Testing Vickie

Chapter One

The five vials sat on the table draped in a black velvet tablecloth. How conventional. Each vial was varied in size, the contents various forms. Starting from the left, there was a tiny little test-tube vial with clear water-like liquid. There was steam rising from the tube, like when the kettle was boiling and the steam streams out from the (the bit where you pour water out). To its right, was a larger vial. This one had a rounded base with a thin neck. It contained a thick and sludgy goop that was pale purple in colour. In the middle was a leather opaque flask with a stopper. Following the opaque flask was a wine glass filled with a deep red liquid. With no steam arising from it and the texture upon sight not being thick and sludgy, it appeared like it might be wine. The last vial was a small and round, an emerald green liquid, also with a stopper, transparent emerald green bubbles floating upwards.

Any one of these will take me to Utopia. I just have to figure out which one. 'One to find Utopia, four others to battle your own demons' was all the help I got. Here goes nothing I guess.

I decide to take a chance with the test-tube like one. I take the vial with the thin clear liquid and brace myself, closing my eyes I tilt my head back and swallow it in one gulp. Is it too late to hope that nothing goes wrong? I begin to feel drowsy. Is this supposed to happening? Something burns on my arm, like a hand wrapping around it. I'm struggling to open my eyes, my body is not obeying my commands and I feel like I'm paralysed. Cool air rushes up from below me as reality slips away.

All of a sudden everything feels light, like I'm flying; and if I'm flying it means I could fall. I take a glance at my eyes dart around at my surroundings. At this point, I realised I wasn’t flying, I'm falling towards a trampoline. As I land softly I bounce up a few centimetres. I get a clearer view of where I am, my childhood home. The grass is that wilted shade of green as always and the faded yellow wall I painted, a fine wall of white chalk powder. The house stands in front of me in its wholly mini grandeur. I walk across the grass, barefoot in a long, simple white cotton dress. Almost t-shirt like. I see a reflection of myself in the dirty window, my hair raven black and eyes a deep brown. Everything seems looks the way it always does. Then my eyes travel to my arm; my skin is tanned, but there was something else there. Like a tattoo, only, it surely couldn't have been a tattoo. I'd never get one. I walk past the tall olive tree and into the house through the back door. I walk in and see the family portraits hanging on a wall in the hallway. We've had a family portrait since every year I was born to support my aunt's photography studio. We haven't had one yet this year, have we? Well, not from the present I am from.

Is this all a dream? Perhaps it is all real, or maybe I've travelled back in time. It even could be all three…

I see my family smiling from the photos then hear a voice yell from somewhere in the house. I think it's my mother's voice.

"Oliver, get downstairs now!"

I hear feet clambering down hurriedly and my brother enters the hallway.

"Hey Oli." I say in greeting. He slowly backs away. Like he doesn't know who I am. "What's wrong with you? You look like you've seen a ghost!" He was pale white, eyes wide. He slowly backed away towards the kitchen where Mum was most likely to be found.

"There's someone here." He said, mild panic in his voice.

"Oli, it's me. Your sister. Victoria. You know, the one who read you books when you were little, remember Harry Potter or Narnia? The one who, when you broke your leg baked brownies just for you when you were 10?" How does he not remember me? I see him every day, except not in this house. In the one we moved to three years ago.

"Mum," He said, louder, more urgent, panic increasingly rising.

"I'm coming, I'm coming." She said slightly annoyed. Maybe she was reading a book. I see her as she rounds the corner from the kitchen and she has a cup of tea in her hand. It falls out and shatters on the floor. "Who? Oli, go call your father and tell him that we're going out for dinner tonight at 6:30." Her voice was shaking.

"Let me help you clean that." I say. I head towards the kitchen the same way Oli left where we were but she says:

"Who are you? I have nothing to give." She says, panic rising. Then something snaps. "Get out, get out of my house! I'll call the cops! Oli get me the phone!"

I gape in disbelief. I'm her daughter, someone you'd think she'd remember. "I'm Vic…" I change my mind halfway. It's probably better not to say. "Nevermind."

"I always wanted a daughter called Victoria, then I could call her Vickie." mum whispers so softly that I have to pay attention to every word. This tipped me over the edge. I ran down the hallway past the photos. I went back a bit then paused. There were twenty photos like usual, except, I wasn't in any of them. I kept running, past the living room, the drawing room and out the door. Trying to not burst into a sobbing mess, I wrenched the door open and the street I grew up in before me appears before me. I ran out and left the door wide open. I choked back a sob and kept going. The hundreds of times Mum's called out Vickie pounding in my head with each step I take still bare foot. I ran and ran and ran.