‍

Prising her eyelids open to the loud light of day, Luz Villegas Prudencio stirred upon the moss pillow that cushioned her head and pricked an ear to the breeze.  In those dawning moments as slumber departed her bones, she suspected, from the disturbed intonations of the wind and fragile hues of the jagged cumulus fractus, that the day was out of sorts with itself.

‍

Luz was in the habit of sleepwalking and not in the least alarmed to find herself in a strange part of the forest and with no idea which way was home.  Over the years, she had woken up balancing on roofs, drifting in boats and swinging from cables.  The damp air of the evening was now surrendering to the heat of the sun’s rays that forked through the trees and pierced the ground around her, forcing the pools of mud to simmer and evaporate.  The wind brought with it breezes that tinkered as if glass bottles hung from the branches and gusts that roared with the force and passion of a trumpet summoning its troops. 

‍

As she lay still on her back, watching the leaves dance and the branches creak along with the orchestral wind, she observed the cloud formations in the sky and found them rather peculiar.  They lacked the tangled whisping of a cirrus intortus, did not possess the layered turrets of a stratocumulus castellanus and bore no similarity to a floccus.  If anything, they reminded her of birds, preened and spread like the feathers of a peacock with the regal grace of an eagle and the jutting beak of a toucan.  Stretching her limbs and crawling to her feet, she dusted down her nightdress and gulped in the air.  After pausing and inhaling again with a more determined vigour, she scooped up a handful of foxgloves and pressed them to her nose.  Neither they nor the forest had a smell.  

‍

This strange realisation was interrupted by a distant tapping, clacking and tearing – tap, clack, clack, clack, tear – followed by the flutter and flap of wings coming from the shade of the forest.  Luz picked her way through the undergrowth, branches tugging at her hair and her shoes sinking in the swampy pits of mud as she went further into the darkness, until the leaves began to fall from the trees and the trunks came crashing in on her, drawing away the curtain of the forest.  Fierce shapes screamed with gaping mouths while winged fingers flapped aggressively and colours yawned as she was propelled from the forest. 

‍

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

‍

Sticks of fear beating against her heart, Luz wriggled her toes in the sand.  The forest was gone and, in its place, stretched a desert as far as the eyes could see, bathed in a blinding, iridescent light.  Its dunes were covered with mahogany writing desks, each with a green and gold reading lamp and a typewriter.  Men and women in purple quilted robes sat on high-backed chair-thrones and strummed away at the keys, not pausing for breath. With each tear, the pages were cast into the air and cradled by the wind as it plucked its energetic strings into a crescendo.  The paper wings floated and fluttered across the skies until they disappeared into the sun, consumed by its rays.  Occasionally a frustrated sigh, hysterical laugh, sob or incoherent muttering could be heard, but no head was lifted, no hands rested and for a while Luz went unnoticed.  

‍

‘May I help you child?’

‍

The voice jolted her from her trance and she surveyed the sea of faces for the one addressing her, but all heads were bowed. 

‍

‘Is there something I can do you for?’

‍

She was sure this time that the question came from the man in front of her.  His eyes, however, remained fixed on his work and his fingers continued to tap furiously against the keys, with no apparent intention of slowing. 

‍

‘Do you have a voice?’ The man demanded.

‍

Luz searched around for her voice, temporarily lost, and concluded that she must have left it in the forest.  As the man’s face reddened in anguish she struggled to clear her vocal chords.

‍

‘Well?’ he bellowed.

‍

‘What are you doing?’ Luz managed, her voice timid and distant.

‍

The man took his hands away and turned to face the girl with an expression of inquisition and exasperation.  He had extraordinarily long eyelashes that enlarged his pale grey eyes and made him appear permanently startled.  His bushy eyebrows jutted out at varying angles from his forehead and his white beard hung from his chin in seven separate plaits.  Luz noted that the ghostly keys continued to tap haphazardly, with presumed momentum, despite the absence of their master.

‍

‘We are writing lives, what might you be doing?’ he replied, flicking the tail of his cloak from underneath him. ‘I presume that your manners evade you because you are still under the illusion that you are dreaming and that this is of no consequence.’

‍

Luz stared at the man, unable to offer a reply.  What she was doing, she thought, as was the only logical explanation, was dreaming, yet he had just told her, to the point and rather aggressively, that she was not.  

‍

‘I do apologise,’ she croaked and chose to avoid the subject of dreaming. ‘May I please ask what you mean by ‘writing lives’?’

‍

‘No need for sarcasm,’ he gruffed, though of course none had been intended from the twelve-year-old.  ‘Myself and my esteemed colleagues’ - at this he made a grand and sweeping gesture towards the rest of the desert - ‘of authors, poets, comedians, scriptwriters and tragic playwrights, are writing the events of the lives on the Otherside, or what I think you might refer to as daytime.’

‍

‘That’s impossible.  Things happen because -’

‍

‘I see you are impertinent again and obviously under the delusion - as many of you are - that fate and coincidence play a great part in your existence.’

‍

‘Bu-.’

‍

The man held a finger to his mouth and silenced Luz. 

‍

‘There are, of course, other factors that I will not divulge now, but you must clear your mind of such ridiculousness and be grateful for our toils, otherwise your world would be a rather dull place.  We entertain you.  We are your guardians.’

‍

‘May I ask where are we exactly?’

‍

‘In the Otherworld.’

‍

‘Other than what?’

‍

‘Other than the one you have presumably just come from and other to all the others.’  

‍

‘Do you know why I am here?’

‍

The man blinked back at her for a moment, then launched into action as he began frantically rummaging around in the drawers of his desk.  After discarding a few apple cores, an unsharpened pencil and a ball of rubber bands, he produced an oversized gold whistle and blew on it with enough force to promptly bring the typing to a halt, with the exception of one old man, who, judging from the tufts of thick grey hair protruding from his ears, Luz thought was most likely deaf.

‍

‘Attention fellows,’ he announced, his baritone rumble carrying across the sands, answered only by a distant echo.  Pointing a finger down at the top of Luz’s head, he continued. ‘Who, might I ask, is responsible for this one?’

‍

The sound of shuffling papers, pencils scratching and fingers scrambling in desks ensued.  A hand eventually raised itself in the fourth row and a middle-aged woman, with long ashen locks piled on top of her head, lit by the sun, stepped forward.

‍

‘Right, well pass them to the front, please.’  The man made rapid circular movements with his hands to display a sense of urgency and further illustrated the already apparent lack of patience on his part.

‍

After scouring the papers the man turned to Luz, visibly perturbed.  ‘Quite a muddling state of affairs indeed.  The only thing we can know for certain from this is that you are not supposed to be here.  What you will have to do is go to the Upside Down Place if you are going to have any chance of putting things the right way up.’

‍

Spinning Luz around, he pointed with a long and bony index finger towards a tree that stood, trunk upturned and reaching for the sky, branches sprawled across the sand and leaves scattered in the dunes.  Gathering her courage, and somewhat relieved to leave the bizarre man, she began to walk across the sand and the music of the wind carried her with strident beats and honeyed notes.

‍

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

‍

She arrived at the Upside Down Place in what seemed like no time at all, but when she looked behind her, the desks were barely visible on the horizon and the colour of the day had altered beyond recognition.  The door carved into the trunk of the tree was adorned with a pair of golden swan wings and she held them with both hands and swung them down against the wood to knock three times.  Instead of the dull thud she had anticipated, it produced a shrill birdcall, somewhere between that of a dove and a macaw.

‍

‘Come in.’ 

‍

Luz pushed the heavy door forward and stared down a long hall, the end of which disappeared into the distance and bore no reference to the narrow width of the tree.  Gingerly stepping inside, she found herself in the middle of a grand sitting room, dimly lit just enough to cast shadows across the walls.  Everything in it truly was upside down.  Chandeliers stuck up vertically from the floor like stalagmite fingers while armchairs and tables hung from the ceiling with cushions and cloths that defied gravity.  The pendulum of a faceless grandfather clock swung back and forth like the needle of a metronome and pansies dangled, stalks first, from a vase.  

‍

‘Do take a seat.  Tea will be brewed shortly.’

‍

Luz looked up to see a rocking chair occupied by a bat no smaller than she was, sitting with his legs crossed and motioning for her to join him.  He was dressed elegantly in a tweed jacket and breeches that accommodated his unusual physique and wore thick, tortoise-shell spectacles. 

‍

‘How do I get up there?’ she asked.

‍

The bat pointed to a ladder, the rungs of which wrapped themselves around the room and she climbed her way to the floor-ceiling.  

‍

‘It takes some getting used to but the key is to think that everything is quite normal.’

‍

‘Will I not fall?’

‍

‘Only if you think you will.  Gravity is entirely in the mind.’

‍

Luz hesitated.

‍

‘Are you frightened?’

‍

‘No,’ she shot back defiantly, though she did wonder if bats, as with many creatures of the night, should perhaps be approached with a degree of caution.

‍

‘Good, then hop into that chair there, the springs have gone a little but the cushions make up for it.’

‍

Pouring tea from a pot into mismatching cups and saucers, he waited for Luz to adjust herself, her hair now standing on end and her cheeks turning crimson as the blood rushed to her cheeks.

‍

‘Ginger and charcoal, wonderful for the digestive system.’

‍

Luz, feeling a little giddy, took a wary sip, fully expecting it to spill out of the cup, but it miraculously found its way to her throat.  However, the taste was less miraculous and positively foul but she managed to contain her disgust and transform her grimace into a grin.  

‍

‘Now, I can see from your appearance that you are only half of yourself and therefore either looking for your other half, or in the wrong place, or both.’

‍

‘Well, I think I am all myself but I am certainly not where I am supposed to be.’

‍

‘And where should you be?’

‍

‘Awake.’

‍

‘Oh but you are awake’ he purred.  ‘You have unfortunately crossed over into your dream, while being awake.  This is rather awkward but do not be alarmed, we often get people passing through and it is most likely something you ate or severe indigestion.’

‍

‘If I am awake and this is my dream, then how can I wake up out of it?’

‍

‘Ah, now this is the thing.  What you must do is find your other self and wake her up, then you will disappear back to your waking life on the Otherside - bang! Just like a candle!’

‍

‘My other self?’

‍

‘Of course, some explanation is needed.’  He put down his teacup and rearranged himself in the chair, slowing the rocking with his foot and leaning towards Luz. ‘Your other self - the correct term I believe is Otherhalf - is the other half of your soul that connects you to this world and the part that will complete you when you die and show you the way to the Rightworld or the Leftworld, depending on your soul that is.  Is that part clear?’

‍

It was anything but clear but Luz nodded nonetheless.

‍

‘When you are awake, she is sleeping and you are her dream, or she dreams your life, whichever you prefer’ he continued.  ‘When you close your eyes at night, you are dreaming her world as she wanders through the Rightworld and occasionally - what nightmares are made of - the Leftworld.’

‍

‘Does she know that I exist?’

‍

‘Oh no, she has no idea, and really neither should you but as always there are exceptions and variables.  It is a very grave thing for two halves of a soul to meet when still living in separate worlds.  If she sees you when you wake her up, you will both disappear forever.’

‍

‘Where can I find her?’

‍

‘You must go first through the Inbetweenworld,’ he pointed out of the window to nothing in particular.  ‘From there, you will find your way to the Crossroads, where the Otherhalves are waiting.’

‍

‘And if she isn’t there?’

‍

‘Well, that is another matter entirely and one that does not bare thinking of until that juncture.’

‍

‘Where are we now?’

‍

‘Neither here nor there.’

‍

‘So then how do I get to the Inbetweenworld?’ Luz asked exasperated.

‍

‘We will be there in no time at all, I could do with stretching the old wings.’ He stood up abruptly and flung open the windows before replacing his spectacles with heavily tinted goggles and motioning for Luz to get onto his back. ‘Hold on tight, and if you’d be so good as to watch your slippers against the tweed I would be most appreciative.’

‍

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

‍

As they rushed through the air, gliding past the bird-clouds and entertained by the harmonious music of the wind, Luz watched the peculiar light and colour of the ground beneath her as it appeared in a constant state of flux, morphing and yawning. After soaring passed the Valley of the Fingers, the Steppes of the Souls and over the Stairs That Lead to Nowhere, they began their descent.  The bat gently touched down outside the gates of the Inbetweenworld and wished Luz a pleasant journey, pointing her in the direction of an orchard some distance ahead and warning her to keep to the left.

‍

When she passed the gates, the wind lowered its tone.  Crows screeched overhead and the earth crunched beneath her feet, obnoxious against the silence.  A fluttering in her stomach made her doubt if she should have listened to the bat and though she could see no one, she sensed a presence, a faint displacement of air.  The track curved around the corner and she found herself in the Soul Orchard.  Instead of apples, clear spherical jars hung from the trees, dangling in the wind and swinging weightlessly.  Luz approached a tree and held one of the jars to the light.  At first it appeared to be empty but when she took a closer look, there was a solitary and shrivelled raisin inside.

‍

‘Not got much to offer that one, sucked the juice out of life he did.  Miserable so-and-so.’

‍

The voice came from over her shoulder and Luz spun around to meet the weathered and line-marked face of an old man.  His back was hunched a little as he stooped to offer her his hand and his eyes were deep pools, watery and green.  

‍

‘Walter Moñtano Peñarrieta,’ he beamed.  ‘And you must be Luz?’

‍

‘Yes, pleased to meet you,’ she shook his hand and was warmed by his gentleness.  ‘How do you know who I am?’

‍

‘News travels fast in these parts.  Do you want to give me a hand with the harvest?’

‍

Luz did not quite understand what he meant by this but nodded enthusiastically as he disappeared into another row of trees, handing her a basket labelled Rightworld.

‍

‘Generally speaking, it is rather black and white with souls.  The majority go straight to the Crossroads and join their Otherhalves, who guide them appropriately left or right. What we are dealing with here, are the greys, or what we call the Maybe-nots and the Maybe-yesses, which make the Inbetweens.’

‍

‘How do you decide which way they go?’

‍

At this he plucked two jars from a tree and held them out to her, one in each hand.

‍

‘The definition of good and bad deeds in the grey area stipulates that, as these souls have done nothing extremely good or extremely bad, then it is a matter of motive and interest. You see, the Rightworld would be an awful’ dull place if it was all just the goodie-two-shoes, so in order to make it interesting, we have to assess the soul on personality to decide who out of this bunch goes right or left.  Are you with me?’

‍

Luz nodded as he held up the jars and surveyed their contents.

‍

‘Now, what do you see in here?

‍

‘A cherry and a cherry stone?’

‍

‘Quite, well the pip is the one that will go to the Rightworld and the cherry to the Left.’

‍

‘Surely a cherry is more interesting than a stone?’

‍

‘Ah, you see now here’s the thing.  The cherry means that all its life that soul had the potential to be a cherry but never took a bite.  The stone got the most out of life.  Its not always about appearance or taste, sometimes it is not the food but what has been done with it.’

‍

‘So it would be the same for an apple core?’

‍

‘Exactly, though these are the complexities, often it is as simple as a caper - sour, bitter and sharp - which goes straight to the Leftworld and a cocoa bean - rich, smooth and with a range of interests that would be a welcomed addition to the Rightworld.

‍

‘What if they took so much from life that there was nothing left?’

‍

‘Well, I would think that soul quite greedy, wouldn’t you?’

‍

Luz held another jar to the light, inside was a small gherkin and while she did not think eating a whole pickle was particularly greedy, she did not say so.

‍

‘The souls that come here take on the appearance and personality of food, so I can clearly see the sort of person they were in life.  Of course there are some tricky ones, onions in particular as very complicated beings - split personalities and multiple layers.’

‍

‘Why food?’

‍

Walter’s eyes bulged forward from their sockets and he clasped his beard in disbelief. 

‍

‘Do you not know that the spiritual organ is the stomach?  It connects you with your soul and this world.’

‍

Luz shook her head.

‍

‘When you get nervous about the future do you get butterflies in your stomach or feel queasy?’

‍

Luz nodded in agreement.

‍

‘Of course, because your stomach is in tune with the future and the Otherworld, it is all-seeing and all-knowing,’ he continued.  ‘When you eat too much before going to sleep or cheese before bedtime, do you have strange dreams?’

‍

‘Yes, come to think of it, I do.’

‍

‘Well there you go,’ he explained.  ‘And that is most probably just why you are here - you opened a door to this world when you ate something.  Do you remember the last thing you had?’

‍

Her parents did not understand that her night-time condition was involuntary and Luz had been sent to bed without dinner for sleepwalking the previous night.

‍

‘I had no supper, and lunch...I think I had a sandwich.’ 

‍

‘There you are.  Depriving the stomach of its life-energy can cause all sorts of problems.’

‍

The man handed her a slice of blueberry pie and Luz took a bite then paused, as a look of horror swept across her face, which Walter caught and began laughing.

‍

‘In the name of Morpheus!  We are not cannibals child, food-souls and food-to-eat are never, ever, confused.’

‍

Luz relaxed and went back to eating the pie, though the thought had put her off ever so slightly.

‍

‘Now, I suppose you are wanting to know where the Crossroads are?’

‍

‘Yes, please,’ she managed between mouthfuls, crumbs spilling onto her lap.  ‘Is it far?’

‍

‘Depends which way you go.  I always get confused myself these days but I am almost certain that if you enter that point there between the rose bushes, the path will take you.’ He pointed to the bush a few yards away then gave Luz an encouraging squeeze.

‍

Luz left Walter tinkering and rattling the jars of souls and wondered what food her soul would be and decided on a half-eaten slice of pie.  Then again, she would prefer not to be an Inbetween at all, and certainly not a raisin. 

‍

When she was younger, her grandmother told her that dreams were letters written in an unknown language and that dream creatures that came from the depths of inside you delivered them at night.  If this is where you go in your dreams and when you die, then perhaps in her sleep her Otherhalf could visit her grandmother.  It would be a very strange thing to see herself, though she did not know if her Otherhalf would look like her at all and made a note in her mind to ask someone.

‍

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

‍

Luz was shaken from her thoughts by water lapping at her feet and looked out at the lake before her.  She did not know how far or for how long she had walked, but she stood on the shore and stared at the vast expanse of water ahead.  A fine mist hovered on the surface and ghostly tall ships sailed through its inky waves, sails sewn together with unblinking eyes that stared out and navigated their path.  Clocks and watches hung from the branches of the trees that lined the shore and the tick-tock merged with the clashing cymbals of the wind as a storm approached and lightening forked the skies.  Luz turned and ran for the shelter of the woods.

‍

As she entered the dark canopy, a voice called out to her from the dark.

‍

‘Where are you running to, or from?’

‍

The woman was sitting on a blanket of leaves, cutting something out with scissors, the pieces scattered around her.  She was dressed in what appeared to be at least five coats of varying fabrics and patterns and wore thick-soled boots on her feet.

‍

‘The storm,’ she replied.

‍

‘No need to worry yourself about that.  It never rains here, just some thunder and lightening when souls clash or the recently dead get themselves worked up.’  She pushed her half-moon glasses to the edge of her nose and eyed Luz with interest.

‍

‘Not had one of you in these parts for a while.  You haven’t found your Otherhalf yet have you?’

‍

‘No, how can you tell?’

‍

‘Just look at you.’

‍

Luz looked at her questioningly.

‍

‘Go on, stand up and look at yourself from the side.’

‍

Luz stood up and noticed that she had, indeed, thinned to only half her normal size.

‍

‘Will my Otherhalf look like me?’

‍

‘Exactly the same,’ she replied.  ‘Now, what’s your thing?’

‍

‘My thing?’

‍

‘Yes, what interests you most?’

‍

‘Clouds.’

‍

The woman beckoned Luz towards her.  When she got close, she saw that the pieces were all parts of a jigsaw puzzle.  She picked one up and looked at it.

‍

‘But it’s blank.’

‍

‘Not if you use your imagination,’ the woman chuckled.

‍

Luz began to put the pieces together dubiously but when she was done she was delighted to see a picture of a fractonimbus.  A further puzzle revealed a Cumulonimbogenitus.

‍

The woman scooped up the pieces of a puzzle and popped them into a pink and white striped paper bag that reminded Luz of the sort you get in a sweetshop.

‍

‘Here, take it with you.’ 

‍

‘Thank you,’ Luz squealed and slipped the bag into her pocket. ‘I should be on my way, it was lovely to meet you.’

‍

‘And you, take care of yourself.’

‍

Luz disappeared deeper into the woods and towards the light on the other side.  When she reached the opening she passed once again through the rose bushes and found herself in the Soul Orchard.

‍

‘Oh dear,’ said Walter putting his head in his hands.  ‘This is entirely my fault.’

‍

‘But I followed the path,’ Luz protested.

‍

‘Yes, but I forgot to tell you to always turn right.’  

‍

‘The bat told me to keep left.’

‍

‘Well, that’s what happens when you live upside down, you get things all muddled and back to front.  If you turn left, then you just end up where you started every time.’

‍

‘But if I always turn right, then won’t I also end up where I began?’

‍

‘By logic yes, but you are not in the land of logic now.’

‍

Luz sat down wearily on the log next to Walter.

‍

‘Don’t be disheartened, you’ve not got far and it’ll all work itself out, it always does.’  

‍

He rummaged around in a basket and produced a jar.

‍

‘This should cheer you up.  It’s a chocolate soul.  No one knows why, but they hum.’

‍

Luz held the glass to her ear and listened to the dulcet, sultry sound that came from within.

‍

‘You can take it with you, in case you get lonely.’

‍

‘What will I do with it?’

‍

‘You can hang it up on a branch at the Crossroads and I’ll be sure to collect it when I next do my rounds.’

‍

‘Which way is it going?’

‍

‘Right of course, there’s no place for such deliciousness on the left.’

‍

Luz gave Walter a kiss on the cheek that made him blush and disappeared off through the rose bushes, making sure this time to turn right.

‍

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

‍

The little boy was sitting in the middle of the bridge, with his legs dangling down towards the water.   She could not see his face but could tell from the up and down movement of his shoulders that he was crying. 

‍

‘Are you alright?’ she asked.

‍

He gave no answer but continued to sob and she sat down and gently put her arm around him.  He turned towards her and she saw that where is eyes should have been, there were instead two empty holes, dark and tearless. 

‍

‘Where are your eyes?’

‍

‘When I died they gave them to someone else so that they could see,’ he sniffled.

‍

‘Oh.  I’m sorry.’

‍

‘It’s alright,’ the boy sighed.

‍

‘I’m Luz, what’s your name?’

‍

‘Victor Castillo.’ 

‍

‘Where are you going?’

‍

‘I was making my way to the Crossroads but it is hard without my eyes and if they are the windows to my soul then how will I find my Otherhalf?’ 

‍

‘Well your soul is in your stomach anyway and I am going to the Crossroads so you can come with me if you like?’

‍

‘Really?’ The boy turned to her and managed a smile.

‍

‘Yes, of course, and maybe there we can get you some more eyes.’

‍

‘Thank you!’ The boy leapt up and gave Luz a hug and it was her time to blush.

‍

‘Come on, let’s get going then.’

‍

She led the little boy by the hand and they continued along the path, making sure to always turn right.

‍

‘How did you die?’ Luz asked after a pause.  

‍

The boy lifted up his shirt and revealed a neat scar that criss-crossed across his heart.

‍

‘My sister shot me in the heart,’ he said.  ‘It wasn’t her fault though, I was teaching her how to use a bow and arrow.’

‍

‘Do you miss her?’

‍

‘Yes, but once I find my Otherhalf, maybe I can find hers too and we can play again.’

‍

‘So then she can play with you in her dreams?’

‍

‘I hope so.’

‍

‘What’s it like being blind?’ Luz ventured.

‍

‘Like walking around with your eyes closed.’

‍

As they continued, Luz was grateful that the little boy could not see. The path had a sinister shadow and the wind grew quiet, leaving an eerie silence.  Rose bushes twisted their branches across the path with thorns that tore at her skirt and the darkness was thick and damp.  Jagged edges and lines speared her vision, shapes jostled for her attention and colours darted to and fro without consideration.  Winged creatures fluttered around that seemed to have no shape of their own, but instead to be cut out of the world around them, like empty flying voids.  Flashes of eyes belonging to hidden bodies lit the path like spying lanterns and the bird-clouds above swooped down towards them, drawing themselves hurriedly across the sky as the blankets of thunder rolled along the hills.  

‍

Luz remembered the chocolate soul and bent down to hold it against the boy’s ear and he listened as she distracted her thoughts with those of upside-down bats and writers in the sand.  After a while, the light shifted and the winds began to sing again, the orchestra drawing them towards the trees that glowed with greens and purples up ahead.  When they reached a clearing, they realised that they were at the peak of a mountain that they did not even know they had climbed.  A wooden sign told them that they were at the Crossroads of the Inbetweenworld and pointed in the directions of the Rightworld and Leftworld.  The path was empty but there was a mysterious rustling coming from the bushes and Luz could sense that there were others around.  

‍

‘Now what do we do?’ asked the boy.

‍

‘Hang on, wait here.’

‍

Luz left Victor in the path and searched the trees for a suitable place to hang the chocolate soul.

‍

‘We have to find your Otherhalf,’ she yelled back as she scrambled up a tree.  ‘Where do you think he might be?’

‍

‘If I was him, which I suppose I am, then I would probably be up a tree.’

‍

Luz finished hanging the soul jar and climbed back down to find Victor standing below.

‍

‘How did you get there?’ she asked as she jumped from the final branch.

‍

She dusted her nightdress and turned to see Victor’s Otherhalf staring back at her with round hazel eyes.

‍

‘Come with me,’ she said, taking his hand.

‍

‘Victor, meet Victor,’ she said triumphantly and put the hand of Victor with no eyes and placed it into the hands of Victor with eyes.

‍

‘Pleased to meet you,’ the boys said in unison and erupted into a fit of giggles.

‍

‘Will he see again?’ she asked Victor with eyes.

‍

‘Everything you lose in life comes back to you in the Rightworld.’

‍

Each Victor gave her a kiss and Luz waved as the boys set off down the path and turned right.  Alone again, she felt a sinking in her heart and, remembering her quest, ran after them.

‍

‘Victor!’ she asked the boy with eyes.  ‘Do you know where my Otherself is?’

‍

The boy looked at his feet and sighed.  ‘I was afraid you might ask.  I think she wandered into the Leftworld.’

‍

‘Well, at least I know where that is,’ she laughed nervously and pointed up at the sign.

‍

‘I would come with you but I have to take Victor straight to the Rightworld.’

‍

‘I understand,’ Luz replied, her voice shaking slightly.

‍

‘Just remember, it is just a nightmare that you will wake up out of as soon as she does.’

‍

Luz nodded and turned reluctantly down the path to the left.    

‍

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

‍

The path to the Leftworld was so narrow that Luz had to walk sideways.  Thorn bushes lined the sides and spiked her dress as she passed.  When she reached the open gates, her eyes followed them to the sky but there was none, just a black starless nothingness.  She lost her footing and turned to see that she was teetering on the edge of a cliff with nothing behind and no horizon - a valley of darkness. Shrieks and screams came from inside, belonging to the beasts that only exist in nightmares and she tried to quieten her heart as it hammered against her chest.  At least, she reasoned, if her Otherhalf was in there, then part of her was already inside and she had visited this place before in her nightmares.

‍

She stepped over the threshold and into a path that squirmed and wriggled beneath her feet. It was a writhing mass of snakes, centipedes and creepy crawlies - a familiar nightmare.  As she went further down the path, she saw that either side was full of junk and it was only on closer inspection that she realised that they were the ingredients of her nightmares, fragments of her fears.  She realised this was what her Otherhalf lived through while she was in the relative safety of her bed and promised herself never to be afraid of nightmares again.  Beds sinking into quicksand, wingless birds drowning in mud and feathers of pillows shot in the air, the face of her brother crying tears of blood and, somewhere in the distance, a bell chimed.  Behind her, she heard the familiar roll of a giant ball that was tumbling after her down the path, threatening to knock down the very foundations of her being.

‍

Luz picked up her feet and ran, not from or to anything, but just for the pure action of running in a place where she did not know what else to do.  As her feet pounded against the sharp gravel and splashed through the swamps, her slippers gone and her nightdress shredded from thorns, she realised what she had to do.  She opened her mouth and screamed the air out of her lungs as she cried her own name.

‍

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

‍

When Luz woke again on the moss pillow, she knew from the delicate aroma of the air, the cheerful intonations of the wind and the bold shapes of the Stratocumulus that the day was at peace with itself.  From the state of her nightdress and her bare feet, she assumed that she must have sleepwalked further than usual.  As she lifted herself to her feet, she felt something in her pocket and, putting her hands inside, pulled out a small pink and white paper bag, just like the ones that sweets come in.

‍

‍