Mirrored World

by Meghan Roos

Living in a small California town in the mid-1960s, Rebecca Gallagher and Riley Parker are two young playmates, neighbors, and best friends when they first see a mysterious light glowing from a dark grove within their neighborhood. More than a decade later, nearly every other factor in their lives has changed, and it seems the only things that have remained true are their unfaltering trust in each other and the existence of that same hidden light. Now, as one of the nation’s biggest political scandals of the century rushes into front-page newspaper articles and onto television screens across the globe, Rebecca and Riley encounter an unusual man who carries the keys to the past – and to their world’s future. In this whirlwind adventure encompassing two best friends’ race to the truth, Rebecca and Riley discover the shocking power time holds through its influence on history – and how one mistake can threaten to send the lives of an entire civilization into chaos.

978-1-61386-109-7

science fiction/mystery

Also available in RTF and HTML formats

Chapter 1

I suppose it was the year of 1963 when we first noticed it. The dark bushes clustered between two of the nearly twenty quaint little houses on our cul-de-sac always held a strange and mystical element for us kids; of course, no one dared enter the bushes further than a few feet at a time, for fear of what lived inside. The dirt and grime that was home to so many rodents and insects was no place for children to roam through at any rate, and since the paved road centered between the rows of houses was so flat and perfect for bouncing and kicking basketballs and soccer balls on, extensive exploration of the suburban jungle's depths was rarely necessary.

Our first sighting of the light came quite suddenly, and without warnings of any kind. On that day, my best friend Riley Parker and I were walking home from a rather exciting day of the third grade. Upon leaving our elementary school, the prospect of swinging our umbrellas back and forth and leaping through puddles--which was essentially a continuation of the school day's events--made us eager to get going. Yet with each step we took closer to home, the sky turned an uglier shade of gray as the storm that had plagued our town all day closed in for another visit. By the time we reached the end of our street, the rain was hammering down in thick, unapologetic sheets. As the wind whipped from side to side, we realized our umbrellas were virtually useless, but we clung to them and the dry concept they represented anyway as we trudged up the hill toward home.

This was in November of that year, and though harsh weather of any kind is rare in southern California, Riley and I did our fair share of shivering as the wind slipped its icy fingers up our coat sleeves and dribbled chilly raindrops down our necks. With the warm rectangular glow cast by my house's porch light finally in view, I rushed toward the doorsteps, thinking happily of the welcoming hearth that would be lit inside the house. But a strange note in Riley's voice stopped me.

"What's that?" he asked wonderingly. I retreated a few steps and glanced at his furrowed eyebrows and confused eyes before following his gaze. It took a moment for my eyes to focus through the haze and see what the subject of Riley's intent stare was at first, but as I took a step closer I felt my own forehead wrinkle up just as Riley's had. There, nestled deep within the bushes by Riley's house about 300 feet away, was a soft yellow light. As I stared, the glow turned green, then blue, then violet. The two of us stood transfixed as the light transitioned through all the colors of the rainbow and back again, altering pigments in a continuous cycle. From time to time, the light flashed, throwing a curve into its orderly pattern. But within another second it continued on again, smooth and sweet as melted chocolate.

"Rebecca! Riley!" I looked away quickly as a shout broke through our trance. "What are you still doing outside? It's pouring out there." I turned my head toward the house and saw my sister Sandy's silhouette outlined in the burst of light coming through the open doorway. It was only about three o'clock in the afternoon, and on the days both of my parents went into work, Sandy took on the task of watching after me.

"Coming," I called back to her. I waited for Sandy to close the door before looking back towards Riley's house. The light was still visible, but I noticed it had grown dimmer since we had first discovered it.

"What do you think it is?"

"I don't know," Riley answered slowly, squinting at the fading colors. And suddenly, it was gone. We waited on the porch for a few minutes longer, oblivious to the fat raindrops still drilling our umbrellas from the sky at an astonishing rate. A shallow current began sliding and sloshing around our feet, but still the light did not reappear.

"Weird," Riley commented. With a shrug and a confused grin, he moved up the porch steps and shook his boots off before going inside. After one final wondering look, I was quick to follow.

Inside, the crackling logs in the fireplace mixed with the sweet smell of cider to produce an effective tidal wave of comfort and warmth. After discarding our sopping sweat shirts and shoes, Riley and I set to work on the plate of cookies Sandy offered us, nibbling the chunks of chocolate and sugar contentedly and thawing our feet by the fire. It wasn't long before we forgot about our strange sighting outside, and when it failed to appear on the days that followed, the entire incident faded from our immediate thoughts and memories.

Over the next few years, we spotted the light from time to time, always in the dark depths of the bushes by Riley's house. It is likely that the strange light appeared more than the few times we noticed it, but as it was, it generally came to our attention when we were playing outside with the other kids in our neighborhood. I can recall many summer nights that I spent with my friends and neighbors, playing hide-and-seek in our younger years and basketball and soccer later on, all while the sun gracefully made its descent and led the world into times of peaceful slumber.

For two weeks each summer, my immediate family members and I took off in a teetering old motor home we rented from a shop just outside of town and traveled to the nearby Lake Vincent to enjoy fishing, hiking, and s'mores--all of the highlights of any successful camping trip. In the weeks surrounding this annual vacation, my dad left the RV parked out on the street in front of our house to give us all an additional place to spend the hot summer days. When the rare summer storms broke apart our normal daily patterns, Riley and I climbed aboard the motor home and speculated about our mysterious discovery. From glow sticks and lost miniature strobe lights to fireflies and spaceships, our imaginations took us far and wide, exploring any and all possibilities.

The last time I saw the light stands in my memory as clear as that night's brilliant sky. It was early April of 1968, and I was just one week away from the move that would take my family and I away from my childhood home and all of my friends indefinitely. Riley and I dragged thick beach towels out onto the street and lay on our backs, staring up at the magnificent display of glittering stars. After nearly an hour of pointing out constellations and talking about anything other than my impending relocation, I saw the familiar colors spinning on the side of Riley's house. It was my hope that night that I would see a falling star to wish upon, but with none in sight I decided the light in the bushes would suffice well enough. Squeezing my eyes tightly shut, I wished to return someday to my hometown to greet any adventures that came my way.

Of course, at that time I considered an extensive game of Truth or Dare to be an exciting adventure, but I also didn't fully believe that wishing on an unidentified light source would be entirely effective. Looking back on all the sightings Riley and I logged into our memories, there were many things we never considered when we tried to figure out what the light was. We never thought to connect the timing of significant national or global events with our discoveries, though that was perhaps the most essential and telling aspect of the unknown light. It was a mystery, indeed.

Nevertheless, I did not spot the light again until I visited my old neighborhood for the first time five years later, in the summer of 1973.