Fragments of Dimension by Monica Brinkman

 

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 “Frankie! Come here boy.” Jennifer inhaled three whistles before continuing. “It’s me sweetie. It’s mama.”

The short-haired Fox Terrier’s ears perked, nose pointed forward sniffing for familiar scents. Finding none, he cocked his head, circled the corner and lay down, now content on licking the dust from his paw.

If only I’d been more careful, thought Jennifer. She recalled the first time it had happened. She was sitting on the sofa watching the dust twirl, dance and sparkle within the beam of sunlight pouring through the open window. It occurred to her that the sparkles weren’t actually dust particles at all but tiny dots of glimmering rays, each separated by a minuscule space of darkness. When she looked deep into the empty spaces, she found herself drawing closer to the light.  Yet her body was motionless and seated on the sofa, content on staring into the rays, not moving a muscle.  The emptiness drew her further and further into its space. The nearer she came, the wider the darkness opened as it pushed the shimmer and glittering particles of sunshine to the side. She felt the darkness widen taking over the entire area of the sunbeam and in an instance, the empty space sucked her into another dimension.  She soared above the sofa at will and as soon as she had felt fear, bam, she was back in her living room on the sofa.

Often, she had focused on the empty space, the darkness between the light. She recalled that in school they had taught her nothing is solid; there is always space between the molecules holding items or she supposed, even people, together. Somehow, she had mastered the ability to enter into the between and experience a dimension where the body was lighter than air and could float across space and time. So addictive a game it was and such fun that all fear of the unknown ceased and the incidents became more a habit than an exception.

Now she had gone and done it.

Jennifer pressed her Miren shaped nose against the hard surface of the window-like substance. She had not yet decided what it most resembled. The color was not as clear as glass for it portrayed a pearl-like radiance that changed color according to the angle one peered, altering from a soft glaze of white to an intense shade of gray.  Little flecks of light burst from its interior, rather as those of fireworks, but much tinier in circumference.  Somehow, none of these oddities interfered with the clarity of vision. She could make out every single object or being through this odd looking glass.

The surface began to roll and ripple. Jennifer stepped back.  She watched with curiosity and alarm, as the ripple grew large, towered over her head and scooped her up. It formed a large bubble that encased her body. She cried out in terror. Her wails turned into cascading foam and fell liquidating under her feet.

The bubble lifted Jennifer into the air and through a tunnel of blackness.

Frankie jumped on the king sized bed and licked tears from Earl Hanson’s face. Animals have that innate ability to sense an owner’s despair. Earl knew it was foolish to think his daughter would appear after all, nine months had passed. He might be losing his mind, but at dusk, just when the final light of day shined through the windows, picking up bits of dust, which swirled through the air, he could swear he heard Jennifer’s voice crying out “Help me. Father help me.”

 

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11 thoughts on “Fragments of Dimension by Monica Brinkman

  1. James Secor

    Anyone going to correct your posted title?
    Will we be seeing the conclusion to this story, Monica? What a teaser! If we asked for it, you’d you send it? huh-huh-huh? I wonder because of the “ending” here: are you misleading us with this kind of lead-in or is this guy’s reverie going to lead us down an entirely unexpected path?

    Reply
  2. Monica Brinkman

    I guess they didn’t catch the title and copied and pasted. Good eye James. I think the ending is fine, as is. I love to have others use their imagination. It could have several endings, couldn’t it? ha ha.

    Reply
  3. Monica Brinkman

    Actually James, I just checked and what I sent them was spelled correctly, both in the title and in the email, so I have no idea what happened. Oh well. That is “Monica’s Law”, just as Murphy.

    Reply
  4. Kenneth Weene

    First, I have never before seen an author use Miren properly and creatively, the perfect description for the shape of the dog’s nose; but that is one of the hallmark’s of Monica Brinkman’s writing, excellence of description. Second, overall this is both marvelously evocative speculative fiction and a great homage to the sixth sense of dogs, that which allows them to know of the world beyond our world or truths beyond our ken. Loved it.

    Reply
  5. Monica Brinkman

    After such a wonderful comment, Ken, I must advise that the Miren shaped nose belonged to the girl and not the dog. She had a Miren shaped nose and the dog, being a fox terrier would have a small nose. Sorry.

    Reply
  6. Micki Peluso

    What is a ‘miran’ nose? This is a great story– loved the ending. I had two out of body experiences in my life and I was both fascinated and terrified. I prefer to stay in my body but seeing your body down the hall from you is quite a trip.

    Reply
  7. Monica Brinkman

    It is a long nose, some have bumps, others do not. An example can be a roman nose, an long thin nose, or even a long nose with a bulbous tip. Let’s just say it is a ‘big nose’. Streisand anyone?

    Reply
  8. John B. Rosenman

    While reading this, for some reason I thought of the quotation about staring into the abyss and seeing it stare back. If a person gazes into fragments of dimension or spaces between light beams, she runs the risk of getting lost or trapped. The joy and liberation of an out-of-body experience can turn in a blink to the horror of imprisonment. And, a dog can sense so much we can’t. A haunting story about a person with a special talent, or perhaps an ability that most of us don’t try to cultivate.

    Reply

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