A Suitable Realm

by Sara Kreider

“Harold! It’s nice to see you again. It’s been quite a while. Tell me, how have you been doing?”

            Doctor Amy Halstead settled into a large armchair next to a softly burning fireplace. Across from her, in a matching chair, sat a stout, kind-eyed, ginger-haired man wearing a wide smile and a tattered winter coat.

            “Very well, Doctor! Better than ever, actually!” He wriggled out of his coat and draped it across his lap. “I have much to tell you! I’ve had some tremendous breakthroughs recently and I knew no one would appreciate them as much as you would, given our extensive visits over the years.”

            Doctor Halstead forced a polite smile. She thought more highly of Harold than she did of all her patients, but he wouldn’t be back if his breakthroughs had been the healthy kind.

            “All right, tell me about it.”

Harold took a deep breath. “I’ve finally found a spell that can teleport me back to the Realm of Wizards!”

            Doctor Halstead’s smile abruptly drooped into a concerned frown. If Harold noticed, he didn’t react.

            “It’s the real thing this time. It’s draws on the power of the solar eclipse that’s happening tomorrow. Very little room for error! I’m finally going home, Doctor!”

            Now Harold looked with heavy anticipation at the psychiatrist. She opened her mouth to respond, then, having second thoughts, quickly closed it. Another moment passed when she finally spoke.

            “Harold, I’m a bit confused. Last time we met, we had…or rather, you had, come to the conclusion that all of these beliefs about being a wizard were…delusions. You seemed relieved at our last meeting. I considered it a major breakthrough. I thought you did too.” Doctor Halstead sighed. “You even said that you, and I’m quoting you, ‘finally feel free now that I know this was all in my head.’”

            Now Harold’s excited smile turned to an expression of thoughtfulness. “Oh, right. Yes. I did say that.”

            “Yes, Harold, you said that.”

            Harold scratched his cheek absently. “Well, that was…a…lie,” he admitted. “I really did enjoy talking to you all those years, but once the legal requirements were met, I had to devote my time to the more pressing issue: developing a spell to get home. But today I am here of my own free will! No court order! Doctor, you’re the only person who could understand what this means to me.”

Doctor Halstead blinked. “Oh,” she said. “I see.”

            Harold smiled innocently. Again, a moment passed.

            “Harold, I hope you can see the problem with what you’ve done. You’ve essentially put us back at square one.” Obviously disheartened, Doctor Halstead retrieved a pen and notepad from a nearby end table. She began scribbling notes. “But I am very glad you came to see me. I admire your honesty. Believe it or not, that is a sign of progress. I assume you’ve stopped taking your medication?”

            “Oh, I never took the medication, but that’s not important,” Harold said, leaning forward earnestly. “Doctor, listen. You already know all about my dilemma. You know I’m a wizard, a magical being, trapped in a nonmagical world, sent here in my youth due to a spell gone awry. I’m sure you have many files full of the details I’ve shared with you. Nothing has changed except one major thing: I found the right spell! I’ve prepared it, and I’ll be executing it tomorrow. I come only to share this news and extend an invitation: come see me off. Put your mind at ease about me. Let me show you that I am telling the truth!”

            Doctor Halstead paused, her pen still firmly against the page. He wasn’t wrong. They had spent countless hours going over Harold’s detailed descriptions of the magical world he claimed to come from, as well as the reasons why he had to get back, and his attempts at doing so. She knew it all inside and out. Yet, of all her patients, Harold had been her favorite. Not because his tales amused her, but because of his sincerity and goodness. From her perspective, Harold WAS a misfit, not a wizard, perhaps, but a regular human being who had been dealt an unfair hand. An orphan who had aged out of the system, now working odd jobs to pay his bills, never able to maintain steady employment, he struggled his whole life to belong anywhere. His outspokenness about being a wizard didn’t help. Yet, she had been continually struck by his humble demeanor and the respect with which he treated her and others, although that confession about the medication was concerning. But they could address that later.

She truly worried about this poor man.

Harold waited patiently as she worked though her thoughts. An expression of satisfied relief washed across his face as she placed the notepad back on the table and leaned back in her chair.

            “Okay,” she said. “Tell me why you believe this spell will work.”

            “With all due respect,” Harold said gleefully. “I would much rather show you.”

*

Amy Halstead drove slowly along the narrow street. Unsurprisingly, it was in a poorer part of town. She wasn’t sure why she was here. It was completely against her code of conduct, not only her personal code, but the code of the entire psychiatric community. She would be reprimanded harshly if any of her colleagues ever found out about this. She’d probably lose her job.

            But had any of them ever had a patient like Harold? Sure, there were plenty of patients who identify as something absurd, like a goat or their own mother, but unlike the rest of them, Harold seemed to harness a strong sense of self-awareness, and an ambivalence towards the harsh opinions others may have had of him. Besides her, Harold didn’t seem concerned with convincing people he was a wizard if they didn’t believe him, which no one did. She recalled one session where he had mentioned that the neighborhood kids teasingly referred to him as old man Potter, a reference to the fictional boy wizard. What had interested Doctor Halstead was that it wasn’t the teasing that upset him, but their choice of insult. “Harry Potter is the most absurd literature of this realm,” he had complained. “It’s ridiculous to suggest that a magical population would exist secretly within a nonmagical population. The wizards would obviously be the population in power, and the muggles would be living in the underground! But the most unbelievable part is that they could coexist peacefully for any length of time at all. Wizards need to be in a world where magic is a shared quality, not just among the people, but among the beasts, and the plants. The environment itself must be conducive to magic, which, I can confirm, this realm is not.”

            “Then what would you say is the shared quality of this ‘realm,’ as you call it?” she had asked.

            “Conflict,” he answered. “The pursuit of dominance. Every organism here has an innate compulsion to establish themselves as better and stronger than their peers at all costs. That’s a major reason why I can’t thrive here like I could in my realm.”

            “Surely not every organism you’ve encountered has caused you to feel that way,” Amy had countered. “You’ve certainly had a difficult time in life but there have been people who’ve helped you and been kind to you, haven’t there?”

            “Don’t misunderstand me; I don’t mean to imply that all people here are mean or unfair. It’s just obvious that in every interaction I’ve had, something has been expected: money, goods, compliments, gratitude, useful advice or information, or most often, agreement with their perceived superior opinions or attitudes, especially when I inform them of my identity as a wizard. Those things are expected because people here only want to rise in status among their peers. They want to be thought well of. I am learning to accept that that’s just how this world functions.”

            “And you have never cared what people think of you?”

            “No. It doesn’t even bother me that you don’t believe me to be a wizard, because I think you are one of the better people I’ve met in this realm.”

            Amy had felt a pang of satisfaction at those words, but had quickly buried it when she thought she saw a hint of self-confirmation in Harold’s eye.

It really did seem to her at times that Harold came from a different world.

            The sidewalks were crowded with people in lawn chairs glancing up at the sky, bundled in puffy coats and jackets, all of them fiddling with little paper glasses, special shades for viewing the impending eclipse. The congregates made it difficult to view the house numbers from the street but finally, Amy was able to make out the number Harold had given her. It was a small house covered in faded, heavily chipped blue paint. The screen door hung on only one hinge, and the lawn was more dirt than grass. She pulled into the drive. This was the only house on the street that people weren’t gathered in front of, giving it an abandoned feel. Again she questioned what she was doing here.

            As soon as she turned off her engine, Harold appeared from around the side of the house, grinning widely. Amy frowned. She had hoped she’d have time to reconsider before knocking.

            Harold opened her car door. “You’ve surprised me, Doctor! No one has ever accepted any of my invitations, so I had resigned myself to leave this realm as alone as when I arrived! Welcome!”

            Hesitantly stepping out of the car, she noticed many of the neighbors shifting their eyes from the sky to her. She knew that Harold had an unfavorable reputation among his neighbors, not just because of the teasing children. He didn’t seem to understand why they shunned him, but he also didn’t see anything wrong with rifling through their trashcans or pillaging their gardens for materials to use in his “spells.” Indeed, the whole reason the two of them were acquainted was because he didn’t see a problem with excavating the pet cemetery of a family two blocks over. Harold’s assumption that people wouldn’t mind sharing that which they were “done with” or “not using” had gained him court-ordered psychotherapy.

“We only have a few minutes until the eclipse,” Harold said, pulling her through a rickety gate into the backyard.

            The gate slammed shut behind them and Doctor Halstead felt like she had been pulled into a cave. The backyard was enclosed with a tall black wooden fence, only sparse patches of weeds grew from the layer of dirt and dead leaves that made up the ground. But most odd was a vast patchwork of black tarps, crudely sewn together, draped across the top of the fencing, covering the yard like a ceiling. At first she thought the tarps had holes worn in them, but upon closer inspection she found the holes were actually carefully cut-out shapes. Burning candles in various sized jars were arranged across the ground, creating an eerie glow. The air smelled strongly of sage.

            “In my research, I was led to a book of spells in a shop just outside of Boston,” Harold said. “Something another trapped wizard undoubtedly must have written, although no author was listed. In it, I discovered a list of the few magical elements this realm contains. With the help of that and other books I’ve collected over the years, I was able to come up with this spell. A solar eclipse is one of the most magical cosmic events to occur in any realm, so I couldn’t let this one go to waste.”

            Amy settled into a dilapidated lawn chair close to the wall of the house. “Harold,” she said, still taking in her strange surroundings. “I know you invited me here with the intent that I would just be an observer, but do you mind if I play the Devil’s Advocate for a moment?”

            “Do as you please,” Harold removed his coat and threw it on the ground next to her, “but understand, I will proceed.”

            “I understand. But Harold, have you considered the possibility that this spell may not work in the way that that you expect? What is your plan if the eclipse passes and you’re still here, in your backyard, without magic?”

            “Irrelevant, Doctor. Now, I realize how important the modesty of others is to the people of this realm, so I feel I should warn you, I am required to remove my shirt for this process.”

            “Harold, it’s thirty degrees out. Do you think that’s wise?”

            “For my purposes, yes.”

Doctor Halstead shifted in her chair. She couldn’t see the sky from where she sat because of the tarped ceiling, but the daylight coming through the cutouts was noticeably growing dimmer.

            “The eclipse is beginning,” Harold said as he slipped off his sweatshirt. She stirred uneasily as she noticed rune-like markings drawn all over his chest and arms. The sight gave her an odd mixture of discomfort and curiosity. She knew he took his identity as a wizard very seriously, but this is the first time she had witnessed any sort of pagan ritual. She wanted to leave, but she was compelled to see what might happen.

He seemed to notice her nervousness. “Doctor, please let me again express my gratitude for your presence. Know that you are in no danger. But stay where you are for the remainder of the process. I am going to position myself in the center of my threshold and begin my incantations. When the eclipse passes, I will have shifted between realms. So long! And thank you.”

“So long, Harold,” she meant it disingenuously, but she was surprised to find that her body was filling with anticipation. “Are you sure you don’t need a coat?” she asked, not knowing what else to say.

“Absolutely sure. Farewell, Doctor!”

Doctor Halstead watched, openly curious now, as Harold positioned himself in the middle of the yard, underneath the largest opening in the tarp ceiling. The cutout was shaped like a sun, swirling tails extending from a large circular center. He laid flat on his back, spreading out each of his limbs widely from his body. His face lay directly in the lessening sunlight. Noticing this, Doctor Halstead began fumbling around in her pocketbook.

“Harold! Wait! You’ll need some of these special solar eclipse glasses; you shouldn’t look directly at it!” She found a pair that she had been carrying around and held them out, but Harold seemed oblivious. He stared straight up into the sky, unblinking, his lips moving rapidly though the words he muttered were so quiet she hadn’t even realized he was saying anything until she had looked directly at him.

Then suddenly, as if a switch was flipped, the candles abruptly blew out and the dark space became pitch black. The only light was coming from…Harold? His entire being seemed to be emitting a faint glow. Doctor Halstead shuddered. Surely this was some trick of the eyes. Some effect of the strange setup.

She slipped the glasses over her own eyes. Standing, she tentatively moved a little further into the yard, positioning herself so that she could see the eclipse through one of the cut-outs in the tarp. A beautiful flaming ring surrounding a dark center, almost like a black hole. It was a stunning sight.

“Oh, Harold, are you seeing this?” she said. “It’s lovely!”

But just as quickly as the lights went out, they came back on again, and the flames dancing around the black hole in the sky began to trickle into its dark center, gradually filling it with light again. Doctor Halstead turned her attention back to Harold. To her relief, he didn’t seem to be glowing after all.

He still lay in the middle of the yard, shirtless and muttering. Doctor Halstead found herself unsurprised that he was…well, still here. Yet, in a corner of her soul, she was surprised to find a heavy feeling she knew well: sympathy.

“Harold, it’s over,” she said.

The glazed look in his eyes softened. Slowly, Harold sat up and looked around, his eyes widening. Then he looked at Doctor Halstead.

“I am so sorry, Doctor.”

“Harold,” Doctor Halstead moved forward and took his hand to help him to his feet, “please don’t be sorry, I’m sorry. I know how much this meant to you. But we’ll have plenty of time to talk about it. Not here: you’ll have to call my office on Monday. Can I please get you your coat?”

“Oh, no, I’m quite warm now.”

As he spoke, Doctor Halstead realized she too was warm. In fact, the air itself was significantly warmer than it had been a few minutes ago.

She snatched the glasses off her face and scanned the makeshift cave.

At first glance, the backyard seemed the same, but now she noticed, starting at the corners of the yard, bright flowers were springing up, spreading towards the center slowly enough to be inconspicuous when one wasn’t looking, but fast enough to track with the naked eye when one was.

Harold reached up and began yanking the tarps down. Doctor Halstead gasped. The sky was a soft purple. Strange birds that buzzed liked bees flew by overhead. In the corner of her eye, she noticed the sun becoming free from the shadow of the passing moon and the world lit up brightly, and she knew without a doubt that this was not the world she had been in just moments before.

“I meant that I am sorry that I took you with me.” Harold wadded up the tarps and threw them in the corner of the yard. “I knew that spell would be powerful; I figured you would be safe where I left you, but look at that, I even pulled the house along too!” He laughed, almost giddy, placed his hands on his hips, closed his eyes, and breathed in sharply. “Ah, yes! I did it!” He smiled widely, and as he opened his eyes, Doctor Halstead saw that they glistened with tears, and she too felt tears coming to her eyes. Not tears of fear, or anxiety, or disbelief, but of happiness. For Harold. He looked…complete. And it filled her with emotion.

“I made it, Doctor! I’m finally where I belong!”