The End of the World (Tales from the Tarot)

2. Chapter 2

Chapter two

A sh’s body clock was so out of alignment he fell asleep on his childhood bed before Willow served dinner and then woke up as she was heading to bed.

“Jet lag’s a killer,” Willow said as she passed him in the hallway. “There’s a plate of dinner for you in the microwave. Are you up for some community work tomorrow? I said I’d help with cleaning up.”

“You don’t have work?” Ash was stuck, staring at an old photo he’d seen countless times but never really noticed. It was their parents on their wedding day. Willow had grown into the spitting image of their mother.

“No. Well, I should but I took some time off on account of my baby brother coming back. I only do part time anyway, these days.”

He tore his eyes from the picture and gave Willow a smile. “Thanks. I’ll, yeah if I’m awake I’d like to come along.”

“Cool. I’m heading to bed. See you in the morning.” She patted his shoulder and disappeared into the master bedroom. It had been their parents’ room, the last time he was here. He wondered what had happened to her old room. Probably Charli’s.

He made his way down the worn wooden staircase to the kitchen, studying the pictures on the walls as if in an art gallery in Paris.

They weren’t all the same as when he’d been a kid. The family portraits and images of his grandparents were still there, but someone had blown up and framed a photo of him standing beneath the Torii gates in Kyoto, looking upwards. He hadn’t even learned the name of the stranger who’d taken the picture, but it had been the avatar image on his Instagram ever since. Another addition was a picture of Willow and Charli, outside some DOC hut in the middle of lush bush.

In the kitchen, he heated up the leftovers, lasagne and a bread roll, and found a salad in the fridge to go with it. He sat at the kitchen table, the same one he’d sat at to paint pictures, or do his homework, and ate.

He’d never been alone like this in the kitchen as a kid. Someone was always making a cup of tea or preparing the next meal. Someone else coming through. Now the room felt decidedly empty with only him. He looked out the window feeling for a moment like the same kid.

Sure, he was older, taller, more worldly… but he didn’t feel any wiser. He had no idea what the future held, just like he’d felt when he was seven years old.

It was a worrying and demoralising thought. He was home, he’d felt it earlier. He was home and it was time to start a new life.

Wasn’t it?

Leave behind the backpack and the nomadic existence and make a future for himself, something stable…

But it didn’t feel right at all. Ash felt more lost than ever.

If coming home wasn’t the thing to fill the restless hole in his chest, what did he need?

He finished up his dinner and most of the salad and didn’t taste any of it. The sensation of longing that felt like a hole in his chest. It had been quiet, nascent, while he travelled home. It was always quiet on planes.

But now?

It felt like he was made of void. A big nothingness in need of… something?

Travelling helped, that was why he’d travelled for so long.

His mother dying was the start. He had gone to her funeral, finished up the last of his university papers, sold all his things and left. He had grieved, he hadn’t bottled it up or ignored those feelings. He’d wept for her in a tiny chapel in the French countryside, at a temple in Shanghai, at the edge of the Grand Canyon and so many other places. He knew whatever had happened to her after her death, wherever she was, she would be proud of him chasing his dream the way he had.

She’d be proud of the following he’d built, and the articles he’d written. He was proud of himself, seeing all those things, thinking of her like he was taking her with them.

But although she was the start of it, Ash knew it wasn’t a ‘my mother died’ void. Her death had been the triggered something which had always been dormant inside him. Now it was open, and he had no idea how to close it again.

Travelling helped. But it hadn’t fixed it.

Ash groaned. Sick of being in his own head, he stacked his dishes in the dishwasher and went into the lounge to find something to distract him. He looked through the bookshelf. His mother’s old linen-bound copy of Anne of Green Gables, his father’s coffee-table books of cycling tracks and beautiful locations over the world. A handful of battered linen-bound books of his father’s which were stacked on top of the bookshelf, gathering dust. He had no idea what was in those, never had. On the lower shelves, an array of books which had to be Willow’s; books on parenting, on feminism, on ethical non-monogamy and horror paperbacks. He took one of the Josh Malerman titles off the shelf and sat on the couch. The couch was unfamiliar, but it was in the exact same place his parents had always had theirs situated.

He read a few pages but his mind wouldn’t shut up.

How useless a person was he? Over forty, all he’d done was travelled the world chasing a dream. Finding fleeting moments, but nothing permanent. And now? He had no idea what he even needed.

He turned on the TV and let his mind go fuzzy, watching a game show, and then a drama and then an infomercial until finally he falling asleep again.

He was in the alleyway again. A different spot this time. A yellow door was to the left of him, with a sign over it that read ‘ The Magic Shop ’ in red script.

Ash was tempted to turn the knob and see what was inside, but a more pressing matter tugged at him. Was the pink-haired man here again?

He looked one way up the alley and then the other. No one was in sight, although he heard movement and talking from the windows a floor up.

He picked a direction and started to walk. He tripped on a loose cobblestone and caught himself on the nearest wall. Heart thudding from the almost-fall, he watched his feet closely as he continued.

Something caught his attention up ahead and he saw the man. He was closer this time, and Ash could see more details of his clothes. He was dressed for a steampunk festival, with a white shirt, suspenders, striped pants that went to his knees and brown ankle boots. His hair was soft-looking, baby pink and falling over his eyes and ears. He was trying to open another door, one made of steel, riveted and probably bolted from the inside. He put his whole body into it, both hands on the handle and leaning back to try and wrench it open.

“It’s you…”

There were certainly better ways to address beautiful strangers in a weird dream landscape, but at the moment Ash couldn’t think of any other words.

The man blinked, let go of the door handle and turned to look at Ash. His eyes were single-lidded and bright brown, a sparkle in them. He was short. Maybe five foot four? He pushed a hand through his hair as he looked up into Ash’s eyes. “It’s you! I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

Ash swallowed. “What is this place?”

The pink-haired man shook his head, making his soft pink hair fly about. Were his ears pointed? “I need your help.”

“My help?” Ash pointed at his own chest. This man must be confused.

“Yes, you.” The pink-haired man stepped towards him.

Ash moved forward too. It felt natural. “But you don’t even know me, and I have a void in my chest.” He had no idea why he’d said that, except he’d been thinking about it earlier in the evening. Why would he tell someone he didn’t even know about the void?

The pink-haired man tilted his head to one side. His eyes scrunched closed as he laughed—the most beautiful sound Ash had ever heard. “Silly! I can see that!”

Ash looked down at himself and yes, there was a big gaping hole where his shirt should be. He still had the outline of a shirt, and his arms and shoulders felt fine, but there was just… nothingness in between.

“I... I can’t usually see it,” Ash mumbled.

“It’s fine.” The pink-haired man stepped closer, reaching towards Ash like he was going to cup his cheek. It was an intimate gesture, but it felt like the most natural thing in the world to Ash who leaned in, anticipating the touch.

“Listen, this is very important. I need you to—”

Something crashed nearby.

Ash startled awake.

In the kitchen he heard Willow’s voice. “Shit, shit. Sorry, Ashy!”

“Are you okay?” He sat up from the couch and turned off the TV.

“I’m good, I’m a klutz!”

Ash rubbed his chest as he stood up. The image of the hole in his chest lingering only slightly less than the beauty of the pink-haired man’s face. He’d said he needed his help, he’d been about to say what Ash could do and now… this. It was morning. He’d slept on the couch.

Groaning, Ash made his way into the kitchen.

Willow was picking up mixing bowls and cooking utensils from the floor.

“What happened?”

“I nudged the dishrack and they all just went flying. Probably I stacked them too high again.” She set the pile on the kitchen bench and shook her head. “Sorry for the noise. You looked out cold.”

“I was. Weird dream. Have you ever had the same dream, or like… a continuation of a dream over multiple nights?”

Willow considered, turning to pour herself a cup of tea. “I’ve had recurring nightmares if that’s what you mean? Ever since we saw Jurassic Park way back in the day, I’ve dreamed velociraptors are after me.”

“No, more like…” Ash found the bread (in the ancient wooden breadbox of course) and put some into the toaster. “Like you’re in the exact same place, and the same person is there, and they remember you from last time?”

“Mm. No, never. My dreams are more a weird combination of boring everyday life and surprise velociraptors.”

Ash snorted. “Maybe it’s the jet lag but my dreams have been very weird.”

“Probably.”

“I keep on visiting this specific place, and there’s a guy there. I want to go back, explore it, see who this guy is, but I’m always woken up too soon.” He leaned back on the bench and folded his arms, waiting for the toast to pop.

Willow eyed him, sipping her tea. “That’s well, kind of obvious, isn’t it? You’re home for the first time in a long while and your brain is rankling at it.”

Ash frowned. “Maybe.”

“Or you just have trained your brain so well to move on it’s already doing it for you?”

He looked up at her, sensing bitterness, but her expression was bland. Maybe there was a sharpness in her eyes, but she didn’t mean it cruelly. She was trying to help.

“How can I go somewhere that doesn’t exist, anyway? Thanks a lot, brain.”

“You up for some going out and doing hard physical labour?”

Ash sighed. He didn’t much want to, but it was better than sitting at home and spiralling about the hole in his chest like he had last night.

“Yeah. Can’t guarantee I’ll stay awake all day, but I’ll give it a go.”

“That’s the spirit.”

The drive to the affected streets wasn’t long at all, maybe ten minutes, but Ash could see the change in the atmosphere. The grass was swamped, the roads caked with dry mud and fallen leaves. Berms were stacked with rolled up carpets and broken furniture. There were people bringing more things to add to the pile. He caught sight of a young teenager, dumping a stack of sodden paperbacks. Ash’s heart ached for these people.

“How much warning was there?” He asked, his eye caught by a waterlogged teddy bear sitting on top of a pile. He snapped a picture of it. “A day or so, but people didn’t know how bad it would be, not really, even with the other storms we’ve had lately. It was just so much rain. We didn't know where it would hit the hardest or for how long, you know?”

“Right.”

“These storms, they’re punishing. No other word for it.” Willow sighed as they pulled in beside a house which was at the bottom of a driveway. “We were working here yesterday too. The family stayed upstairs and were safe but the whole bottom floor, garage, the entire garden is mud.”

“Fuck.”

“That’s why we’re here.”

“Is there somewhere people could donate? I’ll make a post about it, some of my followers will want to pitch in.”

“Yeah, just a sec.” Willow tapped on her phone and a link came through to Ash in a chat app.

Big storms from #climatechange have messed up a lot of houses in Tamaki Makaurau (Auckland). If you have spare change please send it to the following link — lots of clean up being done by community volunteers, including yours truly. #savetheplanet #mutualaid

As they got out of the car, Willow handed him a pair of rubber gloves. “You’ll need these.”

A small but enthusiastic group of volunteers greeted Willow like old friends. She introduced Ash around. His mind was still fuzzy from jet lag but he could have sworn most of them were called Barry or Joyce.

He was set to work gathering debris from the garden and putting it into a huge flexi-bin for collection. It was simple work. Before long he was sweating. He pulled one of his vast collection of bandannas out of his cargo pocket and tied it around his head. Having his hair off his face made a difference.

It felt good to work his body after so long sitting on planes, but after a couple of hours his back started to hurt. Probably shouldn’t have slept on the couch. He managed a half-hour more before he was yawning so hard his jaw clicked.

He found Willow overseeing the sorting of waterlogged goods from the garage. “Wills, can I have the car keys? I need a nap.”

“You could use the couch upstairs,” she said.

Ash shrugged. “I don’t want to be in anyone’s way.”

She eyed his long legs and frame and nodded, digging out the keys and handing them to him. “Make sure and crack a window and move the car into the shade if you get hot.”

“Thanks.” He peeled off the rubber gloves and went back up the drive to where they’d parked. The car was the partial shade of a tree, so he got in the passenger side, reclined the seat back as far as it would go and wound down a window. He was out as soon as he rested his head.

The pink-haired man ran towards him. The man skidded to a stop and ran a hand through his hair, a nervous tic perhaps? The alleyway was beginning to smell familiar.

“Where do you keep going? It’s very frustrating.”

“Uh…” Ash looked around. “Isn’t this a dream?”

The pink-haired man tilted his head to one side. “Is it? It isn’t for me.”

Ash wasn’t usually quite this lucid when he dreamed, so he seized his opportunity. “What is this place?”

“It’s the alleyway, it’s a connection nexus.”

Ash narrowed his eyes. “Uh. right, sure.” He held out his hand. “I’m Ash.”

The pink-haired man looked at his hand in confusion, patted it once with his own hand and then looked up at him with a dazzling smile. “I’m Hallow of the Lonely Forest.”

“Hallow?” Ash dropped his hand again.

“Yes, Hallow.”

“Cool name. Where’s the Lonely Forest?”

Looking over his shoulder, Hallow’s eyes widened. He grabbed Ash by the wrist. “We have to run, now!” He started to run, dragging Ash with him.

Ash wasn’t the best of runners even when he was in training, and he certainly hadn’t been training for this. “What? Why?”

“No time.” Hallow ran lightly, barely making a sound on the cobbles.

From this angle, partially behind him, Ash saw a lump on his back, under his jacket. Weird, maybe he had a backpack on under there?

“This way!” Hallow turned down a small side alley, waved his free hand (the other was holding tight to Ash’s wrist) and a bright glittering orb appeared before them. Ash tried to stop running but Hallow’s grip on his wrist was far stronger than it ought to be for someone so slight looking.

“Come on!” Hallow tugged on Ash’s arm and leapt into the bright orb of light.

Ash fell through it, anchored by the tiny, forceful hand on his wrist.

Ash woke up, too warm, and with something heavy on his chest. He groaned, opening his eyes, to see two bright brown eyes blinking back at him, crowned with a fetching mop of baby pink hair.

“What the fucking hell?”

Ash tried to scramble away but the car seat wasn’t really made for scrambling. Hallow straddled him, breathless and panting, fully leaning on Ash’s chest. His hand gently let go of Ash’s wrist. “I… hello. I’m sorry about this. If there’d been time, I could have explained and asked if you minded me coming back with you and everything but The Quetch was right behind me, and there wasn’t time.”

“You’re here. Outside of my dream.” Ash’s voice was strained.

“Yes, but I sort of thought your world would be larger than this.” Hallow sat up, bracing one hand on Ash’s chest and promptly hit his head on the roof of the car. “How do you live like this?”

“I don’t.” Ash squeezed his arm out the window and opened the passenger side door. He needed Hallow off him, so he could breathe. “Go out that way?”

“Oh, a door, wonderful.” Hallow rolled off him and sprung out the door, far more nimbly than should have been possible.

Ash took a deep breath, grabbed the car keys from the driver’s side door and followed him out. “I don’t understand… any of this. I thought I was dreaming you.”

“Yes, you said.” Hallow was distracted, looking up and down the street and at the houses around them. “I see, there are lots of buildings and trees and things. But you live in this strange little box?” He turned back to tap the roof of the car with one small fist.

“No, I don’t live in it, I was napping. It’s how we get around, a form of transport.”

“Fascinating.” Hallow hummed. “So, which of these is your house?”

“None of them. I live a while off, which is why I needed a mode of transport. Listen, can you please explain to me how you popped into the real world from my dream? It’s like one of those weird wish-fulfilment novels or something.”

Hallow’s eyebrows jumped. He turned fully towards Ash. “Wish fulfilment? Did you wish for me? That’s forward of you, but you are very handsome… I’ll consider it. You said something weird before, about the real world?”

Ash flushed at Hallow’s words. He hadn’t meant it that way exactly, but now Hallow had brought it up, Ash was forced to admit to himself how handsome and alluring Hallow was. Insofar as Ash had a type, he wouldn’t have said Hallow fit it, but well. He had been on top of him seconds ago, and if it had lasted too much longer certain physical reactions would have occurred.

To set these thoughts aside, Ash seized on Hallow’s other question. “Yes, the real world. This one, the one we’re in right now, as opposed to the alley I’ve been dreaming about.”

Hallow shook his head. His ears were pointed. Ash saw it for sure this time. Under his candy-floss hair Hallow had pointed pixie ears. Costume ears? They had to be. Prosthetics of some kind. Why was he wearing them? Didn't matter.

“This is a real world, yes, but the alleyway is real too, as is my home, and countless other worlds.”

Another thing Ash couldn't quite understand. “Excuse me, are you saying the multiverse theory is real?”

Hallow arched an eyebrow and folded his arms. “Would you rather believe that you wished for me and I manifested out of your dreams?”

Ash’s vision swam and he clasped both hands over his eyes. “No. Yes? Maybe. this is a lot to take in.”

He took a deep breath. He had felt Hallow’s weight in his lap. He had felt warmth of his body. There was a scent in the air that hadn’t been there before, damp and warm, maybe touch of deep forest. This was real.

It wasn’t a dream. Hallow was actually there. He let it sink in for a long moment, struggling to accept the shift in reality.

He felt a small, gentle hand on his elbow. Hallow's voice was softer now. “Obviously, this is your first time dealing with all of this. I didn't realise and I could have been kinder about it. What else would you like to know?”

Ash dropped his hands and sighed, the sigh of someone who had no idea where to start with something so gigantic. Overwhelmed and not a bit frightened he gestured first at Hallow and then at the entire world. “It’s too much!”

“It’s all right.” Hallow took a quick step back.

Ash let out a moan of pure frustration with himself. Hallow had offered to answer questions. All Ash had to do was ask so he could better understand. Instead, he wanted to jump in the car and drive far, far away.

A book Ash had read popped into his head— Love for Imperfect Things, one of the most popular books in South Korea — a published collection of short social media posts written by a Buddhist monk. One particular entry resonated with Ash, discussing how people often want to fight difficult emotions, when what they should do is sit with them, give them some time. Then they would discover these emotions are teachers, friends that can show you something new.

He took a deep breath, imagining himself back at one of those temples and shrines. Throughout his travels in Korea, Japan and China, he’d visited so many temples, some tucked between skyscrapers in the middle of the city, others perched atop lonely mountains or placed within carefully tended gardens, each of them managing to feel serene somehow.

He imagined cherry blossoms blooming and the stone statues of the shrine guardians. Teachers, friends, he could handle this. He just had to accept his fear and his confusion and move forward. His shoulders relaxed. He hadn’t realised how much tension he’d been holding in there.

He opened his eyes and looked at Hallow. “So, okay. This is one of multiple worlds, yes?”

Hallow nodded, his mouth a straight line, his wide eyes. wary as if Ash was going to lash out.

“And I can somehow travel between these worlds while I sleep?”

“You can travel to the alleyway.” Hallow fidgeted with the hem of his jacket. “It’s a nexus, it connects lots of worlds, and it’s kind of a world of its own but largely it’s a place you pass through.”

“Like an airport!” Ash was relieved. He knew airports. “People work there, you can eat and shop and so on but for the most part people are using it to get from one place to another.”

“Sounds right although I don’t know what an airport is.”

“I dreamed myself to a multidimensional airport, and you’re from some other world and you were—” He stopped abruptly. Hallow had been running from something until this moment. “You were running.”

“Yes, from The Quetch.”

Ash licked his lips. “And what’s a Quetch?”

Hallow took on the air of one about to relay very bad news. “It’s a monster, it wants to kill me, and it’s blocked my way back to my own world.”

Ash forced another deep breath although that sentence hadn’t made him feel very zen at all. “When you say monster, you mean?”

Hallow held his arm up, flattening his fingers to indicate something far taller than he was. “Big, scary, powerful and unrelenting. Its face is… well, let’s hope you never have to see its face. The good news is because I used your dream to move to this realm, it shouldn’t be able to track me. It’ll be checking the doors, and I won’t have left a trail it can track.”

Ash swung his arms, trying to feel something normal. He ended up feeling awkward, which… well, that at least was normal. He crossed his arms again and looked at Hallow, trying to work out his next move. “Well, obviously you can hide here. I just don’t know how to explain you to my sister.”

“Sister?” Hallow smiled. “I’d like to meet her.”

“I’m staying with her. I’m guessing you’d like a bed and shelter, so you will be too. Maybe I’ll just say you’re a friend I met overseas somewhere, and you surprised me?”

Hallow nodded. “Yes, I’m a friend from over the seas.”

“We’ll see how long that works. And... we need to do something about how pointy your ears are.