Chapter Five

After Luke dropped me off, I washed my face in the upstairs bathroom. With water droplets clinging to my chin, I stared at myself in the mirror, at the face so like Mom’s, with its olive tone and oval shape, and at the hair so like hers, with its silvery blonde strands cutting swathes through the dark brown.

What was I? What had she been?

My mind reeled as I weaved into my bedroom and collapsed on the bed. I’d almost gone into my mural—and Aunt Karen knew what I could do. She’d known all along. My whole life was a lie. A mix of anguish and disbelief hung over me like the dark ribbons of fog that curled off the coast.

I wanted to talk to Nick. I needed to hear his voice reassuring me, feel his comforting arms around me. And if I could find him… If I could get him back, I’d make that dream a reality.

Weighed down by an emotional and physical exhaustion that seeped into every bone, I sank under the covers. After a while, I drifted into a broken sleep that was plagued with disturbing visions of Mom and Nick, their flesh melting into pools as the fire ravaged them with amorphous hands.

I woke, gasping for air. When my heart rate finally slowed, I checked my cell. Aunt Karen had texted me her flight info. She was due to arrive soon.

I got up to monitor the driveway from my window seat. The sun was a golden disc that burned through wispy clouds streaked with blue. While I watched some kids run down the street, their giddy shouts carried on the wind, I thought of my mother. Why hadn’t she told me how freakishly dangerous I was? How could she have ever trusted me around other people, knowing I had this ability?

When the Corolla pulled in the driveway, I flew down the stairs and flung open the door just as my aunt reached the front stoop. She lifted her head, her forehead creased with concern. “Julia, what—?”

I didn’t give her a chance to finish. “Am I some kind of witch?” I blurted.

Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times. Then she shook her head. “Not here. Inside.”

I moved aside so she could enter the house. As soon as she put her bag down, she grabbed my hand and pulled me into the living room. “Let’s sit down.”

I perched on the edge of the sofa. She sat beside me, keeping my hand in hers. It was cool to the touch, despite the warm afternoon.

“Just tell me,” I pleaded. “What was Mom? What am I?”

“Julia, did you…?” My aunt took a deep breath. Fear was written all over her face. “Did you try to go into the mural after I talked to you?”

“No. I—I think I could’ve gone in, but I waited for you.”

“Good. That’s good. The thing is, honey, none of this was supposed to happen.”

“Stop avoiding the question.” I snatched my hand away. “Just tell me what I am! For God’s sake, Aunt Karen, I was inside a van Gogh painting!”

Her eyes widened, no doubt stunned because I’d never yelled at her before. When she spoke, her own voice was soft and shaky in comparison. “Yes, you’re a kind of witch. A Vista witch.”

“A what?”

“A Vista,” she repeated. “You have the power to open doorways into pictures or paintings. And once a doorway is open, it takes whoever is near and pulls them right in. You don’t need to be in close proximity to the actual picture to open it, but the closer you are, the easier it is to access. You just have to know it exists and you can create a door.”

“Like a portal?”

“You can think of it like that. Usually Vistas will conjure an opening to whatever picture they last saw—or one that’s been on their mind. It can be anything that was created by an artist’s hand.”

Which explained why I’d created a portal to van Gogh’s painting, having been looking at it on the Internet a couple of days before, and why Mom had opened a door to my mural. She and I had talked about it the day before the fire.

A dull, throbbing sensation wound around my head, squeezing it like an elastic band. “This can’t be happening.”

“You come from a long line of Vistas, Julia. Your mom was one and so was your maternal grandfather.”

I sat stock-still, staring at her with my mouth hanging open. “Oh my God,” I said when I was finally able to speak again, “this thing runs in our family?”

“Yes. Your grandfather’s fear during the mine explosion made him open up a portal and a couple of the miners went through.”

“So those stories were true?”

She nodded. “Everyday stresses and frustrations aren’t normally strong enough to bring on a Vista’s power. It has to be triggered by extreme emotions.”

“Yeah, I found that out the hard way,” I muttered.

She gave me a sympathetic smile before continuing. “When you were born, your mother didn’t know for sure if you were a Vista. Sometimes the ability to create doors doesn’t show up until the person is older, and sometimes it skips a generation. But it’s only ever a firstborn who inherits the magic.”

“So that’s why you didn’t become one.”

“Right. Anyway, she knew for sure you were one when you got so mad at the Mercer boy that you opened a painting.”

The blood drained from my face. “So it really happened? Luke was telling the truth?”

She nodded, looking deathly pale herself. “You’d just found out about your dad’s accident. You were upset and confused, and Luke? Well, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“At first I thought it was some sick joke, but then I went into that poppy field and…” My voice grew thick. “And I feel like I’m losing it.”

“That’s because you’re not wearing the locket anymore.”

My hand flew to the hollow of my throat, my breath hitching. “What did the locket do?”

Aunt Karen glanced down at her hands, twisted together in her lap. When she lifted her head again, her eyes were dark with worry. “It was charmed to suppress strong emotions in whoever wears it. Your mom used to wear it, to control her own magic, but after the incident with Luke, she thought it was better for you to have its protection instead. The spell on the locket was designed so that the wearer is drawn to it and never wants to take it off. So…it was a struggle for your mom to give it up, but she knew it was the right thing to do.”

I sprang from the sofa and looked at my aunt in horror. “She…the…” I sputtered, unable to form a coherent thought. “I’ve been controlled by a piece of jewelry almost my whole life? Everything I’ve thought and felt—or didn’t feel—has been a lie?”

“No, of course not—”

“It feels like it!”

“The locket only restrained your most extreme emotions. You were still able to feel things.”

“Just not the most important things, right? That’s why I couldn’t cry after the fire.” The thought of having my free will taken away caused a wave of bitterness to roll over me. “How could Mom do that to me?”

“Please, Julia, you can’t get upset.”

But heat flooded my face and my throat burned with the sharp taste of resentment. “Well, excuse me if I don’t know how to keep from getting upset. Apparently, I was never given the chance to learn that skill on my own!”

Aunt Karen crossed to me and put her hands on my shoulders. She held my gaze, her eyes pleading with me. “You have to use the techniques your mother used to control her feelings—deep breaths, counting to ten and things like that. I know she mentioned them to you. Please,” she repeated. “You know by now how dangerous your emotions are.”

I knew she was right. I had no desire to open a portal again, at least, not until I was ready to go after Nick. I inhaled and exhaled several times, and eventually my anger began to dissipate like the slow leak of air from a balloon. When I’d gained some semblance of composure, Aunt Karen walked to the kitchen and gestured for me to follow.

“Sit down,” she said. “I’ll make you some herbal tea. It’ll help settle your nerves.”

I opened my mouth to argue that all the tea in China couldn’t help me now, but she was still talking as she put the kettle on.

“You have to understand, honey. Your mom gave you the necklace for protection, so you wouldn’t hurt yourself or other people. She didn’t make the decision lightly. She did it because it was necessary. And it worked, just like it’d worked for her. It kept your strongest emotions at bay and your magic was never triggered again.”

“Until I lost the locket.”

“Yes. When the locket came off, the protection was gone. Without it, you were able to feel the full extent of your grief.”

Yeah, I’d felt it all right. It’d struck me like a sucker punch in the gut. “And what about my memory of the thing with Luke when I was a kid? Did it take that away, too?”

“I think it’s possible. Memories are tied to emotions, so the locket may have repressed that, too.” She shot me a glance as she set mugs on the counter. “If that’s the case, don’t be surprised if the memory of that day starts to come back to you.”

“Actually, I think part of it already has.” I told her about seeing the bear fly through the air, and how the image matched what Luke had told me. “He also said Mom was close to finding a way to get rid of the Vista magic forever. Is that true? Is there something more permanent than the locket?”

Aunt Karen shook her head. “Not that I know of. She didn’t mention anything to me.”

I massaged my forehead. “Maybe he was lying about it then.”

“And what else did he say?” she asked. “What does he know about the fire?”

“He said it was a grease fire in the kitchen. But that doesn’t make sense. Mom wouldn’t have been cooking.”

“Julia…” Aunt Karen shut the cupboard door very slowly and turned around. “I don’t know if that’s true or not. But I think I might know how the fire got out of control so fast.”

“How?”

“Well, the force of opening a portal can cause a shift in the elements surrounding it, making them worse. For instance, if a Vista conjured a door in a place where a light rain is falling, the rain will become a torrential downpour. Or if there are flames, the fire will spread much more quickly than it would otherwise. It would’ve been so powerful that not even the opening to your winter mural could cool it. And the longer the fire went on, the more intense the heat.” She paused. “That could explain why the human remains were destroyed beyond recognition.”

I swallowed. I didn’t want to think about what had happened to Mom’s body as the fire wore on. “So, what you’re saying is that by using her magic, Mom made the fire worse? Why didn’t she just drag Nick out when she could? Why did she have to send him into the mural at all?”

Aunt Karen sighed. “Because she was being led by her emotions. If she was terrified, her automatic response would be to create the door. That’s how the magic works. Isn’t that what you experienced with the poppy field?”

“Yeah, I guess. I started crying and couldn’t stop…and that bubble was just there.” I pushed at my hair, struggling to get my breathing under control again. “How can you even call it magic? It’s more like a curse.”

“Your mother agreed with you,” my aunt said with a grim smile as she brought the mugs over to the table.

“It’s not right.” My voice was a fierce whisper now. “She should’ve had something to protect her, too. Why didn’t she charm another necklace or something after she gave me hers?”

“Oh, she didn’t charm the necklace. Vistas aren’t that kind of witch. They only have the power to open worlds, not write spells or anything like that. But years before, your mom had tracked down a witch who could charm objects. The problem was that your mom couldn’t find the witch when she needed her again. So she did the best she could. She had to work on containing her emotions. She had actually become pretty good at it.”

My heart beat a mile a minute as I tried to process this new information. Charmed objects, witches… I wrapped my hands around the mug to stop them from shaking. “When exactly did she have the locket charmed?”

“She was about your age. When we were growing up, our parents told us all these stories about the Vistas in our family who’d opened portals. And because they knew Charlotte had the potential for the same kind of magic, they constantly warned her about letting her emotions get out of control.” My aunt stared out of the window at the afternoon sun, her eyes taking on a faraway look. “But they not only warned her, they also tried to protect her.”

“How?”

“By keeping a close watch on her, giving her a strict curfew, forbidding her to do certain activities or hang around with anyone they thought could be a bad influence. But it backfired. Charlotte started to resent them, said they were stifling her. Things were strained between them. Then one night, things came to a head.” Aunt Karen grimaced. “When Charlotte was your age, she snuck out to a college party and didn’t come home until three in the morning.”

I raised my eyebrows. Mom sneaking out to a party? It sounded so unlike her. “I’m guessing that was way past curfew.”

“It was. Mom and Dad grounded her for a month and all the anger and resentment Charlotte had been holding in just burst out of her.”

“Oh my God,” I whispered. “She opened a picture?”

“A movie poster. It was for some awful B movie called Dark Stones. Mom and Dad were sucked right into it.”

I let out a sound that was a cross between a gasp and a laugh. It was bizarre to imagine Mom as a rebellious teen who’d transported her own parents.

“It’s true. Good thing for Dad that he knew how to get back out.”

“This is unbelievable.” I shook my head, dazed.

“And after that, Charlotte was so freaked out by what she’d done that she was willing to do anything to make her power go away. So she found the witch and asked her to create a spell.”

“But why didn’t she tell me any of this?”

“She didn’t want to handle you with kid gloves, like our parents did with her. By harping on the dangers of emotions like they did, they’d made things worse. Besides, the locket was containing your magic, and she just thought you’d be better off not knowing—and not remembering what happened with Luke.”

“And she didn’t see a problem with me wanting to become an artist?” I snorted. “Seems to be the worst possible profession for someone who can open pictures.”

“Not as long as you had the necklace. And she made sure you did. You were drawn to wearing it, as per the spell, so she knew you’d be safe.” Aunt Karen reached over and squeezed my arm. “I think subconsciously you were using art as a way to express the emotions that the locket was filtering.”

I frowned. “But at the same time creating something that could be used as a portal. Kind of a catch-22, isn’t it?”

“Julia—”

“I can’t believe you guys kept me in the dark all my life.” My heart beat a loud, staccato rhythm in my chest. “And that I had to find out what I am from some juvenile delinquent who’s practically threatening to hurt me if I don’t rescue his father—who, by the way, has it in for me!”

“Julia, look at me.”

I did as she asked. Her green eyes were earnest. “Your mother did the best she could. After you had the locket, you became such a calm, easy-going child. Your magic was under control, and you were able to enjoy life without being burdened by it, not having to think about it all the time like she did when she was growing up. She wanted things to be different for you. And as for Tom Mercer? He seemed to be a thing of the past too. It didn’t occur to her that he would come threatening her years later.”

I pushed at my tangled hair with a frustrated sigh. “Well, Luke is determined to make my life a living hell until I get his father back. But I can deal with him. I just want Nick back.” I took a deep breath. “Do you think Mom really sent him into the mural?”

“It’s possible.” She gave me a small, rueful smile. “We’re talking about the girl who sent her own parents into a Dark Stones poster. And if she was trying to save Nick, it could’ve happened.”

I shook my head. “It’s so weird to think of Mom losing her cool.”

Aunt Karen’s smile widened just a little. “She had lots of practice controlling herself. To me, it sounds like her magic was triggered when Tom Mercer paid her a visit.”

“Why didn’t she bring him back out of the mural after she sent him in?”

“I don’t know. Maybe she didn’t have a chance.”

“There’s no sign of either of them being in there, though. Like, I can’t see them in the painting.”

“No,” Aunt Karen said. “And you wouldn’t. That’s not how it works. If someone goes through a door into the world of a painting, they don’t just appear in it, because the artist didn’t create them. So everything will still look the same from the outside. But there’s something more important you need to know.” Her sombre eyes met mine. “Once the mural is painted over, your magic won’t be strong enough to open a door out of it. The painting will go dark. Nobody inside will be able to survive.”

My frustration melted away, replaced by a fear so cold it chilled me to the bone. “Then I’ll do anything to get them back before that happens. What are these other consequences you were talking about?”

“As a Vista, you’re immune to the magic inside the world of a picture. But if Nick and Tom are trapped in the painting…they won’t be themselves.” Aunt Karen watched me intently. “They might believe they actually belong in there. And if they do, you can’t open up a portal and send them back to the real world until they remember who they are.”

“What? Why?”

She bit her lip. “They won’t survive the journey home. That’s what happened when your Great-Grandmother Edna accidentally transported herself and her younger brother Cecil into a painting. When she tried to send him back out through a portal before he remembered who he was, he died. It was as if Cecil had become part of the painting and trying to take him out of it killed him.”

My voice came out hoarse and ragged. “You can’t be serious. That’s totally screwed up.” I swallowed. “Okay, so when Nick sees me, he’ll remember. Or I’ll remind him who he is.”

She gave a solemn nod. “You can, but a memory trigger will probably work better.”

“A memory trigger?” I echoed.

“Like a personal item, something that reminds the person of home, a memento of some kind…anything to keep them grounded and keep their memories intact. Dad discovered the power of personal objects as memory triggers when he and Mom got sucked into Dark Stones. Mom forgot who she was, so he tried to get her to remember by giving her back her wedding ring. He had it in his pocket, had taken it to get cleaned. Not long after, she was herself again.”

“If Nick had his wallet with him, would that help him?”

“It would. And I hope that he did. But just in case, you should bring a memory trigger for Nick. And Luke will need to get one for Tom, too. Each person needs their own trigger because it has to be personal to them, and they each need to hold on to the item for it to work.”

“And these items will help them remember who they are?”

“They should. But I don’t know how long it will take. If they’ve been in there for two months, the mural has had time to affect them.” Her eyes, dead serious, fixed on mine. “They have to have the trigger with them at all times. You can’t risk that they’ll forget again.”

I took a long gulp of tea to wet my dry throat. “And so…I can open up a door to the mural from anywhere?”

“You can, but like I said, it’s easier to access if you’re right in front of it.” She got to her feet and came over to brush her hand over my hair. “And I’m going to come with you. I’ll help you any way I can.”

The pager clipped to her belt vibrated. “I have to call the hospital. Be right back.” She went out into the hall. I heard her talking on the phone in surprised tones. After a couple minutes, she reappeared in the doorway. “One of my patients has just been taken into emergency surgery. They need me at the hospital.”

“You can’t go now. You just got home. Can’t someone cover for you?”

“Sorry, Jules. We’re short-staffed as it is. But we’ll go as soon as I get back, I promise.”

My bottom lip quivered. “I have to know if he’s alive, Aunt Karen.”

“I know.” She gripped me with hands that were as cold as my own. “Don’t do anything without me. I’ll come home as soon as I can, and we’ll go face this together. Just try to keep calm, okay?”

Easy for you to say. I watched her hurry from the kitchen, a shiver running through me.

Once she was gone, I went upstairs to take a shower. I stood under the hot spray, letting it beat down on my head and body. When I got out, some warmth had returned to my extremities, but my insides were still cold with dread.

After I was dressed again, I paced in front of my bed, chewing on my lip. I didn’t know how long Aunt Karen was going to be, but I wanted to be ready when she got back. And that meant finding a memory trigger for Nick.

It didn’t take me long to think of one.

I took out Mom’s album and located the picture of me, Mom and Nick on the night of the junior high graduation. This time when I looked at it, something like hope bubbled up inside of me, nudging aside the dark shadows of grief.

My attention shifted to the centre of the photo, where the locket hung around my neck, its heart-shaped pendent resting just above the neckline of my dress. The silver chain glinted in the June sun.

With an ache rising in my throat, I quickly tucked the photograph into my jeans’ pocket. All this time I’d been under the spell of that locket and never known. Now I understood why Mom had given it to me—and why I’d never wanted to take it off. But the idea that my feelings had been manipulated for so long made my skin crawl.

Don’t think about that now. Just focus on Nick.

I hoped against hope that he had his wallet in his pocket when he went into the mural. I’d given it to him last Valentine’s Day, the day we had the house all to ourselves.

After we exchanged gifts, we’d fallen into an embrace—an embrace that had grown heated as our kisses deepened. Eventually articles of clothing came off, and he laid me back on the sofa. But when he paused with his hand tangled in my dishevelled hair and asked me if I was sure I wanted to keep going, I’d hesitated. That’d been enough to make him stop.

At the time, I had been relieved because I was scared to go all the way. I wanted to wait. Since the fire, I’d regretted my decision. If I’d known there wouldn’t be another chance for us, I—

My cell phone rang, making me jump a mile. I snatched it up without looking at the caller ID. “Aunt Karen?” I said, breathless.

“No, Julia, it’s Jennifer. Jennifer Sampson. We spoke the other day?”

Disappointment coursed through me. “Oh, hi, Jennifer.”

“I’m calling because I wanted to keep you in the loop about your mural. I know I told you it wasn’t going to be painted over until next week, but there’s been a change in plans.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the head judge, Mr. Marsten, has some family business to attend to next week, so he wants to move up the contest date, which means your mural is going be painted over sooner than we expected, to make way for the new one.”

I swallowed. “How much sooner?”

“Well, it depends on the weather, but it looks like it’ll be tomorrow or the next day.”

In the blink of an eye, the disappointment turned to panic. It clawed at my throat in the form of a barely stifled scream. “No,” I gasped. “That’s way too soon. Please—”

“I’m sorry, dear. But at least you still have a chance to go visit it one last time. I don’t mean to cut this short, but I’ve got another call coming in. Thanks again for giving the city such a beautiful painting.”

“But, Jennifer—”

“Bye, Julia.” She hung up.

I stared at the phone, stunned that she’d been so determined to get rid of me. But that was the least of my problems. Dread quivered in my belly. In the next couple of days, the mural would be gone–and Nick with it. We had to go in there now.

My hands trembled as I called the hospital’s surgical ward. When I asked the nurse if my aunt had left the hospital yet, she told me Karen wasn’t expected to be out of surgery for a couple more hours.

My heart plummeted. What if a couple hours turned into several? Or my aunt got out of surgery then got pulled onto another case? That kind of thing happened enough for me to know that it was a definite possibility. By the time she got home, it could be morning—and it might be too late for Nick.

Suddenly every second counted.

With the dread turning into adrenaline that pumped furiously through my veins, I called Luke.

“Well, Princess,” he said when he answered, “I’ve waited long enough. What’s the deal? You ready to bring my old man back yet or what?”

I’d waited long enough, too. If Nick had survived, I was ready to do whatever it took to bring him home before the mural was gone forever.

“Yeah,” I replied, my voice sounding a lot steadier than I felt. “I need you to pick me up right now. We’re going back to the mural. Oh, and, Luke? Bring something that belonged to your father.”

* * * *

Less than an hour later, we stood in front of the mural. The evening sun played over the cottages, giving their red and brown façades a soft golden glow. The fir trees stood out in sharp definition, their silver-green branches sparkling like diamonds. And all throughout the painting, the pure white snow glistened wherever it lay—draped over gently sloping hills, cutting swathes around the buildings or wrapped around the outlying mountains like a shimmery veil.

“So,” Luke said, eyebrows raised, “do your little magic.”

In the car ride over, I’d briefly explained what my aunt had told me about doorways into paintings and what I needed to do. But we’d arrived at the wall before I’d gotten a chance to explain what Luke’s role was going to be. He was the last person I wanted as a wingman, but I didn’t have much choice.

“I will,” I said. Now that I was here, facing what was essentially my door to another realm, my voice did falter a little. “I’m going to go in there and send them back out when I’m sure they remember who they are. I need you to stay here and wait for me, no matter how long it takes.”

He turned his blue eyes on me, skeptical. “You want me to wait here the whole time?”

“Just make sure no one’s hanging around to see the mural open. If anyone comes along, make something up and get them out of here.”

“Fine,” he said, taking his lighter and a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his leather jacket. “And you just make sure you bring the old man out in one piece.”

I felt inside my pocket for the photograph, then fingered the military dog tags that hung around my neck. According to Luke, his dad had worn them when he served with the Canadian Armed Forces in Afghanistan.

“By the way,” I said, “Aunt Karen didn’t know anything about a secret way to get rid of the Vista magic forever.”

Luke looked at me for several seconds without saying anything, his expression inscrutable. “Well, your mom found a way. And the sooner you get my dad out, the sooner I’ll tell you what it is.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. I hoped it was true, that there really was a way to get rid of this crazy ability without bottling up my emotions, but I’d have to think about that later. Finding Nick was the most important thing right now.

“Okay, here goes nothing.” Taking a deep breath, I faced the mural.

“You need help with the emotional crap again?” Having lit up, he pocketed the lighter and cigarettes and smirked at me.

“Ha ha. I think I can manage on my own, thanks. No locket to hold back my emotions anymore,” I added in a mutter.

“Locket?”

I sighed. I hadn’t really wanted to get into it. “Yeah. The silver heart I used to wear before I lost it. It’s what was blocking my feelings.”

“Huh… Weird.”

“Now stand back, unless you want to get sucked in, too. Actually, better yet, go on up the street, just to be safe.”

“Whatever,” he said, blowing out a ring of smoke that sent me into a coughing fit. I waved a hand in front of my face, glaring at him as he walked away.

Then I closed my eyes and began to focus on the emotions swirling inside of me.

“Hey, Princess,” Luke called.

I opened my eyes. “What the hell, Luke! You need to be quiet.”

He stood about fifteen feet away, his eyes narrowed at me. “I don’t think so. Last time pissing you off got the job done quickly—or it would’ve if your aunt hadn’t called. So, while I’m sure it’d be fascinating to watch you do this on your own, I think it works better if I call the shots.” He flicked his cigarette on the sidewalk, ground it under the heel of his boot and smiled that cool smile of his. “Let’s talk about your mother.”

“Luke,” I said in a warning voice.

“No, no… This will be good, a quick way to get you going. I want to tell you how she looked in the fire. I mean, it was nasty. Her hair was all singed and her skin had blisters. She had like flames literally burning through her shirt. And her face, oh man, it was all twisted and red. She looked kinda like a monster, you know?”

“You’re making that up.”

He shrugged. “Does it matter if I am? You’re getting pissed off, aren’t you? And don’t tell me you haven’t imagined it before. You must’ve thought about it over and over, picturing the pain she went through. Am I right?”

“Shut up. Just shut up!”

“What do you think was worse, the pain she felt as she burned to death…or how Nick felt when he realized he wasn’t in Kansas anymore?”

“Stop it!” I yelled, clamping my hands to my ears.

“Oh, you’re going to hear this. I want to ask you something else. What’re you going to do if you get in that mural only to find that loverboy didn’t survive?”

My head pounded. Waves of red-hot anger rolled through me. I hated Luke for being in my house that day. I wanted him to go away so I could find Nick. The emotion crested over me, strong and suffocating.

My eyes closed of their own volition.

The warmth of the autumn sun faded and the air grew chill. A biting wind stung my face. My head drummed with pain and a loud whooshing sound assaulted my ears.

When I was able to open my eyes again, my mural was shimmering.

It shimmered like the bubble in my room, only this one was much wider, running the full length of the mural, and it was even brighter. The colors of the paints moved in a frenzied dance that burned my eyes. Then they stopped moving, and I was looking through a window to the village I’d created.

My painting had come to life…and so had the vortex that wanted to pull me into it. It was even stronger than the one in my room, knocking the wind out of me and carrying me up into a dizzying whirlpool. I tumbled through the air, faster and faster, tossed like a rag doll in a washing machine.

And an instant later, I was inside the mural.