Free The Whisper of Stars by Nick Jones

forget it?”
    She completed the Tai Chi form, flicked the remnants of green tea from her mug and went back downstairs, where she lay awhile, staring at the ceiling. Although convinced sleep wouldn’t come, she eventually slipped under its veil and into a deep slumber. Her recurring dream came again, except this time it was different, this time it didn’t stop in the usual place. It continued, allowing fears long forgotten to rise up, scratching, hungry and restless.

    * * *

    It was a scene she knew all too well, the cornfield, clouds moving by, except she had an awareness of being asleep, along for the ride, an odd sense of voyeurism. To her right was a young girl she recognised instantly as herself, aged nine. As the familiar gust of wind whistled through the jagged corn, it brought with it a realisation. Jen would be watching the familiar dream as a spectator. The young girl turned, looked straight through her and darted away.
    The dream was playing out as it always did, exactly to the note. A horrifying thought arrived, one that made her figurative legs go weak.
    Am I going to see myself ripped apart, eaten alive? Is this how the dream ends?
    In the distance she saw her father and the young girl chasing after him and heard the thrashing corn behind her, the creatures closing in. Jen followed and arrived at the clearing in time to see her father pass through the doorway. She watched her younger self, tears streaming down her cheeks, frantically twisting the door handle, eyes darting and bright with fear. Jen went to her, hands trembling, and watched, helpless, as her adult hand passed through the solid object.
    I’m a ghost, she thought. I’m already dead.
    The sound was building. She knew how this gruesome scene ended. In a moment the creatures would fall on this helpless girl and pull her apart, and Jen would be made to watch.
    And listen, Jen, you get to hear the ripping and gnawing. The screams of youth. The sound of breaking bones and tearing flesh.
    Jen stood defiantly over the girl, breath bursting in and out, tears welling up inside her. If she was a ghost, then defiance was pointless, but she had to do something.
    You left us both, Daddy.
    The first of the dark figures broke through the corn and Jen, struggling to process the information, finally faced her demon. Huge, midnight-black and encased in a thick shell, its small head twisted towards her, mandibles flashing in the moonlight. It was a giant beetle. She recoiled, fighting an overwhelming impulse to flee. The girl was crying and pounding the door as more beetles flooded through the corn into the clearing. There were at least seven now, closing in around them, their hungry mouths like razor combs, clacking and vibrating.
    Jen felt a wave of nausea as her legs folded beneath her. She couldn’t hold the tears back any longer. They burst out, weak, guttural sobs mixed with a terrible sound of insect feet scratching at the ground. There were too many beetles to count now, like a sea of black ink surrounding them. Jen turned to see her younger self standing, poised, ready to run straight into the solid door, and in a sudden rush of clarity she finally understood. What if this was the memory, buried for all these years, and the doorway is a metaphor? If the memory had been unlocked, surely all she had to do was open the door…
    With that single, basic thought the door flew open, bathing the clearing in a thick column of blinding light. The swarm of beetles writhed and curled, their terrible, high-pitched screams like tortured whale song. The delay was long enough for the girl to dive into the light and Jen to follow. The door slammed shut behind her, silencing the nightmarish howls instantly and forever.
    Jen lay on the ground, panting and crying. Time passed, tears flowed and she found herself praying that when she opened her eyes, what she saw wasn’t somewhere worse. What could be worse? She smelt grass and felt a cool wind whipping up and over her. She