Harmony (2 page)

      
Sophia.
That sweet, Irish lilt filled my mind, soothed my senses and enticed me to turn.
Sophia. Turn away, come to me.
Relief washed over me as I followed his voice as any obedient child would a parent; all the while,
IT
hissed and snickered that it would be back. Tears formed, but no sounds escaped my throat. I was hollow inside, for my mother was gone. His powerful, comforting arms encircled me as he gently rocked me back and forth, singing a familiar and haunting tune, until the nightmare was gone. I was once again alone in my dreams.

       Over time, I conjured up a beautiful figure to match the soft, velvety voice I had grown so accustomed to hearing in my dreams. As I grew, his appearance became more breathtaking. Perhaps, it was my overactive teenage hormones that made him the prince of my dreams, the defender of my honor, and my knight in shining armor. Whatever he was, my mind’s eye always had him perched upon an old, mahogany chair, the leather worn and comfortable in a room surrounded by books. Often, I would interrupt him while he was deep in thought, a book resting idly in his lap. It was always the same. My figure had strong features. Definitely Irish, or what I assumed the typical Irish man to look like from the books I’d read. His face was not old, but weathered, like one who’d spent many summers near the ocean. It was gentle and soft, despite the perfect lines and contours that made him resemble a figure from mythology. His hair was black like coal; he wore it long and gently curled at his neck. Yet, it was his eyes that stole my breath. They were a deep, chocolate brown with flecks of caramel. I learned to read his thoughts by the intensity of his stare. The darker his eyes, the more passionate he was. The lighter they became, he was more temperate in mood. I couldn’t decide which I preferred. He became my constant companion in the night, warding off my nightmare or whatever
IT
was.

       I was still terrorized nightly, but it didn’t seem to matter anymore. I knew the nightmare would pass, and he would be there to gently guide me back. I almost looked forward to the horrific dreams, just to be able to converse with him and listen to his voice. He always hummed that haunting song that reminded me of my mother. I called him Ian. Oh, what conversations we had over the years! We would often talk about the most ordinary things imaginable. He wanted to know whether bananas were better on peanut butter sandwiches or my favorite, corn chips. He wanted to know my favorite color, what I liked best about such and such book. What were my favorite flowers? Our “chats” were the highlight of my day. He was my confidant and my soul; I could tell him anything. It wasn’t a big deal that I had an imaginary friend, but as I grew, I quickly learned that not everyone was comfortable with my imagination. Grams didn’t really mind; I think it amused her, but most of my friends started looking at me differently, wondering if I’d be normal, despite my horrific dreams, and abide by the social norms of school. Peer pressure could make one do the craziest things. So, I consciously made a decision not to talk about Ian anymore. A part of my mind was sad, but by the end of high school, Ian was all but absent every night. As if by some divine intervention or miracle, the nightmares ceased to bother me. Occasionally, I’d have a stray thought about previous conversations and reminisce on what Ian would think of this or that, but with my hectic school schedule as a senior, I didn’t dwell long upon the childish fantasies I created.

       Until this morning, when something most peculiar happened.

        Ian was back.

CONVERSATIONS

The alarm clock on my night stand sounded off. I glanced up at the time; its fluorescent green numbers displayed six o’clock. I reached for the snooze—five more minutes of sleep. I’d had a long night finishing my English paper.

       You’re going to be late.

       “I know, I know,” I whined, “just five more minutes Grams.” There was no response to my plea. I lifted my head from my pillow and looked up, fully expecting Grams to be there opening the blinds. “Huh, I must be more tired than I thought,” I mumbled. I could have sworn that Grams was talking to me. The alarm clock sounded off again. My extra five minutes wasted on my delusion. I sighed, “All right, I’m up.”

       My routine hadn’t changed in years. I was a creature of habit. I showered, dressed in whatever clean clothes I could find, usually jeans and a t-shirt. I liked being a no-frills girl. I just didn’t see the point when there was no one, and I mean no one, that I wanted to impress. I’d given up on meeting any one new or interesting this year after the debauchal at homecoming with Josh. Jefferson High was in dire need of some fresh blood! I looked in the mirror. Hair dried. Straight or pulled back? I sighed. Definitely a ponytail today. I’d forgotten to wash my hair; I was so distracted this morning.

      
Mom.

       I hadn’t dreamed about my mom and her death in awhile. Why today?
It must be the end of school stress,
I thought. Sure, I missed my mom and maybe I was a little bit sad that she was not here to see me graduate, but Grams made sure that I had plenty of stories about my mom. I knew deep down that she loved me more than anything. I didn’t clearly remember her death—hence the nightmares. Grams saved the newspaper clippings for me on her accident, and I used to read them often to see if any details would surface, but I remembered little. Apparently, the trauma from watching your mom assaulted by thugs—as Grams called them—left me incapable of processing what had happened. I mentally shook the memory from my mind.
Time to let the past go Sophie.

       I rushed downstairs—Grams was a lifesaver. She’d left toast and juice out for me. Grams was the early bird, already up and gone to her job at the florists. I scribbled a quick “Thank you, see you after school,” grabbed my bag, toast, and keys, trying to balance it all as I locked the front door.

       Careful! Why are you always in such a hurry?

       I spun around, dropping everything. “Great!” I muttered. “There goes my breakfast.” But no one was there. “Okay, nice joke. Is that you, Max?” Chills ran up my spine. “Max?” I ventured, peering around the porch. “All right, ha ha you got me. Can we go to school now?” My gut told me that someone was playing a trick on me, but I knew no one was there, and I didn’t want to confirm my current suspicions that I was, at this very moment, hallucinating.

       You can be so stubborn!

       It took me a minute to register that voice. I knew that voice! Ian. I rolled my eyes. “Not today! Of all days to go bonkers…” Opening the car door I said to myself, “Not a good day, Sophie. Not a good day. Math test in twenty minutes.”

       Ian laughed.
I’m sorry. While it’s amusing to listen to you talk to yourself, get going or you’ll really be late. Don’t worry, the paper for English is great.

       “How…?” I stammered. “Right.” My subconscious. I could easily explain this all away. My subconscious merely had a name. I shook my head and pulled out of the driveway. I justified my delusion. “I stayed up late, and I’m not delirious, just talking to myself here.” I could hear laughter in my mind. “Seriously, are you laughing at me?” I was more than annoyed.

       Sorry, just ignore the man behind the curtain.

        
Great, a subconscious with a sense of humor. I sped off toward school. As I pulled into the school lot, I saw Emily. I put the old Chevy into park, grabbed my bag, and got out. “Wait up!” I yelled across the lot to Emily.

       “Hey, Soph! Did you finish your English paper?” Emily asked.

       “Yes, just barely. I’m so exhausted I think I’m hearing things,” I added.

       “I know what you mean,” Em started. “Just think, two months and we are out of here! Oh no, don’t look now, but Bethany and her minions are coming this way,” Emily said, dragging me aside.

       “Perfect, just what I need this morning, another episode in battle of the wits,” I said, steeling myself for the confrontation. Too late, Bethany spotted us.

       “S-o-ph-i-a,” Bethany said as she headed over. “Nice outfit. How long did it take you to come up with that?” Her lackeys laughed.

       I rolled my eyes. “B-e-th-a-ny,” I said sarcastically. Two could play at this game. “Is that all you’ve got? Didn’t you see
The Kardashians
yesterday? This is all the rage. I’m really surprised,” I said, using my best shocked voice. “I would have thought you’d be wearing this already.” Emily and I walked away, suppressing our laughter. 

       “You are so wicked, Sophie.” Emily swung an arm around my shoulders. “But she deserved it.”

       I thought Bethany was one of your friends?
Ian interjected.

       I rolled my eyes for about the twentieth time this morning.
Are you still here?
I thought back.
Catch up, will you? We’ve been mortal enemies since the sixth grade. Geez, for my subconscious, you are not with it today.
 

       Apparently,
Ian said.

       I said goodbye to Emily and told her I would see her at lunch. The bell rang just as I slid into my desk.

       “Ms. Flynn, so nice of you to join us today.” Busted by Mr. Harris again. How I hated Calculus.

       Calculus is easy.

       “Stop it,” I hissed under my breath. “I don’t need this today.”

       I can help, you know.

       Really? As if I didn’t have enough problems already.
Seriously Ian…
I pleaded.
If you want to help, go away.
I couldn’t stress it enough. Trying to hold a conversation within my mind and listen to Mr. Harris drone on about equations was giving me a headache. I winced.
If you are going to hang around all day, be quiet, okay? I can’t concentrate,
I thought.

       What’s wrong?

       I could tell he was concerned with my tone of voice. I relented,
I’m curious…why’d you pick today to show up?
There was no response. Good, quiet at last.

       The rest of the morning passed with little drama. Thankfully, no episodes as I was referring to them now. I caught up with Max and Em at their lockers. “Hey guys,” I said, leaning on the locker next to Max.

       “Hey,” they said in unison.

       “How was the English test?” I asked Max.

       “Killer, I should have studied with you guys,” Max said as we all walked into the cafeteria.

       “Today’s menu leaves little to be desired,” I said, peering at the containers behind the glass. “We should have gone off campus today!” I grabbed an apple, water, and a bag of chips.

       Is that all you’re eating?

       I sighed. I knew it was too good to be true.

       “What’s the matter?” Em asked.

       “Oh, nothing, just talking to myself again,” I replied.

       “You’re doing that a lot today, what’s up?” Emily quizzed me.

       “Just tired, that’s all.”

       We sat at our usual table in the back where we liked to watch the masses consume their lunches. Senior status afforded us the best tables and views
. It was so typical
, I thought. There was the cheerleader’s table, the footballers, the drama club, and so on.

       It’s a little much,
Ian said, viewing the pictures in my thoughts again.

       I’ll just be glad when it’s over,
I thought back.

       Teenage angst leaves little to desire.

       I smiled. It was pointless to keep trying not to hold a conversation with him. I’d forgotten what it was like to have Ian lurking around. I missed him.

THE PAST - GUARDIANS

The Knights of the Red Branch gathered in council. Conall sat at the head of the table, methodically drumming his fingers on the arms of his chair. His warrior’s body ached from one too many battles; battles fought on behalf of the King of Ulster, Connacher.

       The secret chambers of the Red Branch were forever dank and musty. Countless knights had sworn their allegiance to the Ulsters in this room. It was becoming harder for Conall to keep the past, present, and future separate. The mantel of history was staggering. Even as a young knight, Conall knew his purpose in the gods’ supposed plan. His destiny too had been foreseen. The loyalties and ties were weakening amongst his brothers. Rifts had been appearing for centuries. Conall had no doubt that what had been foreseen through prophecy and his own visions would divide the House of Ulster.

       Although he already knew the outcome, Conall slowly raised his aged hand to silence the other knights. He cleared his throat, “Brothers, I see that we are at a crossroads. Long have we been guided by the Druids in righteousness. Yet, I fear that Cathbad’s latest prophecy holds dire consequences for us all.” The knights were restless; this was not unexpected. “What say ye, Nemed?” Conall redirected his speech.

       “You are closest to our king.” Nemed rose. “He prepares now to secure the infant in seclusion.” The knights gasped loudly, banging their fists upon the table. Chairs scraped against the stone floor, and pandemonium ensued as knights clamored to be heard.

       “Nay!” the knight Ferghus said in disbelief. “The Druids have never led us astray.”

       “I am with Ferghus!” the knight Daman spoke.

       Nemed countered with his palms flat upon the table. “Your loyalties should be to the king!”

Heated arguments arose amongst various knights, and chaos was soon to follow.     “Silence!” Conall shouted. “We solve nothing this way. We have heard the arguments, now we vote.” Conall continued, “Who says ye yay? Who will uphold his vows to the Red Branch?”