by Rebecca Bush
I remember the portal - an enormous, ragged piece of weatherworn boulder precariously held in place by the abraded long lost leg of Captain Hook. Intrigued, I walk over to see what lay on the other side. I ascend the rocky mound leading to it, painfully bleeding my tender feet. As I pass through the arch, a surge of electricity sends my body into paralytic spasms.
~ ~ ~
I awaken. I am lying prostrate on a floor in a room full of people. Smartly-dressed guests drink wine and champagne imbibing themselves into giddy oblivion.
The room’s walls are made of tempered glass and I walk over to see what lies outside – a black ocean crashing loudly against a white virgin beach.
The loud cracking of thunder announces a storm. Quite suddenly, torrential rains begin to pelt down onto the tempered glass walls and the guests laugh at their impregnable condition. The angry rain pummels the glass trying to obliterate the mocking laughter inside.
As suddenly as it had started, it stops. The crowd cheers in victory. It is now day and light filters through the glass walls fracturing faces into tiny little pieces.
A surge of electricity passes through me again.
I open my eyes. We are floating. We are in Space. Two moons standing sentinel - Phobos and Deimos? We have been abducted. We are alone. We are no longer part of life.
~ ~ ~
Shit...no more tequila shots for me.