Ehireme Omoaka
Joseph Elliott
It always starts with a door. The portal into other people’s lives is different for every Mind Wanderer, but for Gemma, it’s always doors. Right now, she’s in a circular room with twelve doors leading off it, all equally spaced. The doors all look the same: plain, white, unremarkable. It’s what’s behind the doors that interests Gemma, for every time she mind-wanders, she’s shown something crucial. Sometimes she sees the world through the eyes of someone she knows, sometimes it’s a complete stranger. She won’t know until she opens the door. But which one to choose?
She pulls up the sleeves of her oversized blue jumper, spins on her heel and then reaches for the handle directly in front of her. The metal is so cold, it makes Gemma gasp. She bites down on her lip, gives a determined nod, then opens the door.
~
‘You’re going to be late!’
‘Just five more minutes, yeah? I’m beggin’ you.’
Bob pulls the duvet over his head, shutting out the world. A beat later, his bedroom door opens and his carer, Ebony, puts her head through the gap. ‘It’s nearly half past. We’ve got to go.’
‘What? You jokin’ me?’ Bob whips off the duvet and picks up his phone from the bedside table. 8:27. ‘Ah, man, how did I sleep through my alarm again?’
‘Get dressed,’ says Ebony. ‘I’ll drive you.’
Bob nods and gets out of bed. Thirteen minutes later, the two of them are in Ebony’s car, navigating the morning traffic. Bob runs a comb through his short afro, while simultaneously munching on a piece of jammy toast. Once he’s finished eating, he twists the knob of the car radio, scanning through different stations before giving up and switching the it off.
‘Why don’t they play anythin’ decent in the mornings?’ he says.
‘Depends on your definition of decent, I guess,’ says Ebony. She drums her fingers on the steering wheel. ‘Maybe they’ll be playing your songs one day.’ She glances over at him and smiles.
Bob replies with a noncommittal shrug. Song-writing is just something he does for fun; he’s not expecting it to lead to anything.
Ebony pulls the car up to the corner where she usually drops him off.
‘Have a good one,’ she says.
‘Thanks,’ says Bob. He gets out of the car and shuts the door behind him. He gives a little wave as Ebony pulls off, then heads down the road towards Jalisia College.
9:07. Only a couple of minutes after the bell. If he smiles sweetly at Miss Adeyemi, he can probably get away with not being marked down as late. He turns the corner towards the main school entrance, but then stops in his tracks. What the-? Something is wrong. Very wrong. He blinks, then scratches his head, thinking he must be imagining it. But, no, there’s no denying it: his school – the entire building – has completely disappeared.
How is that even possible?
He creeps towards where the front door should be, but there’s nothing but gravel and the sports field in the distance. Bob let’s out a nervous laugh, even though nothing about the situation is funny. He glances around him, his heart in his throat. The whole site is eerily quiet. Where are all the other pupils? Where are his teachers?
Bob creeps around the side of the school, looking at the empty space from all angles. He keeps shaking his head in disbelief. Then he notices something. The space where the building used to be looks like it’s… shimmering. Yes, he’s convinced of it now. The air has a soft ethereal glow, glimmering pink and gold in the light of the morning sun. It’s almost as if…
He steps closer, his hand outstretched until his fingers meet something solid. He pats the surface with both palms, feeling the rough bricks of the school’s exterior wall. The building hasn’t disappeared, it’s been turned invisible.
Bob’s phone starts to ring. He slips it out of his pocket and checks the display. Ebony. He slides his thumb across the screen to answer it.
‘You are never gonna believe-’
‘Are you all right?’ Ebony cuts him off. ‘Something really strange is going on.’
‘No kiddin’.’ He reaches out again and strokes his fingers along the invisible wall.
‘Things aren’t there anymore. Like, gone. They’ve just… gone.’ Ebony sounds panicked, the words tumbling over themselves in their haste to get out. ‘First, I thought I was just imagining it, but you know Rav’s Caff on the High Street? I drove past and it just wasn’t there. Then other things started disappearing too. Lamp posts, traffic lights, street signs. I’ve just pulled into our driveway, and Bob, our neighbours house has disappeared!’
‘I don’t think it’s disappeared,’ says Bob. ‘It’s just invisible. The same thing happened to my school.’
There’s a pause while Ebony digests this new information.
‘You should come home,’ she says. ‘Straight away. I’d offer to pick you up, but the roads are crazy right now.’
‘It’s fine. I’ll walk,’ says Bob.
‘Alright, see you soon. And be careful, okay?’
‘Of course.’
Bob hangs up the phone and is about to leave the school site when someone comes running towards him.
‘Bob, thank God you’re here.’
It’s his best friend, Elaina. She’s died her hair over the weekend, this time black with bright, pink tips.
‘Nice hair,’ says Bob.
‘Thanks, but it’s not really the time.’ She gestures towards their invisible school building.
‘Yeah, about that. Any idea what’s goin’ on?’
‘Nope, but I’m going to find out,’ says Elaina. She folds her arms over her purple crop top. ‘They sent everyone home, but some of the teachers went inside. Follow me. I found a door around the back.’
Elaina turns and starts jogging away from him, tracing her hand along the invisible wall to keep track of where she’s going.
‘You sure this is a good idea?’ Bob asks, struggling to keep up with her.
Elaina looks back at him and grins. ‘All my ideas are good ones, you should know that by now.’
She disappears around an invisible corner. By the time Bob catches up with her, she’s resting her hand on what Bob guesses must be a door handle.
‘You ready?’ she asks.
‘Not really,’ Bob replies.
‘Too late to turn back now.’
She pulls down on the handle, and they step through the open doorway. Inside, everything looks so… normal, exactly the way it always does. Certainly not like a school that’s recently been turned invisible.
‘Which way?’ Elaina asks.
Bob shrugs, then points to the left. ‘Uh… that way?’ he suggests.
‘Works for me.’
They start walking down the corridor, their footsteps squeaking on the cheap rubber floor. They’re in the science block, and the walls are covered in faded posters displaying chemical formulae, periodic tables, and the different bones of the human body.
‘What exactly we lookin’ for?’ Bob asks.
‘Anything that looks suspicious,’ says Elaina.
‘Like that door over there, you mean?’
They both stop and stare at the door at the end of the corridor – one that definitely isn’t usually there. It looks like it’s been taken straight out of a gothic mansion. It’s made of thick mahogany, and small creatures with twisted faces have been carved around its edges. There’s a sign pinned to the centre which reads ‘DO NOT ENTER’ in bold red letters. Elaina turns to Bob.
‘Should we?’ she asks.
‘But the sign,’ Bob says, his brow furrowed.
‘Since when has that ever stopped me?’
Elaina approaches the door and swings it open. The room they enter no longer feels like part of their school. It’s as if they’ve stepped through a portal into someone’s living room. It’s immaculately clean, the sage carpet recently vacuumed. A vase filled with orange and yellow tulips has been placed on the mantelpiece in front of an ornate mirror. In the centre of the room is a low coffee table with brass legs in the shape of lion paws. On top of the table is a tea set made out of fine bone china, decorated with waves and dragons. There’s also a large Victoria sponge cake, lightly dusted with pristine white icing sugar. Two slices of the cake have been removed and placed on side plates as if waiting for them. The teacups are full of tea, which lets off a gentle steam.
‘Awesome; Victoria sponge is my favourite,’ says Elaina, plonking herself next to the coffee table.
‘You’re not seriously gonna…’ Bob doesn’t finish his sentence.
‘Of course, I am. It’s like it’s been left especially for us.’
Elaina picks up one of the slices and takes a huge bite. ‘Mmmmm,’ she says, her mouth full of cake.
Bob glances over his shoulder. The corridor is still visible through the gap in the half-open doorway. His stomach rumbles. He is hungry. All he’s had so far this morning is one slice of toast. Elaina takes another bite, her eyes widening in delight. Bob can no longer resist. He sits down on the carpet next to her and starts to eat. The cake is delicious, and so is the tea. Maybe the best he’s ever tasted.
‘Good, right?’ says Elaina, licking her fingers.
‘So good,’ says Bob. He finishes the tea and then frowns, staring into the empty teacup.
‘What is it?’ Elaina asks.
‘There are leaves in the bottom,’ says Bob. ‘Isn’t that s’posed to tell you the future or somethin’?’ He turns the cup first one way, and then the other. ‘Huh. It kinda looks like…’
~
The vision comes to an abrupt end and Gemma is back in the room of doors. She takes a moment to gather her thoughts. That was one of the strangest mind-wanders she’s ever experienced, not just because Bob is one of her closest friends. Had her school really disappeared? She didn’t see what Bob saw inside the teacup, but she has the overwhelming sense that it’s important somehow; perhaps even some clue as to what’s going on, and how it can be reversed. She needs to speak to Bob and find out what he saw, but she hasn’t yet returned to her physical body. Whenever she’s mind-wandered before, she’s always woken up back in her bedroom as soon as the vision ends. So why is she back in the room of doors? Was there something else she needs to be shown?
Suddenly, a God-like voice booms throughout the room.
‘PICK YOUR COLOUR AND DECORATE A DOOR,’ it commands.
The voice is authoritative, yet also reassuring, almost comforting somehow. Gemma’s instinct is to obey, but how can she decorate a door without-
Four pots of paint appear at her feet: red, blue, yellow and green. Gemma has learnt not to be phased by the sudden appearance of things when she’s mind-wandering. There’s no paintbrush, however, so she uses her hands, scooping out the paint and splashing it over one of the doors with brazen strokes. She alternates between the four colours, mixing them together in swirly smears. The paint is as thick as plasticine and sticks to her fingers. The precise moment every inch of the door is covered in paint, the door swings open, and Gemma is sucked inside.
Gemma immediately knows where she is and her heart starts to race. This shouldn’t be possible. She’d always thought Mind Wanderers could only enter the mind of someone in the present, yet the room she now finds herself in is very definitely from the past. From her past. She’s stood in the bedroom of her fifteen-year-old self. Drab blue walls, a small unmade bed with a grubby duvet cover and mismatching pillow cases, the old desk with the broken leg… It is not a room of happy memories. All of her childhood fears and anxieties come flooding back. She’s finding it hard to breathe. All she wants to do is leave, but the door she travelled through is now locked. Something rattles against the open window. It’s the branches of her next-door neighbours’ apple tree. Ripe, green apples, hang from the branches, so bright, they’re almost neon. Gemma stumbles towards the creaky office chair in the middle of the room. It’s the only item of furniture she ever liked. She sits on it and closes her eyes, then starts to spin around in circles, the same way she did whenever she felt anxious as a child. She counts the rotations. One, two, three, four… As soon as the chair completes its one hundredth spin, Gemma – instantly, brutally – wakes up.
~
Her forehead is hot and covered in beads of sweat. The tips of her fingers are icy cold. Her body temperature is always a little off-kilter whenever she wakes up from a mind-wander, but today is particularly bad. She’s back in her bedroom – her current bedroom, not the one from her childhood. She takes a towel from the radiator next to her bed and dabs her forehead. The clock on her bedside table flashes 10:31. That was one of the strangest mind-wanders she’s ever experienced. First Bob and the disappearing buildings, and then the memory from her own childhood. What did it all mean?
She stumbles to the window, still a little dazed, and pulls open the curtains. The first thing she sees – or rather doesn’t see – is the block of flats opposite her house. It’s been turned invisible, just like her school. She grabs her phone and messages the group chat with Bob and Elaina.
Can you guys come over? Need to speak to you ASAP
Bob’s reply comes through almost straight away:
On our way
Less than 10 minutes later, there’s a knock on her front door. She opens it to find Bob and Elaina, both with concerned looks on their faces.
‘Am I glad to see you two,’ says Gemma.
‘The world’s gone crazy,’ says Elaina.
Gemma invites them in and tells them about her mind-wander.
‘I’m still trying to work it all out,’ she says. ‘I can’t stop thinking that whatever you saw at the bottom of that teacup is important somehow, but I was dragged away before I had a chance to see what it was.’
‘It’s so weird you were kinda there with us,’ says Bob.
‘I know,’ says Gemma. ‘It felt like I was spying on you… Sorry. I don’t have any control over what I see.’
‘Hey, no stressin’. If it helps us get to the bottom of all this, I’m all for it,’ says Bob.
‘So what exactly did you see?’ Gemma asks.
‘There was this pattern in the leaves, but it wasn’t clear,’ says Bob. ‘It kinda looked like a table, but it only had three and a half legs.’
‘Oh,’ says Gemma.
‘What is it?’ Elaina asks.
‘I think I know where we have to go, but I really don’t want to go back there.’
‘Where?’ asks Bob.
‘My childhood bedroom. I think you saw my old desk. One of its legs was broken. It’s the room I was in earlier, but… Well, I got overwhelmed and had to leave.’
‘What if we came with you?’ Elaina asks.
‘Yeah,’ says Bob, then he scrunches up his face. ‘Is that somethin’ we can do?’
Gemma chews her bottom lip. ‘I’ve never taken anyone with me before, but I’ve heard it’s possible.’
‘Then let’s try it!’ says Elaina.
Gemma nods, then goes into her kitchen and makes a pot of tea. Once it’s brewed for exactly seven minutes, she pours it into three mugs, then leads Bob and Elaina up to her room.
‘Drink this,’ she says, handing each of them a mug.
‘What is it?’ asks Elaina, sniffing the suspicious liquid.
‘It a mix of herbs that helps you mind-wander,’ says Gemma. ‘Tastes gross, but it should let you join me.’
She necks the drink, letting the familiar mix of valerian and passionflower flow down her throat. The others do the same, then the three of them sit crossed-legged on Gemma’s bedroom floor, holding hands.
‘Close your eyes, and try to empty your mind,’ says Gemma. ‘In theory, if I go and we’re holding hands, you should come with me.’
She takes seven deep breaths, imagining a flickering candle in her mind’s eye. On the seventh breath, the flame goes out, and then Gemma finds herself once again in front of a door. This time, it’s the front door of her childhood home. It’s dark, the midnight sky suffocated by sinister clouds. The sight of the door is enough to make her heart race, but then Elaina squeezes her hand. Bob is on the other side of Gemma and places a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
‘It worked!’ says Elaina, with a massive grin on her face. ‘We’re here.’
Her smile soon disappears at the sound of screams of horror in the distance. The screams rouse hundreds of pieces of paper, which rise up from the ground and float around the house, carried by a hostile wind.
‘Creepy,’ says Bob.
Gemma takes a step towards the house, but then something comes crashing through her bedroom window, landing on the driveway beside them. It’s her old chair, the one she used to spin around on to calm herself down. No sooner has it landed, a car pulls up and two strangers dash out of the back seats. They grab the chair, shove it in the car’s boot, then speed off. The whole theft occurs in less than twenty seconds.
‘I loved that chair…’ Gemma says. She shakes her head. ‘Let’s get this done.’
She’s not sure she would’ve been able to enter the house alone, but with Bob and Elaina by her side, she has the strength to go inside. They cross the threshold and start walking up the stairs towards her bedroom, but then there’s a deafening smash as the upstairs windows shatter. The sheets of paper from outside are blown in. Their edges are sharp as blades, slicing the wallpaper and slashing the bannisters.
‘Take cover!’ says Gemma.
They race back down the stairs and cower beneath the hallway table. Above them, the wind continues to howl.
‘How are we going to get up there now?’ says Elaina.
‘I’ve got an idea,’ says Bob.
He stands up and positions himself at the bottom of the stairs, dodging errant sheets of paper that whizz past his sides. He clears his throat, shakes his arms, then opens his mouth and begins to sing. His voice is beautiful, hypnotic. He improvises a song, telling the tale of a man with the power to quell the winds. Gemma and Elaina’s jaws drop in surprise, both at Bob’s uncharacteristic bravery and the fact that it seems to be working. As soon as he finishes the song, the wind stops and the sheets of paper fall harmlessly to the floor.
‘That was amazing!’ says Gemma.
‘How did you know that would work?’ Elaina asks.
Bob shrugs. ‘Just a hunch.’
‘Well, let’s go while the path is clear.’
They trample over the paper that litters the stairs and make it to the upper floor. Gemma pauses outside her bedroom while she gathers her strength. Once again, her friends place their hands on her shoulders for support. Gemma takes one more breath and then steps inside.
The sight of her old bedroom brings another rush of anxiety, but this time, with her friends beside her, the feelings don’t overwhelm her. She strides into the room and walks straight to the broken desk.
‘That’s it,’ says Elaina. ‘The desk we saw in the tea leaves.’
‘Which means whatever we’re looking for must be in this drawer,’ says Gemma.
The drawer slides open with ease. Gemma expects it to be full, as it always used to be, crammed with battered textbooks, old rubbers and pens that no longer work, but the drawer is almost empty. There is only one item inside: a red leather-bound book, its edges sprayed gold. The three of them instinctively lay their hands on the book, and the moment they do, the book shines so bright, all they can see is a blinding yellow light.
They blink and the light dims. They’re back in the present, returned to their bodies, sat crossed-legged on Gemma’s floor. Their hands are still holding the book, which is now emitting a pillar of light that shoots straight through the roof like a beacon. There’s a loud crack, as if the neighbourhood has snapped in two, and then the light disappears and the book returns to normal.
‘Did it work?’ says Elaina.
Gemma rushes to the window and looks outside. The apartment block opposite her house has returned.
‘I think it did!’ she says.
Bob’s phone pings.
‘It’s Ebony,’ says Bob, holding up his phone to show them the text. ‘Apparently our school’s visible again. Sounds like everythin’s back to normal.’
‘We did it!’ says Elaina. ‘We actually did it.’ She pulls Gemma and Bob towards her for a big group hug.
‘We still don’t know why it happened in the first place, though,’ says Gemma, picking up the red leather book. She flicks through the pages, but they’re all blank. ‘Whoever this book belongs to must have hid it in my old room, knowing it was the one place I never wanted to go back to.’
‘Well, whoever it was underestimated you,’ says Elaina.
‘They underestimated all of us,’ says Gemma.
‘Anyone up for a celebratory breakfast at Rav’s?’ suggests Bob. ‘I’m starvin’.’
‘You’re always starving!’ Elaina laughs.
‘Sounds like a plan to me,’ says Gemma.
The three of them go downstairs and head outside. The street is full of people chatting and pointing at the now-visible buildings. Gemma, Bob and Elaina walk past them in the direction of Rav’s Caff. They may not have found out who turned everything invisible or why, but right now that doesn’t matter. The sun is shining, they have each other, and breakfast is waiting for them.
Maybe Gemma will discover the answers next time she mind-wanders, when she finds herself stood once again in front of another inexplicable door…
Luton Literature’s Storytelling Project was made possible thanks to our funders, Arts Council England and Luton Rising through Bedfordshire and Luton Communities Fund.