I awoke to find myself on the doorstep of an imposing brownstone house, the leering gargoyle of the door knocker at eye level. I stepped back, startled. The key, a solid old-fashioned thing of elegance, weighed heavy in my hand. I somehow know that I had just used it to unlock the beginnings of this mystery.
I pushed the door open. The grey wispiness that defined 'out there' slithered into the dimness, a slimy harbinger of my entry to all who dwelt within.
I moved, with an underwater lethargy, down the long hall. To my left, the darkened parlour, heavy with velvet, dark wood, brick and formality. A fire glowed in the grate, soft and almost menacingly familiar.
To my right lay what should have been the dining room. Long and narrow, it dazzled the eyes with an unexpected brilliance of sunshine from the open bay window. Bookshelves surrounded three computers, framing them. I knew without looking, that the he bookcases extended around to frame the doorway in which I stood.
Opposite the window was a counter. I could see a small, spotless kitchen from my vantage point. Yellow curtains above a stainless steel sink fluttered gaily in a breeze I could not feel.
The hallway , dark and soft, stretched beyond the kitchen. I knew that the kitchen could be entered from the hallway, but none of the light spilled into the hallway to show the entrance.
I knew, too, that beyond the kitchen lay two bedrooms, large, airy and unfamiliarly feminine. Further back, in darkness my eyes could not penetrate, was an open platform, and uncarpeted balcony without railings, that surrounded the stairwell leading to the cellars. Belowstairs, I knew I would find a darkened sitting room/bedroom for an older girl and the hallway that led to the furnace room.
The silence, as I stood in that upper hallway between the parlour and the library, was absolute for a long moment. A faint whispering tickled my ears. It came from the back stairs. With a snap, I was freed of a confinement I hadn't noticed. I strode toward the sound.
Anger overshadowed my surprise. Seated on the top steps were an old classmate and... my stepmother? A small voice inside me giggled. I'd never had a stepmother, certainly not one as coldly, fashionably, beautifully blonde as this one.
I eyed them both with disgust. Between them sat my daughter's inhalant machine, a relic from her childhood. I know, somehow, that the white powder they shared had nothing to do with asthma relief. Silently, I picked up the container of powder and walked to the kitchen. My stepmother's mocking laughter accompanied me. The glazed eyes of my former classmate haunted me, mocking and accusing.
I poured the powder down the drain. As if it was a cue, the house reverberated with the sound of many voices.
It was only a couple of steps from the sink to the doorway. The hall was filled with laughing, partying strangers. The front door was wide open, allowing more people to enter. The newcomers carried boxes and pieces of furniture that I recognized as belonging downstairs.
I pushed my way through the growing throng. "What are you doing?" I asked the crowd in general.
My stepmother's face swam before me, a malicious smile slashing her face into an ugly mask. "Why, so my girls can watch the tornado," she said with cheerful spite.
I looked into the library. My daughters were clapping their hands with glee as they watched the procession. My skin tingled as I considered the danger. I turned back to the cold woman, but she has disappeared as suddenly as she'd appeared.
In her place was a box. A deep voice rumbled, "Git outter way, stoopit." I moved aside, surprised.
"They're coming to take the furnace," an unidentified voice explained. I looked around frantically. With a speed my bemused mind marveled at, I raced down the hall to the back stairs. I don't remember descending them, though.
I stood in Stygian blackness. Boxes I couldn't really see lay tumbled at my feet. I knew that. From the darkness came a soft laugh. A hand waved and a face appeared, disembodied by the unusual light. The light, I think, came from him. The face was familiar, even though I didn't recognize it. I saw a flash of argent silk. A jumpsuit? I let my breath out in relief. It would be all right.
With a sudden flash, I was back upstairs. The sky outside, what I could see through the open door, had grown yellow dark and threatening. Whatever IT was, I knew danger approached.
I was rudely shoved aside, as a man elbowed his way past me. He carried a box that, I knew, contained something precious to me. Even my fears for my children paled at this new horror.
"Where are you going with that?" I pulled on his arm, trying to stop him from taking the box out of the house. It was like trying to stop Time itself and just as ineffective.
"My dear Lady," an oily voice slid from the parlour. "My dear Lady, he takes what is owed me."
I spun. The shadows make an exact identification almost impossible. I was certain I had never seen the speaker before this day. A man, perhaps, male, certainly. Corpulent, unctuous, dangerous, most definitely. He terrified me, even though neither he, nor members of his entourage, shadow figures in the gloom, made any move toward me. He lounged in an armchair in my parlour. I stood in the hallway, feeling like a cornered thief. It made no sense.
"But why?" I managed to stammer.
"It is simple," he said cooly, as if speaking to a particularly backward child. "Terry owes me and I intend to collect." His beringed fingers toyed with the arm of the chair. He appeared fascinated with their movement.
I strove for calm. The panic - I could feel hysteria rising in me. "But Terry doesn't, never has, lived here," I told him.
"Nonetheless, I shall collect," came the calm pronouncement.
"Then collect from Terry!" I pleaded.
He only looked at me, shaking his head slightly.
I was pushed aside again, and again, and again, spun around, as my stepmother's lackeys brought in goods and this stranger's minions removed my life. Thunder rumbled once, in warning. A brilliant flash of light illuminated the hallway. The noise deafened me, and it began to hail.
I found myself flattened to a wall in the library. Tears of fear, horror and helplessness poured down my face. "Oh, please God, no!" I raised my face, noticing for the first time, the clear mint green of the ceiling. Something in me took an enormous leap of faith. "Oh, please God, please - Callahan's!!! Help me!!!" I begged.
A warm body nudged at my knee. I looked down, surprised and yet not. My fingertips just brushed coarse grey fur and a canine face, tongue lolling, grinned up at me.
A squeal of fright drew my attention. A woman was swatting at... a dragon? Oh, not a large one, to be sure, but still... I stared at the spectacle. All manner of flying creatures strafed, dive-bombed and otherwise harried the people in the library. Birds, both predatory and not, dragons, a miniature flying horse wreaked havoc on a disbelieving crowd. An imp swung from the rafters, grinning, enjoying the disarray.
A squawk of protest drew my attention to the parlour. From my vantage point, what appeared to be Mother Earth, Gaea herself, waded through the riffraff, while a short, rotund gentlemen in a leather apron seemed to be picking people up by their ears and carting them outside like so many bags of garbage. Armoured knights poked lances at those not moving quick enough.
I ducked reflexively as a brilliant spark of light flashed by me. Tinkerbell? I wondered. My jaw was slowly unhinging itself as shock piled upon shock.
I heard a giggled 'nope', and the light sent out a flare in the direction of my stepmother. My tormentor leapt as if stung.
Looking down, I saw foxes and a vixen or two. Cats prowled, ignoring the mouse bravely chewing at shoelaces.
I could hear more sounds of confusion coming down the hall, and a regular sizzling sound, as if someone were testing a hot iron several times.
More panicked people swirled around me. It looked as though they were being herded. I cautiously peeked around the door frame. I blinked. Twice. Still the sight of two ponies, quite literally kicking people out the door, remained. No, not two ponies, not with the grey one's long ears. Holding their heads was a small man in a floppy hat.
I slumped to the floor. The last thing I remember seeing was more grey fur.
When I came to, I was in bed, covered by a motorized fur blanket. This is my room, I thought, glancing at the rose covered walls and the dainty furnishings, dainty but for the huge canopied bed upon which I rested. I closed my eyes.
Now this can't be happening, I thought. The rasp of warm sandpaper along my cheek assured me of the reality. I opened one eye.
On my chest sat the Matriarch, smoke grey, paws curled under her in regal repose, yellow eyes daring me to try to escape. I sighed. I recognized "The Look".
I turned my head to be eyeball to tummy with a small calico kitten. The bridge of my nose was sandpapered as a reward. I sighed again.
"Okay, okay." I murmured, defeated. "I'm up."
My fur blanket tumbled off the bed, cats in all shapes and colours, and streamed out the door. The Matriarch unfolded, yawned, stretched gracefully, and retreated to the door. I sat up.
With a gentleness that I had not expected, the kitten climbed up my back and onto my shoulder. I grinned in spite of myself. It earned me another sandpaper lick.
Carefully, so as not to disturb either of my escorts, I stood up and made my way to the voices in the parlour. I no longer felt afraid.
A quick peek into the library revealed no sign of the previous turbulence. The computers were as they had been. The books once again restored to their places upon the shelves. There was no sign of the furniture that had been brought in. I relaxed completely, then. All was as it should be.
I propped myself in the doorway to the parlour. It had changed, that room, but it was to be expected. Sunlight streamed in through the open windows. A new bar graced one corner. A huge, lovingly polished, machine took pride of place on its counter.
A hot tub stood in the solar, a new addition to my home, but one that I suspected couldn't be seen from outside the building. It held about a dozen people, with drinks floating from the bar to the tables built into the hot tub's sides.
Several more people gathered around an upright piano, the music and song loud enough to be heard, but never over-powering the conversation in other areas.
Other people were either standing by the bar or seated at the myriad tables that dotted the room. The faces were unfamiliar but I knew at once they were friends. A merry fire burned in the grate, shards of glass twinkled on the hearth. Gaea held court from the sofa, surrounded by laughing men and women. The armchair that once held a terror now comforted a beautiful woman, her smile warm and welcoming.
The kitten no longer rode on my shoulder, but I hadn't noticed her leaving. A young woman stood next to me in the doorway. I stared at her. But for her voice, she could have been my daughter. No, not my daughter, me! And I laughed.
"Welcome to Callahan's Saloon," she said softly.