Deadwood

“Alyss? Alyss, wake up!” Someone was talking to me urgently, but I couldn’t respond. I just wanted to continue sleeping. I frowned, annoyed by their persistence.

Apparently this response urged them to continue pestering me. “Please, open your eyes!” The person pleaded desperately.

They sounded so scared; I had to do something. So reluctantly I pulled myself out of the calm semi-consciousness and forced my eyes to open just a sliver. I could make out the vague form of Oliver, bending over me with huge, concerned eyes. “Thank the lord.” He breathed, squeezing my shoulder. “I was worried that maybe you’d…”

He stopped talking, too uncomfortable to continue. I was confused now. What was he talking about? And why was I lying on the ground? I knew we had been exploring, and suddenly I had woken up. What had happened?

When I asked him this, he got this faraway look in his eyes. “It was so…strange. It was like the very air started to - to move or something. I don’t even know how to explain it. I heard you say my name and then suddenly you just slumped to the ground, out cold.”

“You saw it too?” I breathed, remembering the way everything seemed to shimmer.

Oliver nodded, his face tight and uneasy. “I think we should get out of here. This place gives me the creeps.”

I couldn’t agree more. He slung my arm over his shoulder and hoisted me up, helping me along at a fast pace. Despite the throbbing in my leg, I didn’t complain. There was something not right with that clearing, with that tree. And I felt…different, somehow, though I couldn’t put my finger on it.

Thankfully Mom wasn’t home when we made it to the house. A note on the kitchen table confirmed she had gone into town to go shopping. That saved me an explanation, for now. The wound on my leg was a lot deeper than I had originally thought. “You probably hit a large rock or something.” Oliver murmured as he cleaned it.

After my leg was properly bandaged, we sat down in my room, not saying anything and just staring off at nothing. “What happened back there?” Oliver finally asked, breaking the tense silence.

“I’m not sure.” I hesitated. “I think I saw a man, though. Right before I fainted. And now I feel different, but I don’t know why.”

He nodded slowly. “I do too, actually. I keep looking myself over, but I still look the same. Its like something inside of me has changed.”

I thought that was the best possible explanation for it. “You don’t think…it was the tree, do you?”

His eyes caught mine quickly, but he didn’t deny it. Nor did he say anything; but he didn’t have to. We were both thinking it, though afraid to voice it aloud. All of it had started when I touched the tree. “There’s something wrong with Deadwood.” I said quietly. “And I don’t think it bodes well for us that we stumbled across it.”

Uneasy silence again descended upon my room as we dwelled upon my words. I gazed towards the full-length mirror I had saved from the dust of the attic, not really looking at the reflection. But suddenly I sat up ramrod straight, my eyes fixed intently on the glass. Oliver had noticed the movement and looked at me with a startled expression. “What is it, Alyss?”

When I didn’t answer, he too looked at the mirror. I could tell by the rigid way his body was held that he could see it too.

The dark, shadowy image of a young man was looking back at is. One arm raised, his head turned in my direction as if in greeting. And then it was just my reflection staring back at me, pale and shaking.

“Please tell me that wasn’t just my imagination.” I whispered, unable to speak any louder.

In response Oliver moved to sit next to me on my bed, still looking with wide eyes at the mirror, as if at any moment something would jump out of it. I didn’t really blame him; I half expected something to do just that.

After a few moments of just staring at it, I began to fidget. I always did let my curiosity get the better of me. Uncertainly I stood and moved slowly towards it, ready to run should something try to grab at me. “What are you doing?” I heard Oliver ask behind me, fear plain in his voice.

“I had a thought,” I started to explain. “This house is pretty old, as are some of the furniture and stuff that was left behind. Maybe this mirror holds some sort of secret to the Deadwood tree, and that’s why this…man followed us here.”

“What if he’s not good, Alyss?” Oliver was standing now, fists stuffed in his pockets. “He could hurt you. I think we should get rid of the mirror, or at least cover it up with something.”

But I wasn’t listening. I stretched my arm out, meeting the cool, firm glass with my fingers. Then I stepped to the side and moved the mirror slightly so I could look behind it. I could see a date, very faintly written in a spidery scrawl: 1816.

“Oliver, there’s a date written back here.” I said excitedly, my fingers probing along the back of the mirror. And then I stopped talking as my heart sped up.

It was barely there, but I could feel it: a small, rectangular section of the backing stood up. “Do you have a pocket knife?” I asked quickly, keeping my hand in place.

He tossed me one and came to stand next to me, his eyes questioning. Turning the mirror a little more, I ran the knife along the outside of the raised part. Carefully I peeled off the old backing and my breath caught in my throat.

“What is it?” Oliver asked impatiently. “What did you find?”

Withdrawing my hand, I held up a small leather-bound journal. A little crescent moon was etched in gold leaf near the top of the cover. “Does this look familiar?” I asked, more than a little shaken.

With a slightly trembling hand I opened it up to the cover page and could hardly believe what I was reading.