Mirable Dictu

Jeremy is starting to hate yellow.

No matter how hard he rubs his eyes and blinks, trying to chase it away, the soft yellow glow stays in his vision like a permanent black cloud over his head; because although he knows this isn’t nowhere normal, a small deep part of him whispers otherwise. He’s supposed to see yellow. He’s supposed to see auras. He’s supposed to do something about it. With it. He just doesn’t remember.

An annoyed grunt passes his lips as he turns his head to the side, studying with narrowed eyes the now happily chirping girl at his side. It hadn’t taken long for the shy little girl to warm up to him. But although she would be happily chatting away about nonsensical things, no matter how much prodding and questioning from his part, she wouldn’t tell him who this ‘Lady’ person was or where they were going.

Just to wait and see. Wait and see.

Jeremy had never been a patient guy before and he’s starting to think that he might not be one even now.

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been walking. Maybe minutes. Hours. Lifetimes. But one minute, he’s taking in the red glow that seeps from a doorway they pass in front of and the next, he’s trying not to tumble forward as Erica suddenly comes to stop in front of a old, grimy building that’s one blow from caving in. The surprisingly strong grip on his elbow from the little girl is the only thing that manages to keep him upright and he manages to throw her a small grateful smile once he composes himself.

She smiles back a smile that is all teeth and sharp edges. “Can’t have you getting all bruised up before the game even starts, no?” And she turns to face the doorway.

His blood runs cold, his breath hitches, and in a weak voice he asks, “What did you say?”

She turns back to face him, blue eyes wide with confusion, nose adorably scrunched up, and with a frown marring her young face. “I said something?”

A foreign instinct takes over him, forcing him to swallow the lump in his throat before shaking his head and forcing a small smile on his lips. “Nevermind. Must be hearing things.”

She shakes her head at him, blond hair flying all over, like he did something particularly silly and this time, takes hold of his hand and tugs him forward toward the entrance doorway. “Come on. She’s waiting for us.”

He doesn’t bother to speak or object. Or even ask how she knows that. He’s still too startled and freaked out, to do much more than follow like an obedient puppy.

They climb over creaky stairs and walk through a long dusty hallway until they finally stop in front of last door to their left at the end of it.

Erica doesn’t bother to knock on the door instead, focuses her gaze intently on the doorknob. In a minute, the door in banging softly against the wall behind it and she’s barreling through the now open doorway with an excited scream of, “Lady! Lady! We’re here.”

And the Lady’s here too.

Dressed in khaki pants and a blue blouse, with brown hair tied up in a loose bun, he thinks that maybe he’s seen her somewhere before.

“There’s a difference between forgetting and not wanting to remember, Jeremy.”

He knows where he seen her. She was there to greet him when he crossed over and landed in this city. “I remember that I’m supposed to be dead.”

But as his hand manages to shakily, but firmly grasp the doorknob and the Lady throws him a sympathetic look his way, he realizes that maybe he’s not. Is he?