Jumper

By Kellie Thomas-Walker

In this fast-paced science fiction romance by Kellie Thomas-Walker, twenty-six year old gallery curator Joryn lives a peaceful existence after losing her mother and ending an abusive marriage. One night four strangers knock at her door. They reveal that she is actually a time-traveler, and Michael takes her

• Language: English
• Publisher: Palmetto Publishing
• Release date: Jan 5, 2022
• ISBN: 9781685159825

Kellie Thomas-Walker

Born to an artist mother, Kellie Thomas-Walker was introduced to painting and illustration at a young age. She does not confine herself to one artistic school of thought. She has exhibited all over southern California and in various online exhibitions. Her primary career is in art, but writing was her first love. Each piece she creates, whether on canvas or on paper, holds abstract symbolism embedded in its layers. Kellie was born in Ontario, California and raised in Redding, California. For the past twenty-two years she has lived in Long Beach, California, with her husband and their four daughters.

Book preview

Ascension

"Two of the most important days in your

life are the day

you were born, and the day you find out why."

~Mark Twain

T

here are days that determine yourself more than others. Weighing in their existence with a weighted autonomy. Drumming along in an invariable manner. Then, there are days that surpass the undeviated. Those precious breaths of unadulterated air; that up until that first exquisite inhale … you didn’t know you needed. Some people do not recognize their importance, and through the passing of time, they go overlooked. Then, there are the others who see them for what they are - and welcome them. They rise up out of their stagnate state. The day ushers on forward -they rise, and fall, like the crashing waves.

I woke from the dream… frozen. The nightmare had been so real that it left me paralized in a sweaty mass. Fear knotted my insides - twisting, and clenching unforgivably around the edges of my stomach. That corpulent gravity that sets in upon waking from a nightmare filled the room, anchoring my body down, molding my body into the solitary confines of my mattress. The air was listless - still, hanging over my head. I tried to relax my fingers, as they wretched back into a fist. I gripped the edge of my blanket; coaxing it for some sort of warranted protection. I peer over my pillow and stare at the dismal glowing green light glaring back at me from the table beside me… 3:00 am.

A muffled knock raps the front door, throwing a piercing ring in my ears. I could hear labored whistles of air strain out of my chest. Building faster, and faster. My eyes dart upward to the sky outside - not releasing my head from its cemented position. No light peaks the perimeters of the flat, inky horizon. It's the middle of the night - the Witching Hour - as mama always called it. A blanket of goosebumps ravaged my legs and scattered across my arms. I tried to slow my labored breathing, as I stared up toward the ceiling - internally hoping the knock at my front door was some wicked fabrication my mind chose to play after waking from that dreadful dream.

My eyes instinctively dart back to the unrelenting green glow.

3:03 am.

I carefully survey my empty bedroom. Trinity lay steadily asleep sprawled out across his navy blue dog bed. The rustic low rumble of his rhythmic breathing calms me; his supple white coat rises and falls with each breath. I exhaled a guarded breath. I exhale a guarded breath, I’ve always known my dreams had often blurred the line between reality and fabrication.

Then, two more rapid taps.

These are more urgent than the last. I eye my bedroom, doors, and the hallway; Trinity still remained in a blissful sleep.

How are you sleeping?

TAP. TAP. TAP.

Three sharp knocks rock the doorframe. I throw back my comforter, and force my feet to the floor, and run my hands blindly over my legs. Luckily I had fallen asleep in my yoga pants and t-shirt, as if some instinct in me told me not to wear my underwear to bed.

I creep toward the front door, gently bending my ankles, trying not to put extra weight on the wooden floorboards. One of my ankles cracks loudly, as if to announce to the stranger on the other side my position. My trembling hand hovered over the silver door knob - it sort of radiates with chilled expectancy. As I stretch out my fingers to calm the shaking - I rest one hand on the knob, and the other on the wooden door that stands as my only barrier. I press my ear against the door, and hold my breath as I listen for anything from the other side. I pinch my eyes shut, then grab the black umbrella that I keep in a basket by the front door. I claw my fingers around the icey, metallic knob and turn left.

A handful of moments in life truly resonate; they swim around as they attempt to take up permanent residence. They bind in your blood, attaching to each cell. Spreading… formulating change. The thing is, as humans we need change to thrive. Up until that point, I didn’t know how much I needed it. That moment the door swung open … was the beginning.

Standing there, not even six feet apart from me, was a regal woman, perhaps a handful of years older than me, with height almost equal to mine. She had long raven that was carefully split down the center which cascaded in a black waterfall that ended at her waist. The dark contrast framed her strong, angled cheekbones in an inhuman manner. Her eyes held a strange familiarity to me. She calmly looked at me, a slight smile emerged from the edge of her lips.

I am Mother.

I remained silent. My gaze deviated past her to the three imposing men standing 10 feet behind her. Each one equally spread out. Their sanguine arms resting uniformly at their sides, and each young man staring straight at me with structural unity.

Can I help you? I cringed inwardly at hearing my meager voice in all of its reluctance. I stepped back protectively and rested my hand on the door knob.

Do you know who you are, Joryn?

How odd her question was. Somehow her words forced their way down my throat, and reached deep inside of me, activating a part of me that until then I had no idea was there.

I-I…I’m getting there? My reply sounded more like a question than an answer, but what surprised me most was the feeling of knowing that accompanied it.

A kind compassion washed over her molten umber eyes that were partly shadowed in the partial light of the distant obscure moonlight. She firmly raised and outstretched her arm in a commanding gesture, nodding attentively to me, and then without a word, she half-nodded to the least daunting of the three men, standing in the middle.

Go! Her voice was riddled with fierce urgency. Ascend. The woman looked upward into the charcoal sky.

The man took his place by my side. It occurred to me that I was possibly having one of my surrealist dreams. If that was the case - then I couldn’t get hurt. With an intrepid cock of his head, and a hint of a smirk, the middle man reached for my hand and gently wrapped his long fingers loosely around mine.

Hey, it's okay. Are you ready to go?

What in the world was going on? When he spoke a calm current washed over me like warm water. Part of me knew I should be scared, though, all I felt was serene. In the far recess of my mind, it occurred to me that whomever they are, that maybe they held the ability to control emotions. A word popped in my head, and I quickly pushed it away. No.no way. I wouldn’t think that, if for the only reason that I was alone with them in the middle of the night. The rolling ease continued, and this odd feeling started to build in my chest. It felt like the flutter of a thousand hummingbirds. I wrapped my arms around my abdomen and peered into the dark void. The carbon tinted clouds parted revealing the light from the partial moon, and with it came an inescapable urge to be up there up.

The raven haired woman cocked her head toward me, and to the man standing at my side. She is ready. The woman named Mother paused for a drawn out moment then rose her outstretched arm toward the sky.

Go!

And up I went!

I had dreams of flying since I can remember. I looked forward to bed every night because of them. I flew fast and steady. My favorite thing was to trace my fingers over the oceans, while hovering in parallel to the glassy reflection. Years went by and those dreams became less and less, and eventually faded.

I am flying straight up toward the open night sky. The farther I went, the more unleashed my consciousness became. I suddenly became aware that the man was behind me, so I started to slow. The rushing wind in its methodical coolness skimmed past my face and arms. I marvel at the transparent tinted sapphire hues that rapidly increased among the layers of the earth's atmosphere. The sky started to arch slightly over the earth. The twinkling lights above seemed to mirror the ones below, and I hovered there in awed appreciation at their synchronicity.

Whoa …The middle man's hands were outstretched beckoning me to slow down.

Hey - you’re supposed to be with me. You can’t leave the final layer of the Earth. If you do - you can’t come back.

I bit down hard on my lip, and my eyes darted upward.

Can’t come back? The words sort of croaked out of my mouth. I reached my hand out toward the open expanse, and I could feel it beckoning me. I liked it here… I wanted to go further. How do I know if I’ve reached the final layer?

You’ll know. When it starts to look black, like you’re in space…that's when you need to stop.

You…you could come with me. I just want to see.

Middle man snickered. I like your sense of adventure, but we have to go. He clasped his hand around my frigid fingers, with his equally chilled one.

"Where? The possibilities excited me.

We have a meeting to attend to.

I frowned. That wasn’t the reply I was expecting. After all, this must be some sort of absurd dream my dream had cocked up. Why a meeting? That didn’t seem like something I would have dreamed of. I huffed and reluctantly surrendered to my effulgent companion. He tilted his head slightly - his eyes danced with questions, as if he was looking at something he had never seen before. He let out a warm breath of air, and I could feel its contrast among the frosty atmosphere. He flew us east toward the golden light of the rising sun.

What seemed to be like an hour, could have been far longer; time sort of slurred together as I stood next to Middle Man. I would like to say that I knew what they spoke about, but I either don’t remember, or couldn’t hear them. Four others joined us in our meeting high in the towering cumulus clouds. I could feel Middle Man's protectiveness in the way he held himself. He did not touch me, it was like an unseen energy that radiated from him. I found myself staring at him as he responded to one of the other figures. The Middle Man stopped speaking abruptly, and turned to look at me. A gallant smile emerged across his face, a smile meant only for me. Something chemical stirred inside of me.

Come…it's time to take you home.

The Middle Man extended his hand toward me.

Home?

I frowned. I knew my reluctance was visibly evident, I didn’t want to leave.

Seeds

"When I rise up, let me rise joyfully like

a bird. When I fall, let me fall without

regret like a leaf."

~ Wendell Berry

I

woke to the scent of the coffee maker brewing. Its organic richness tugged at my stiff body. I lay stiffly, half of my face was wedged inside the corner of the couch. I stared at the angled ceiling overhead, and wiped a stream of drool from my cheek. I spy Trinity's furry white mass curled into a tight doughnut at the other end of the couch. His rhythmic breathing left ripples along his ample coat with each exhale. I reached down and strummed my fingers through his course coat, but he didn’t wake up.

Huh. He didn’t wake last night either. I forced my unwilling body upright. Looking around in muddled confusion, my eyes frantically searched for any trace of last night's events, or my illusive visitors.

My dreams are getting out of control.

Sore and frustrated, I shook my head and fell back onto the couch. I grabbed my phone that I had left on the coffee table the night before. Pandora was playing. How odd, I didn’t remember leaving that app open.

Wait For Me was playing. A chill rose up and ran the length of my spine. I threw my phone back on the table, and walked methodically toward the kitchen.

I stared warily at the steam rising from my coffee, and watched as it quickly dissipated into nothing. Trinity was finally awake, and was hovering over the food I had poured out for him. Grasping my mug, I drew in a long necessary sip, and then another; attempting to coax my depleted limbs back to life. Maybe I was getting sick. My students at the Art Center had been tossing the flu around. I realized the source of transmission had been the communal paint brushes, so I had cleaned them religiously after each class.

The sound of the dog door flapping back and forth indicated Trin was finished with his breakfast. How funny - he slept like the dead last night. I stretched out each leg, cracking the knees, and then my equally sore legs; every inch of me was tender. I hadn’t gone on a run in a few days, and there was no reason for me to be this achy.

No.No.No.

I had so much to do this week. Sam was visiting his daughter and grandbaby in upstate New York; therefore, relinquishing the job of lead curator of our annual art exhibition to me. I popped a green tea tablet, along with an echinacea pill for a quick boost to my immune system. I had the art classes along with hanging the Ascendance exhibit, and with only two art handers Tom and James - it was on me. I had been waiting for this chance for years. Sam was a mere two years from retirement, and I would take his place. He planned to move back east to be near his family and become a full time grandpa. His dream of owning a house with land, and a full garden. No piddly sized garden would do - as Sam would say of our area. A real garden, with corn, pumpkins, squash…just about anything you could think to stink in the earth. I must admit, it sounded peaceful and simple. Our town of San Clemente was calm and tranquil. Of course the surrounding area was not, but it was easy to stay isolated in our town.

When I first started at The Center, I was adolescent in my ability - being straight out of art school, I was eager to be under Sam's steady guidance. Five easy years passed by and Sam and I had become inseparable. He was the only person left that I truly trusted. When I divorced my ex and then the abrupt passing of my mom - I threw myself into my work. It felt like home. I inherited the house from my mom, that she had inherited from my great Uncle Steven Quill. Thankfully, it was fully paid for; which made living among the memories of mom a little less painful to endure.

As I finished the last of my coffee, my eyes fell on the partially concealed black book shrouded in a year's worth of dust. It was right where mama had left it - resting on the floor, next to her vacant chair. I couldn’t touch it, let alone move it. Moving it…it was like I was moving her; and I wasn’t ready for that.

A sheet of rain softly tapped the roof; and I tilted my head toward the window, and peered up into the pearl grey sky. A low rumble rose in the distance, bringing a wave of comfort along with it. Trinity broke through the dog door, scared out of his wits. He cowered at my feet, the poor thing was terrified of thunder.

Poor boy … shhh. It's just a little storm.

I sat down beside him and covered his ears.

It's alright boy. Shhhh.

Trinity nestled into the crease of my pants, and slowly the ridge that peaked across his spine, slowly smoothed down. Trin quickly fell asleep in my lap, as I stroked the planes of his fur. Sitting there, with Trin asleep in my lap, I slowly breathed in the tangible energy of the storm. I watched as the dark rain formed its contrast against the colossal fortress of saturated clouds. Automatically, I stroked his downey ears, as he let out a long, drawn out groan. Sitting there with Trinity flopped over me, I stared out toward the sky in awe at how the light and dark danced around one another in sheer equality.

Then, I’m there again. I don’t know what brings it on, but I’m standing in front of the burned out fireplace. It stands alone, among the blanket of ash. The sheath of grey mirrors the sky above, as if they join in to mourn in solidarity. I hear the affectionate bubble of the creek nearby, still continuing its familiar path down the stricken hill. I hesitate, then force my direction toward the only standing structure, and I run my fingers across the stone. The memories, though faint, somehow emulate their evocative sweetness. I sit down next to the fireplace, and trace my trembling fingers over the initials of my sister, brother, and mine. The sweet sound of a cheerful bird breaks me out of my reverie. His song was so bright and happy, had his friends not told him? It's all gone. There's nothing left. I looked around for something to throw at the bird, but found nothing but scarred earth.

A momentous rumble shook the foundation of the house, snapping me back to the present. Trinity frantically wriggled out of my lap, and took fortress on the sofa. I clung on to my empty mug, and stood watching the ominous grey roll away, allowing an incandescent light thread its way through the windows. I stood there, and bathed in its warmth. What happened last night? It seemed so real, but…how could it? I glanced around, there was not one bit of evidence that it happened.

I decide to shake off the curiosity of the night, and jump into the shower. The heat of the water eased graciously down my aching back. The warm water felt too good. I leaned against the tile and let it pelt my face and neck until the hot water ran cold. The gradual contrast in temperatures came on so suddenly; I jumped out of the bathtub and wrapped a towel around my bust. I inspected my face in the mirror, and picked up a sloppy tendril of hair - then let it slip down over my tender abdomen, my hair had a silver hint in this light. I hastily threw on some makeup, and then attempted to allow unruly waves to go untethered. Finally, after minutes of futile approach, I fastened the wisps back into a secure compliance.

With another quick check, I glance out the window at the early autumn sun, so I grab my things - give Trin's tail a gentle tug - and venture out to Sunday's farmer's market at the Bay.

I’ll be back in a bit.

Trin's tail wagged in response, all the while not leaving his charmed position on the couch.

Spoiled much? I laughed as I locked the front door.

The unexpected thunderstorm had not deflected the merchants and farmers from selling their goods. The market was bustling. Full of life, from the change from the mundane - no doubt. Tiny iridescent beads caressed the flowers and trees, as the salty sea air wafted around my ears and neck. I strolled among the booths, slowly enjoying my time in the crisp, clean morning air. I picked out a week's worth of produce for myself, grazing my fingers along the baskets of various nuts and seeds; the smell of my second coffee soaring up toward my nostrils. The scent of seeds, coffee beans, accompanied by the drying wet earth, greeted me with much needed contagious contentment.

I immediately became aware of someone staring at me. Sheepishly, I peered out of the corner of my eye, and under the protective shield of my sunglasses. I could make out two large, lean hands, that were casually strumming the seeds as well. Unexpectedly, my sunglasses fell on the small pile of seeds, stripping me of my slight security. I quickly reached for the glasses the same moment he did.

The moment his hand intercepted mine, my eyes darted up to meet his. I expected the usual rush of embarrassment, but the oddest thing happened - it wasn’t there. I felt like I knew him. I had never been great at recalling faces. Something in his eyes held a familiarity to my own; though, they were completely opposite in color. A sharp rush of air forced its way between us, jostling his dark hair across his perfect forehead. It was silly really - to think a forehead to be perfect, but it was.

Nervously, I jerked my hand back. He then offered my sunglasses, which I hesitantly took with a meager Thank you.

One side of his mouth curled into a smile, and he stood back and squared back his shoulders. I placed my sunglasses back on my face where they belong, and behind their barrier I was able to take note of his stature. He was tall - almost a foot taller than me, with languid limbs and dark, wavy hair that slightly concealed the outer corner of his greyish blue eyes. I guessed he was a bit older than me, but I wasn’t a great guage on age either. A secured warmth seemed to radiate from him, a sense of calm whispered over my skin, leaving me in a state of permeated ease.

Do you like seeds?

His voice sounded as I expected it, level and smooth…like cream being poured.

Sure … of course.

Was he coaxing me?

I watched as he pinched a pumpkin seed between his thumb and forefinger, and held it up to the light, genuinely inspecting it.

Big things, have small beginnings.

He slightly pursed his lips, and tossed the seed into my hand.

How rude … I have forgotten to introduce myself. I am Micheal Killian Baines. He reached out to shake my hand.

I’m Joryn Merope Quill, but everyone calls me Joryn.

I don’t know why I introduced myself with my full name. I felt a little foolish, but he had told me his full name; maybe Killian was part of his first name. I don’t think I had ever heard that name before. Perhaps, it was a family name. It suited him though. Micheal Killian was handsome and regal; not in the way society views such a person. He was handsome because of the spark of life in his eyes, and something not trivial or temporary as good looks; though, he was nice to look at. No, he was much more than that. His appeal was something else.

As I shook his hand, two seagulls squawked awkwardly overhead - then one swooped down to retrieve a discarded pretzel close to my