#realta

JUNE 1, 2015 — THE TOWER — RÉALTA

I’m sitting at my piano, daydreaming about what it would be like to lie in a meadow, surrounded by wildflowers, with sunlight on my face. I long to experience nature—from the wildness of the great outdoors to the tranquility of a garden—and to do things like lie beneath a starry sky or dance in the rain, but I know I’ll never have that opportunity.

I try to be grateful for the life I have—the fact that I’m alive at all—but every day it becomes increasingly difficult because, if I’m completely honest, it’s not a life…it’s an existence.

Since my birth, every moment of my twenty-two years has been spent within this windowless tower; I’ve never set foot outside of it. The only interactions I have are with two others…and those are very few and far between.

Celyse is the first. She visits only once a year; it’s been that way since I was three and a half. Because of what I am, both my intelligence and memory border on excessive, and they—along with my language and motor skills—manifested incredibly early in life. I began speaking in complete sentences when I was two and a half, and by age three, I was able to speak, read, and write on an adult level. At three and a half, I was able to perform self-care tasks: bathing, dressing, brushing my hair and teeth, and feeding myself. At that time, Celyse—who originally visited twice daily, but those visits eventually tapered to once monthly as I became more capable—settled into the routine of annual visits.

The second is…well, I don’t know his name. I don’t even really know who he is; I’ve never actually met him. He and I sporadically connect telepathically—the first time was when I was sixteen. I was sitting on my small sofa, reading, when I felt like I wasn’t alone. It took me several minutes to figure out that I had made a telepathic connection with someone. After the initial shock wore off, I realised that the ‘someone’ was a man, and that he was pleading—with what or whom, I had no idea.

“Please, let this be the time that kills me. I can’t keep going like this…I can’t keep going at all. Please, let this be the end,” repeated in my mind, over and over.

This man’s pleas for death made something inside my chest ache. Unsure of what to do, but unwilling to let him suffer alone, I did the first thing that popped into my mind: I sang to him, out loud, letting the words echo inside my mind.

“Sé mo laoch mo ghile mear Sé mo Shaesar, ghile mear Ní fhuaras féin aon tsuan ná séan Ó chuaigh i gcéin mo ghile mear”

Just as I finished that line, an overwhelming, searing, agonising pain filled my head; it was horrible enough that I fainted. I was fortunate that this didn’t occur on the one day Celyse visited: given that I’m impervious to injury and illness, having to explain that not only had I telepathically linked with someone, but that I’d also been affected by their pain to the point of fainting, would have been…difficult.

The second—and, so far, last—time I connected with him was last year, when I was twenty-one. It was essentially a repeat of the first time, but this time the pain didn’t cause me to pass out, and I was able to sing a little more to him before the connection broke. I also somehow managed to get a fleeting glimpse of his eyes. I couldn’t tell what colour they were—his pupils were so blown that they almost completely blocked his irises—but if I ever saw them like that, I’d recognise them instantly.

Even now, they haunt my dreams.

When I wake from one of these dreams—which I have sporadically—I always have butterflies in my stomach and something inside me practically screaming ‘mine!’ Of course, my reaction does nothing but confound me, making it impossible for me to fall back asleep.

I’d had one of those dreams again, which is why I was sitting at the piano, trying to pour my feelings into music. Shaking off the daydream, I begin playing one of my favourite pieces: Beethoven’s Sonata quasi una Fantasia, Opus 27, Number 2—also known as Moonlight Sonata.

About halfway through, Celyse suddenly appears, startling me. She’s holding something in her arms.

“Wh-what…” I begin, but she speaks over me.

“You must listen to me, Réalta. There is not much time,” she says rapidly.

She sounds panicked; her tone alarms me. She hands me what she was carrying, which turns out to be a satchel containing a large, leather-bound book and a thick envelope. At her urging, I sling the satchel over my shoulder so that the strap runs diagonally across my torso.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“You are leaving.”

“But that’s…that’s impossible. I can’t leave.”

“I have found a way. There is a letter in that bag that will explain everything, but now I need you to trust me.” She looks at me, her expression filled with something I’ve never seen before. “When you arrive where you are going, you will find yourself with people you can trust—to whom you can reveal your true nature. All will be well, but you must go now.”

Beneath the panic in her tone, I hear the ring of sincerity.

I nod. “Okay.”

Celyse begins an incantation in what sounds like Sumerian, though she’s chanting too rapidly for me to be sure. As she chants, a glowing, glyph-filled circle appears on the floor, and I stare at it, stunned. She gestures me toward it; as I step into the centre, the air around me seems to shimmer. Rainbow lights swirl around me, their colours and brightness increasing in intensity as they move, and Celyse’s voice begins to fade as a buzzing fills my ears. Eventually, the lights become too bright even for my eyes, and I close them. A short while later, the glow through my eyelids dims, and the buzzing sound begins to fade.

I open my eyes, and gasp at what I see, slowly spinning to take it all in. I’m in a large, grassy area, surrounded on three sides by trees; a lake with a small dock occupies the fourth side. There’s a house—a cabin—in the clearing, with a car parked near it. I see that I’m a few feet away from a stepping-stone path running between the cabin and the dock.

‘Earth…I’m on Earth! And I’m standing in the sunshine…on grass!’ I think. ‘Real, fresh, wild grass!’

I fall to my knees and place my hands on the ground. The grass is soft and springy, and I love it. I flop flat onto my back, flapping my arms and legs back and forth, filled with joy.

As I’m lying there, flailing about, I hear voices. I’m not worried; what I am means that I can handle anything that Earth can throw at me, so I continue my antics. The voices grow louder, and eventually a man leans over me, looking quite perturbed. Seeing his expression, I stop flapping and stare at him.

“Are you alright, miss?” he asks.

I simply nod in response, a huge grin on my face.

“How…who…what…” he seems to be having trouble deciding what to ask. “Who are you?”

I stand as I reply. “My name is Réalta. Who are you?”

He looks slightly taken aback, whether from my nonchalant tone, or the fact that I just randomly appeared in his yard, I’m not sure.

“I’m Tony Stark. Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.”

I hear a feminine chuckle to my right.

“Hi, I’m Pepper Potts. Please excuse Tony…he loves to say that line,” she says, a warm smile on her face.

She extends her hand, and I stare blankly at it for a moment until it dawns on me that she’s offering me a handshake.

“Sorry…I’ve never had a handshake before,” I say as I extend my hand and complete the gesture.

Tony and Pepper look at each other, expressions of shock on their faces. Tony recovers first.

“Well, Réalta, why don’t you come inside with us, so we can talk?” he asks.

“Would it be alright if we talked out here?” I ask. “Please?”

Tony opens his mouth to respond, but Pepper speaks first.

“Of course, Réalta. That would be fine. Y’know, we were just about to sit down to breakfast when you…arrived.” She gives me another smile. “And now that I’m out here, I think a breakfast picnic would be nice. Are you hungry?”

“Oh. I ate two days ago. I don’t need to eat right now. Thank you, though,” I reply. “And please, do not postpone your meal on my account. It’s also unnecessary for you to picnic; I am perfectly fine waiting out here while you enjoy your food.”

She and Tony share another look.

“If you’re sure you don’t mind…” she begins.

“Pepper,” Tony grits out under his breath.

“Tony, hush,” she replies in the same fashion.

“I don’t mind at all,” I say.

“Alright. We won’t be long. Come on, Tony.”

The pair head toward the house. I watch until they disappear inside, then I sit down on the grass. After a few moments, I can’t resist lying down again; I flop onto my back and stare up at the sky, watching the fluffy clouds drift lazily by.

“Thank you, Celyse,” I murmur.

A while later, I hear Tony and Pepper returning. Sitting up, I see that Tony is carrying a tray with a pitcher and three cups, and Pepper is carrying a folded blanket. When they reach me, I stand and help Pepper spread the blanket out. Once we do that, Tony sets the tray in the centre, and we all sit around it.

“So, Réalta…who—what—are you?” Tony asks once we’re all settled.

“I—”

“And don’t play games.” Tony’s tone is harsh as he continues. “You appear out of thin air—literally—at our cabin, yet make no attempt to enter the building. Instead, you lie in the grass and flail around like you’re making a snow angel. You say that you’ve never had a handshake before, and that you haven’t eaten in two days but ‘don’t need to eat right now’.” He pauses, and when he speaks again, his tone is slightly softer. “You look human, yet you’re clearly not…so what are you?”

Celyse’s words replay in my mind. ‘When you arrive where you are going, you will find yourself with people you can trust—to whom you can reveal your true nature.’

I draw in a deep breath. “This will sound very unusual, but I promise it is the truth,” I say before answering Tony’s question.

Translation (This is part of an old Irish song, “Mo Ghile Mear” (My Gallant Darling).) My gallant darling is my hero My gallant darling is my Caesar I have had neither sleep nor good fortune Since my gallant darling went far away