little bit.”

He thought about that for a moment and how little that he actually remembered of those moments in the days after he had been returned. He exhaled a slow breath and arched a brow, “Before you say it, I already know. Traumatic situations cause some memory loss, but this is different.” He said, focusing on her, “I don’t remember anything.”

He shook his head slightly, “I don’t remember the car wreck. I don’t remember who was chasing me to begin with. I don’t remember the night it happened. All that I remember is getting up and going to work. That’s it.”

He cleared his throat a little bit, tapping his finger against the edge of the drink that she had brought in for him. He watched the ripples of liquid that were moving with the motion. “I’ve gotten a clean bill of health, so it’s not like I was hit in the head too hard or something.”

He lifted his eyes then, staring at her for a moment, as if she knew the answer to the very next question that he was going to ask her. “I’ve had this happen once before, remember? I don’t remember anything. It almost seems deliberate.”

Leaning back into his seat, he exhaled softly, “Only I didn’t. I am remembering more and more from my past and what happened with my mother.”

He dared not reflect on that too much, but those were the nightmares that were keeping him awake at night, so to speak. At least some of them. The other dreams were about a land that he couldn’t quite remember when he woke up.

One Last Time RPG

 

Jan 27th 2024 - 11:47 AM

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Indeed, towns as small as Middletown were often guilty of that which Leo spoke of. Secrets were rarely kept for long especially when the details were found to be of particular interest. Moreover was the simple fact that not only was he familiar to her and his father a dear friend of her own, but the town's go-to resident physician was her son-in-law. Readily did she understand his hesitation and doubt. In spite of this, Grace inherently knew this was not the true reason for his shaken faith.

Patiently did she wait for him to regale her with what troubled him most about his latest disappearance. Unease settled upon her stomach as he recounted having no memory of the car wreck, who chased him, who was in possession of him, or how he escaped. While it was true that trauma, both small and great, often induced a degree of memory loss, to remember nothing was quite unusual.

An inclination of her head was given, an acknowledgement of her own remembrance as he mentioned the last time such amnesia plagued him. The nature of his amnesia then as well as now was suspicious indeed. As before, there were no traces of drugs in his blood that would have explained his memory loss. While there had been trauma experienced, there was no trace of sufficient trauma to result in amnesia that extended as far as it did. All other means to deliberately cause amnesia would have left obvious marks upon him that could not be hidden in so short a time as he had been missing.

Regretfully, he was correct with his first statement of her inability to help and she signed softly for it. The only logical and reasonable explanation was that Leo had been exposed to something powerful enough to induce short-term memory loss, something that should be known to all in the medical profession but somehow, after more than twenty plus years, remained an enigma. The only way they might begin to unravel this mystery was to collect additional data.

Intrigued by his confession of remembering more of his past and of what happened to his mother, Grace poised her pen above the notepad and began to take notes as he spoke.

"I do recall something similar to this happening to you once before, long ago," she replied truthfully. "The memories that you are beginning to recall, did this begin before or after this latest incident? Do you feel comfortable enough to share what you are remembering, however fragmented or unusual it may seem?"

One Last Time RPG

 

Jan 27th 2024 - 11:47 AM

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He settled back into the seat that Grace offered him and peered at her from atop of the glass that she had given him. He set it to the side on a table there and narrowed his eyes slightly, considering what she was asking of him. To tell her what the nightmares were.

“It’s simple and complex. I feel more than I remember. However, the dreams are of a young girl. I can barely make out the frame of her face, but I remember her voice. She was sitting with me in a dark room and I was on a table of some kind. She kept sneaking me food and water.”

He shook his head slightly, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He smirked a little bit. “The worst part about it is, I have this feeling in the pit of my stomach that she’s somewhere still and that she needs my help. Only how am I supposed to help her if I don’t know where she .. or even who she is?”

Closing his eyes for a moment, he strained to remember details of what he had forgotten. What was right there, but just out of reach. He sighed, “Don’t write me off as being crazy, but there’s other dreams too.” He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts, “Only in bits and pieces. There’s this Kingdom. It’s built within the side of a mountain. Wood and stone. I can see myself walking across this arched bridge to get into it and through those doors, the river runs beyond it. As far as the eye can see there’s nothing but trees and peace. Only in this Kingdom, however. On the outside, there’s a great sickness. Some manner of curse that creeps inside, closer to the borders. Large spiders …”

A slow shiver drew over his spine and a wave of nausea touched him. He furrowed his brows, looking through Grace at this point, not directly at her. “.. the spiders they have woven webs around a great deal of the trees that is not protected by this strange magic. They devour everything that moves there. Always hunting, but there’s a sickness upon the woods, upon the trees. They’re looking for something that’s hidden inside of that Kingdom, but every single time I go to move through those doors, I wake up.”

He blinked, glancing back to her, “It’s almost like I should know where this place is, even if it were real. I should know it.”

He sighed for a moment and sank back into his seat, “It’s almost like it’s home, you know? It feels more home to me than the house itself does. Like if I could just get there then everything would fall into place. I would remember everything I’ve forgotten.”

Looking up at her, he arched a brow, “Does that make sense?”

One Last Time RPG

 

Jan 27th 2024 - 11:46 AM

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Attentively did Grace listen to Leo, her mind trying to help him put the pieces together. Was he dreaming, remembering, or mixing the two together? Was this the resurgence of guilt over his departure from his childhood home so many years ago and his inability to properly bid his only friend Mary farewell? Or was this a real memory? If the former, she could guide him however the latter...the latter made her stomach churn with unease. For a young girl to be sneaking something as trivial as food and water into a dark room where presumably Leo was kept against his will...the implications were quite disturbing. If she were real, even if she held a role in his escape, a dark fate was laid bare before her.

Grace leaned forward to retrieve her cup of coffee, taking a sip before posing her next question to Leo. "You said you can remember her voice. Do you remember what she said to you or what you talked about?" Lifting the cup to her lips, she took another sip of coffee before settling the cup back on the table.

As Leo continued on to recount another dream of his, she was struck by the details he was providing. Setting down the notepad and pen, she rose and went to her desk as he continued speaking. There, still laid open from when she had dozed off, was the book she had borrowed from Solomon. There was a picture she had seen that almost matched exactly...it was at the beginning of the book, was it no? Leafing through the pages, Grace quickly found what Leo was describing. Lifting the book from her desk, she carried it over to Leo, setting it down to show him what he was dreaming of.

"The place you are describing sounds an awful lot like this place here," she gestured to the book, indicating he could take a look if he so desired. "The author of this fictional tale calls the land you speak of 'Mirkwood', though it was not always so. Before the shadow, it was known as Greenwood the Great."

A soft sigh passed her lips, her brow creased slightly as he spoke of it feeling like home, more than the house he lived in. All too well did she understand his sentiment for upon her own reading and the discovery of land called Lothlórien did she find a sense of belonging, a sense of home. Of course, once Grace had this little revelation revealed to her, she had begun to experience her own vivid dreams, dreams that felt as though she were trying to piece together a puzzle only she had pieces from two different sets.

"It does make sense," she conceded softly after several moments. "It is a feeling I understand all too well, one that has oddly enough become apparent only in recent days. Alas, I dream of a fantasy world a creative mind wrote of."

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Jan 27th 2024 - 11:45 AM

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She asked him the hard questions and he leaned back into his seat. Brushing a hand upward and through his hair he considered what the young woman in the dream had said to him. “She told me about her family. That she was living with her Uncle. Mostly she comforted me in a place where there was no comfort. She cared for me like it was the most natural thing in the world.”

He furrowed his brows, leaning forward to look to Grace for a moment, studying the concerned features on the woman’s face. He nodded his head to her, because he was just as worried as she was about this person – if they existed. And he truly believed in his heart that she did. Somewhere out there, she was waiting for him to come and save her and he couldn’t remember who she was.

“I promised her that we would get out of there.” He shook his head, “That my dad could save her.” A dark scowl swept over his features, the guilt eating away at him, “I was a kid then and I still haven’t been able to keep that promise and she’s out there somewhere, still suffering.”

He told her then about his dream and the woodland forest with the spiders. He watched a light of recognition flicker through her eyes and she stood up and moved. Walking toward the desk, she picked up a book and brought it back to him. Settling it onto the table, he glanced at her, then back to the book before he reached out and took it from her grasp. She said Mirkwood and his blood ran cold for a second, then a swell of emotion rushed forward through his veins. He felt it expand in his chest and outward and another slow breath was exhaled.

Reaching down, he did just that. He took the book and lifted it, reading through the pages. He devoured each word and she was right, it was the very same. The familiarity washed through him like it was a warm blanket. He belonged there, he could feel it in his veins. He continued forward with his reading, searching for the names of those characters that lived there – of the descriptions. Before he could find one though, she spoke that she had been having similar dreams. He looked up from the book, his finger keeping his place on the page.

“You have?” He asked of her, confusion, then concern etching its way over his brow, “I have never read this book before, Ms. Grace. How is that possible?”

Looking back down to the pages on the book, he saw a few names then. Legolas. Fire swept out through the tips of his fingers and he repeated the name, “Legolas.” A spark of something within the depths of him took hold. It was almost like wearing a comfortable coat, one that had kept you warm in the storm – of finding something that had been lost.

“Are you able to do hypnosis?” He asked to her rather suddenly, “Is it possible that would help, if you could?”
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