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Epilogue

Adam and the Music Box

This is the story of Adam, the boy who could see between walls, and his journey along the forest path. If you would like to follow along on his adventures, please turn the page when you hear the cat say,
Meow meow
.

* * *

The day Adam first listened to the music box was the worst day of his life. He was only nine years old so he didn’t have a lot of days to compare it with, but based on the amount of blood on the floor, this was definitely the worst so far.

The music box was made of wood. It didn’t have much decoration on it, and it seemed pretty old. When Adam lifted the lid of the box it played an old tune. He didn’t know all the words to the song, but he knew it was about longing for home and simpler days.

There was nothing simple about Adam’s home.

Meow meow.

* * *

Adam’s best friend was a cat. His name was Azrael, which was also the name given to the Angel of Death by some sects of Islam. In the Jewish Zohar, Azrael was called Azriel, instead. He commanded legions of heavenly angels. Christians tended to ignore Azrael, and that was just fine by him. Adam’s Azrael was actually named after a cartoon cat that terrorized tiny, blue, Belgian creatures. But he didn’t command, or battle, or preside over death. He mainly just napped and followed Adam around.

One day, Azrael followed Adam between the walls of their clubhouse. Adam was listening to his music box when all of a sudden, everything began to shake. Including Adam! He shook, and his eyes fluttered open and closed. He said things that didn’t make sense. When Azrael rubbed up against Adam to see what was wrong, they both slipped between the walls.

Meow meow.

* * *

Adam was ready though. He had walked between the walls before. The first time it had been by accident, but this time he was
trying
to walk between them. He wanted to see if he could find his way back to the forest path that lead to a magical garden. He had seen the garden and the path in his dreams, but he figured out that when he had those dreams, he was actually awake. So this time, he thought about the path and he thought about the garden as he drew on the wall.

The pattern he drew was a new one. He had learned it from the man who had given him the music box. That man had gone to the magic garden, and Adam wanted to see if he could find it, too. But he didn’t want to hurt anybody to get there. He just wanted to walk. So he let the music box play, and when the patterns on his wall looked like the stars in the sky, he started walking.

Meow meow.

* * *

Adam was a little afraid when he saw the forest path again. The last time he had stood on the trail, he had been frozen in place, and when he tried to talk, somebody else used his mouth to make words. This time he could walk, and touch the trees, and use his own mouth.

The first thing he said was, “Azrael! You came with me!”

“Meow,”
said Azrael. He didn’t really know what else to say.

“I’m glad you did,” Adam admitted. “This forest can be scary, and I’m not really sure where I’m going.”

“Meow,”
said Azrael again. He was only a cat after all.

Adam’s clubhouse looked different. The roof was covered with moss, and instead of being lit up with Christmas lights, it was surrounded by a swarm of fireflies winking in and out of existence. Outside the door a trail stretched off through the forest in two different directions.

He tried to remember what the garden had looked like. He remembered parts of it had looked pretend and parts of it had looked real. Sometimes, the real things would start to look pretend, and the pretend things would start to look real. The big tree in the center always looked real to him. So did the owl perched up in its branches.

As Adam thought about the owl, he heard a screech far off in the forest. It sounded more like an echo that had forgotten to fade away. He decided to follow the path toward the sound.

Meow meow.

* * *

The forest was dense and dark. Sometimes Adam thought he saw shadows moving among the trees. They reminded him of fables and fairy tales. In those stories, it was never safe to leave the forest path so Adam watched his feet carefully and made sure Azrael never wandered off too far.

Once he thought he heard a baby crying far off in the woods. And once he thought he saw his father waving to him and smiling. Adam knew these weren’t real, though, and tried his best to ignore them as he hurried along.

The forest ended suddenly. He followed the path around a tree as large as his clubhouse. As he turned the corner, the trail opened up to a large clearing. Adam picked up Azrael and stood at the edge. All the trees bent back from the clearing as if they were trying get away.

They had found the magic garden, but the garden was dying.

Meow meow.

* * *

No owl greeted them as they stepped into the clearing.

The plants and trees that looked real were wilting. All their color was draining out of them, and their leaves littered the yellow grass below. The plants and trees that looked pretend were curled up on the ground like forgotten paper. They looked brittle and faded.

There was a dry stream winding through the garden that looked like a patchwork of cracked mud. A small pond still had some water left in it, but it smelled foul, like a dog that had just come in from the rain. There were no birds chirping or butterflies flitting about. Instead, there was a faint, continual sound of crunching and clicking. To Adam it sounded like bugs crawling and eating their way through a compost heap.

Even the great twisted oak tree looked like it was sagging under its own weight.

Meow meow.

* * *

Something moved under the oak tree. Adam was expecting the Woman in the Garden to step forward with her daughters. To call out a warning or a curse. To unleash her owl and try to take his other eye.

But there was no woman, and there was no owl.

Instead, a man was sitting under the tree, leaning back against it. He lifted his head. He looked old, but then most people looked old to Adam. The man also looked tired, as though he had been awake for a year. Adam’s eyes widened. It was the man with the blade who could draw lines and patterns like he could. It was Foster.

When he spoke, his words didn’t match his smile. “Have you come to destroy me?”

“No,” said Adam. “I came to see if I could help the women you brought here. I came to take them home. Or at least away from this.”

Meow meow.

* * *

Foster stood but was still using the tree for support. Adam set down Azrael. The cat’s back was arched, and his tail looked like a bottle cleaner. He growled a low warning to Foster, but that hadn’t helped a whole lot last time.

Foster smiled at the cat but made no move toward him. “They left with
her
,” he said. “She took an acorn from the tree and left this place behind.”

“Why?” asked Adam.

“She knew you would come,” said Foster, “and that you would bring the Other.”

“What other?” asked Adam. “My cat?”

Foster’s smile faded, and he looked closely at Adam. “The one inside you who leaks out when you lose control. The one with wings and horns. She called it your familiar.”

“If it exists, it hasn’t helped me before,” said Adam.

“You could have lost more than your eye that night,” said Foster. “It pulled you away, out of the garden. Now I see it staring at me through that same eye.”

Meow meow.

* * *

Adam looked at himself in the pond by the tree. The surface was still and reflected the angry-looking clouds in the sky. The Adam in the reflection wasn’t wearing an eye patch. He looked back with two eyes. One was hazel, the same eye that stared back at him when he watched himself brush his teeth in the bathroom mirror. The other eye was milky-white but also seemed to glow with a faint blue light.

When Adam looked into that eye, he heard words echoing through his head. Some were in a language he understood and some sounded like Latin prayers. None of them were
his
words, and the words didn’t make him feel safe.

Meow meow.

* * *

Adam turned back to the oak tree. A dry leaf fluttered to the ground and landed on a yellowed picture of a rose bush. Azrael swatted at the leaf, and it crumbled to dust. Foster was sitting under the tree again, his head bowed.

“Why don’t you leave?” asked Adam.

Foster kept his head down. “Where would I go?”

“Someplace new,” said Adam.

“I’m tired of walking the path,” said Foster. “I think I’ll stay here. Maybe I’ll learn to grow things. Plant a garden of my own.”

Adam turned to go, but then he stopped. “Maybe this will help.” He held out the old wooden music box to Foster.

As Adam left the magic garden behind, he heard the old tune one last time. He knew he wasn’t done walking the forest path.