Dimensional Storage

Welcome to The Spot Writers. This month, the prompt is: Someone has a superpower but only for one day a week.

Cathy’s novels, WOLVES DON’T KNOCK, a psychological drama, and MISTER WOLFE, the darkly dark sequel or stand-alone novel (18+), are available on Amazon. MY BROTHER, THE WOLF, the last of the series, is scheduled for release in 2023.

Cathy continues with her wacky, weird Melvin character. Again, she apologizes that these tales are getting weirder and weirder...

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Dimensional Storage

by Cathy MacKenzie

 

Dimensional storage: Dimensional Storage (also called Hammerspace or Magic satchel) is the ability to store as many items as one wishes in a sort of "storage area" without any regard for running out of room. Users are then able to summon the desired item(s) at their whim, making it seem as if they pulled each object out of thin air (https://vsbattles.fandom.com/wiki/).

  

The week after William returned home were frenzied, fluster-filled days. So many so-called well-wishers interrupted our days, what with unannounced appearances at the door, cards thunking to the foyer floor from the mail slot, telephone calls—not to mention countless tears from Marie. The frazzled me was uncertain whether they were tears of joy at our son’s return or tears of sadness that our two daughters were still gone. William’s return reminded me of the rising of Christ—except it wasn't Easter; it was late August.

There weren’t many days until school started, which was the day after Labour Day. Marie wanted to keep William at home until mid-September (if not longer).

“He needs rest, Melvin,” she told me. “Rest. Lots of it. He's had a horrendous ordeal.”

“It's you, Marie. You’re causing it. He can't get any rest, not with you hovering over him, pawing at him, sneaking into his room at all hours.”

Christ, what did she think? That William would disappear again and not return a second time? Granted, if it happened again—if he should disappear again—I have my doubts he'd reappear, so for once in her life, she was right. Christ, though! Why would he leave again?

She wouldn't let him go down to the water. (To be honest, he had no desire to go.) Wimpy kid. Wimpy William—how apropos! But that suited me just fine. I liked my space. Didn't want to chance killing him again—accidentally, of course—so perhaps it was best he stay away.

 So... I let Marie call the shots. Decide what our son could and couldn't do, school or not. One of these days he'd have enough and rebel. Not at me, though. His rebellion would be on Marie.

I never told Marie or anyone else the whole story. That it was me—me!—who brought him home in the end. Figured no one would believe me.

But it was me! I brought him home...

The morning of the day of William’s return, I’d awoken early. It was 3:23. I held my breath sliding out of bed, not wanting the rickety bedframe to squeak and wake Marie. I sauntered into the living room. The newspaper lay on the end table. Bored, I picked it up and flipped through it. (I don’t often read the paper; Marie’s the news freak.)

Anyhow, an article titled “Dimensional Storage” caught my eye.

After digesting the words (both freaky and interesting), I envisioned my brain as a storage area, a room full of items. Many items. Mostly thoughts, such as dreams, wishes, wants, regrets, past loves. I stuck my kids in there, too. Saw their sweet faces. They were alive. Playing Monopoly. I filled my mind as full as I could (not really consciously aware of what I was doing) as if my head were as vacuous as the Goodyear Blimp. I pursued my past. Inserted some scenes into the space. My deceased parents (God rest their souls!), too. So full was my mind! Despite that, I knew room existed for more: happy thoughts, horrid thoughts. I kept filling my mind. Stuffed everything I had into that imaginary storage room.

I rehashed the pertinent words from the article: store as many items as one wishes in a sort of "storage area" without any regard for running out of room.

I’d done that. My mind was full.

I re-read the most important words: Users are then able to summon the desired item(s) at their whim, making it seem as if they pulled each object out of thin air.

I closed my eyes. Pictured my kids. Plucked each one from death.

As we all now know, I succeeded—well, partly. One returned; two didn’t. One out of three; not a great result but better than nothing, I suppose.

Barely hours after I’d read the article and transformed my mind into a storage area, William returned. It was as if I’d morphed into a magician and pulled him out of that deep black hat. As if I’d pulled him out of thin air.

I tried many other times after that to retrieve my daughters in a similar fashion. Alas, no such luck, so I finally gave up. It was as if I possessed magical powers—but only for that one day.

But you know what?

I haven’t given up hope. Perhaps my daughters washed up on another shore. Perhaps one of them is “Peggy of the Cove” and will live on for eternity. Perhaps Peggy has a twin! Or what if both are together, have amnesia, and can’t find their way home? Perhaps they’ll be found one day, or maybe before then, I’ll have another day with magical powers.

Perhaps Marie will have her daughters back before she reaches Heaven (or Hell). Who knows, right?

 

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 The Spot Writers—Our Members:

 Val Muller: http://www.valmuller.com/blog/

 Catherine A. MacKenzie: https://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/

 Phil Yeats: https://alankemisterauthor.wordpress.com

 Chiara De Giorgi: https://chiaradegiorgi.blogspot.com/