Page 4 of The Great and Terrible

Guess my best bet was to start walking. Surely I’d come upon a disaster relief team, searching for survivors. If not a team, a good samaritan. Someone would let me use their phone and give me a ride.

The sooner I got started, the better. I wasn’t sure how much energy remained in my battery.

Ignoring my worsening sickness, I clutched my injured wrist to my chest, lumbered to unsteady feet, and tripped toward the exit. Along the way, I passed a broken mirror. Enough glass remained to reveal my condition. Tendrils of dark hair had pulled from the confines of my pigtails, showcasing an angry cut on my brow. Hazel eyes glazed with discomfort. Crimson spots stained my ripped dress. Even the silver slippers had taken a beating, many of the sequins missing.

I stumbled outside. Sunlight glowed, and a warm breeze wafted, reminding me of a perfect summer morning.

Summer? I skidded to a halt, frowned. What had happened to the bite of winter?

Confusion hammered me as I looked around. This wasn’t the chapel’s parking lot. Or any place I recognized. A vibrant field of colorful hydrangeas, peonies, and tulips encircled me. Their sweet scents saturated my shallow inhalations. Behind the exquisite garden, a row of cherry blossoms and wisteria formed arching walkways that led to rolling hills covered in creeping red thyme. Bees and butterflies danced in the air.

I gasped when multiple flowers straightened by the stem, opened their petals, revealing teeth-like edges, and chomped on the insects.

Okay, Imustbe hallucinating. Guess I needed medical assistance for a concussion as well as a broken wrist. I cringed. Considering I had no insurance, I might be better off doctoring myself at the farm.

Which direction should I go? I examined the rest of the scenery. A beaten dirt path stretched and curved, cutting through the flower field, breaking up the sea of macabre beauty.But… Where was the paved road? The billboards? The mile markers? The lights and intersections? They weren’t just decimated by the storm; they were missing all together, no sign of them remaining. It was as if the wild winds had transported me somewhere outside of the small, wintry Kansas town.

Impossible! So where was I? I stumbled forward and turned to scrutinize the area behind the chapel. My eyes widened. An eerie forest stretched, shadows dancing with light, highlighting twirling dust motes. Misshapen trees produced gnarled roots that grew upward and curled at the end, resembling wooden lollipops. Small birds with the most exquisite rainbow feathers perched atop the swirls, each watching me with beady eyes.

In unison, every bird opened a third eye. Chills skittered down the ridges of my spine.Just another hallucination. Afraid to look away from my audience, I slowly backed up. A brightglint drew my attention to the chapel’s foundation. The reflection of sunlight off my phone?

Forget the unsettling three-eyed birds. I hurried over, only to deflate with disappointment. Not a smart device, after all, but a pair of boots with metal toes.

Wait. Those boots were attached to a pair of feet, which were attached to a pair of legs which were attached to hips attached to a torso buried under the house. Thick rivers of crimson flowed, coating the grass.

Realization stole my breath. The chapel had landed on top of a human being. Hadkilleda human being. A man. Almost like Dor—no! Not going there. A manic laugh burst from me anyway, the thought refusing to dissipate.Fantastical land…

No, no, no. If not concussed and seeing things, I probably laid in a coma on life support, the synapses in my brain misfiring.

This is real, part of me whispered. My pain and emotions certainly were. Did the poor man have a family waiting for his safe return?

I stumbled backward, shaking my head. I couldn’t stay here. Couldn’t deal with this development right now.

Leaving the chapel, the birds, and the body behind, I hurried to the dirt path. If nothing else, the road led to a different location. The flowers seemed to clock my every motion, moving with me. I ignored them, continuing forward.Seeing things. Only seeing things.

Hours passed, one bleeding into another, yet I saw no cars, buildings, or people. I could only motor on, and on, and on as mounting heat zapped what little of my strength remained. My legs began to shake, and my pain worsened. Muscles protested. Never had my feet felt heavier.

Maybe I had made the wrong decision, but it didn’t matter now. Turning around and heading back would do no good. I’d come too far.

I smacked chapped lips. If I didn’t find water soon, I might collapse or—My ears twitched. A noise. Familiar. Voices! Hope bubbled from a well of relief, and I whimpered. With my good hand, I rubbed the grit from my eyes. Blurry sight cleared, revealing a cluster of log cabins and a multitude of people.

A burst of energy propelled me onward, quickening my pace. My tongue moistened as various scents registered, giving me a much-appreciated respite from the dryness. I detected savory spices, sweet herbs, citrus fruit, and sugary treats.

When I reached the masses, however, a greater tide of confusion rushed in. The log cabins were actually pergolas and cabanas, with a maze of tables weaved around them, where vendors hawked their wares. Everything from food, to fabric, to glassware. Declarations rang out.

“Get your next substitute here! My prices aren’t the worst!”

“Hurt? My healing elixir is almost as good asserpens-rosa!”

“Eat my meat pies on the go. Only two people have gotten sick so far!”

My brow wrinkled. I’d stumbled across some sort of old-world marketplace where everyone spoke with an English accent. Or maybe a movie set. Every woman wore a dress, though most were plain frocks. A handful stunned in elaborate ballgowns that boasted fine fabrics and hand sewn jewels. The men were similarly categorized. Most sported modest shirts and loose trousers, but some paraded around in bright velvet suits with all the bells and whistles. While the simply attired citizens remained quiet, the wealthier ones chatted happily with their companions and waited near horse-drawn carts.

I did a double take. Those horses. Their owners must have dyed their fur. There wasn’t a white, brown, or black one inthe bunch. Nope. They were blue, green, and pink. Whoa! Two dirt-streaked men gripped the bars on the back of a cart, peering out. Were the other carts filled with people as well?

Distracted, I inadvertently bumped into someone. “Apologies,” I rushed out, even as a fresh lance of pain left my head swimming.

An older gentleman with weathered skin and thinning gray hair muttered, “No crime,” and hurried on his way.

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