- First Jamie was there, the he wasn't. He had felt this sensation before. This was walking into his classroom back before summer ended, the room a washed out gray, Melany sitting there regally against the desk with Beel lurking behind her. This was her hand over his mouth and at his throat—that sensation of water in his lungs and being unable to breathe—trapped, gone, lost, forgotten, nonexistent—
His eyes were forced open when he slammed into something hard. Above him was the glittering light from the surface, his hair swirling around him with the currant of the water. Despite this, his lungs felt no pressure; the ground he was on was solid and he moved without the feeling of liquid slowing him down. His hands shimmered in front of him like they weren't real. His long sleeves peeled away from his skin and the tendrils of fabric slowly formed into petals.
The world itself heaved—turned upside down—but he was still standing on the floor. He was in a bubble now, safe, meant to traverse the land in front of him. He thought about drowning and how his body rejected the feeling and everything exploded into color—the world glitched. The fish still swam as if nothing had happened, coral dotting the landscape like strange outlandish trees, but the sand had erupted outwards from his feet into a field of green. He stared at the long rolling hills with a distant sort of wonder.
The world righted itself, reversing itself again. A sea turtle swam around him, and then another, and then an entire flock of miniaturized ones swarmed past quickly enough to make his clothes ruffle. He exhaled a cloud of bubbles despite the air he was still normally moving through. His feet were still bare, gently caressed by the softness of the grass underneath him.
He found out when he looked down to the blades, they reflected him like a mirror. Every step created a ripple effect; he found himself joined by a multitude of different people, people he knew, people who could use magic, people he had met over the course of his journey into Otherworld. The silhouette was static, shifting between people quickly like a memory reel; Sonny, Noeh, Melany, Aodelle and Heliodora and Micheal—people like America and someone undefined, Jeremiah and Algernon and Thorne and Chris and then all of the other nobles he knew—Alois and Hux and Rabbit and Alexis and Lady.
Eventually it got to the meat of it—the deeper connections—and he saw himself-no-wait-it's Ollie, and he startled backwards. This wasn't a reflection, but a projected see through version of the man in front of him. He smiled, "I'm glad you're okay." sounding like it was being forced through an old movie filter, "I'm sorry for leaving."
It's alright? He tried to say, but his voice was gone. The image shifted again into his father, but he said nothing, and Shiloh said nothing, and he turned to walk away in a hundred of different overlays until the image buzzed again.
This time the entire world hiccuped. A women with soft brown hair and gentle blue eyes stood, the exact detail of her features obscured and her clothing plain and white. When she touched Shiloh he felt it—her hand tucking some of his hair behind his ear—"I really am proud of you and your brother." She said, her voice distant and faint like the breeze.
Something clicked behind Shiloh's eyes and the entire world seemed to stop—no—reset. He was on the beach shore again, the complexes of Ashdown over-layed on top of everything. People walked through him, entered stores, went about their life, walked over the water like it was pavement. The world over-layed again, this time at a ninety degree angle, people walking up the sides of buildings and driving through some weirdly-unoccupied space.
He started running, his feet sounding like shoes on the pavement despite them being bare. He turned down an alley and found himself in Waite-State forest. He followed the path through the woods and dropped directly into Blackfrair's library. He turned and opened the door and found himself in Court. Beel was there.
"Strange, isn't it, when you feel like you can't control where you end up?" His voice was lacking in malice, surprisingly. Shiloh turned on him and found a boy his age—maybe younger—with the soft brown hair like the women, only his eyes were hazel. He offered a sad sort of expression before his skin started to peel away. "Except, you're supposed to be in control here, aren't you?"
He blinked and found himself on top of a long, long tower. Looking down he saw clouds and birds and everything but the ground; Beel was next to him no longer. The ground started to crack underneath him.
Jump.
"I don't want to." He said suddenly, though he was sure his mouth never moved.
Jump.
The floor started to waver and flicker and dissolve. If he didn't jump, he would fall. Don't fall.
He jumped.
It felt like falling, and then it felt a lot like his fall through the void in that it was a bunch of nothing. Everything was weightless and endless. He felt himself slow, opened his eyes, saw the surface of the water again. This entire time had been a weird, blissful emotionless voyage.
Beel shimmered next to him again, wearing his face. "How come you'll look at everyone except for him?"
Shiloh looked over, watching his face flick between his own and Ollie's, both almost the same, but different in their subtleties. He blinked.
"He, him, them." He motioned vaguely, "What about me?" And his face shifted to something softer, warmer. ********, he was dreaming. He knew he was dreaming but it sinks in all over again, smashes him in the face. He sits up like he's waking from a dream but he's only seated in a park bench, under a palm tree, facing the ocean. Beel-Jamie is gone. He's alone with the sound of the waves. A crab scuttles up and settles by his foot. Shiloh kicks it away back into the ocean.
The ocean.
Was Jamie still in there?
He stood up, let his toes sink into the sand. He sunk with his own weight. He could face the waves and drowning and the foam as it filled his mouth. It was a dream and there was nothing to be afraid of. Somewhere behind him he heard Melany's voice—not the new Melany, the old one—her soft spoken Good boy. "You're not real anymore." He said to the voice, and it went silent.
He walked into the water—no, at first on top of the water—lilypads carrying his weight. He stopped under the swell of the sea, closed his eyes, took a breath—
—and fell all over again.