Worlds Between
Where reality and reverie meet
When I was three, I could see other worlds.
They were squished between the spaces of ordinary society. Secret doorways hid just out of sight.
Clothes racks camouflaged plush forests. Puddles mirrored aquatic dimensions so similar to our own. Orchards of every delectable morsel imaginable stretched as far as the eye could see. Waterfalls overflowed with ambrosia. Hundreds of castles built on chalk foundations were washed away overnight and redrawn the next morning.
It was a marvelous place, and it was all mine.
When I was seven, I met the hidden people.
Citizens of places out of sight. Toys lead me on grand adventures — transforming into frozen figures at the sound of my parents turning the corner.
During the day, I paraded with the Seelie Court through enchanted woods and masqueraded with a menagerie of beings at the stroke of midnight. Creatures, cryptids, and a combination of characters traveled from afar to meet me.
I became an ambassador to the imaginary. An emissary to illusions. A proxy to psychopomps.
But I could not bridge our worlds, try as I might.
At ten, I embarked on a journey.
