Fiona returned to the bathroom and the mirror was in exactly the same condition as she left it just a couple minutes earlier.  The lack of reflection where one should rightly be was unnerving but it seemed somehow reminiscent of the night before, only this time it wasn't the shadows.  Fiona was able to reach up a hand and place it where the reflective surface of the mirror should be and it met with no resistance.   Her fingers passed the threshold that they should have rightly rested upon, confirming that indeed, the mirror had somehow become a portal into another place that looked to be a mirror image of the one she was standing in.

She stared at the mirror for a few minutes, the wheels in her mind turning.  This was real.  She wasn't crazy.  She'd disappeared last night into some nightmare world of disembodied voices and bull beasts.  Now, she was faced with another strange world where things looked so similar, but probably weren't.  Didn't Horror movies always have evil mirror images and strange monsters 'through the looking glass'?  It didn't look as dangerous as that other world had, though.  And Fiona refused to keep running away.  She'd always had control of her life, even if she had no intentions of taking it anywhere but her single wide trailer and her waitressing job.  Worst of all, even with the events of the night before, Fiona was still young enough to consider herself invulnerable and decades away from death.

"All right, you know what...this is ridiculous."  People were only afraid of that which they didn't understand.  She didn't understand this mirror portal, but she was damn sure going to.  She climbed up on the closed toilet lid, then carefully stood on the vanity, feet inside the sink and tried to determine her best way through the moderately sized mirror.  She cringed at the idea of going head first, but she couldn't think of another viable way to do it.  "What the Hell."  She braced herself, positioned her hands as if she was going to dive, and jumped.  She felt a strange sensation on her exposed skin as she passed through that mirror portal, then knocked her head against a hard surface and awkwardly landed on the ground with a half roll.  "Fuck,"  She cursed, rubbing the back of her head.

The vanity above her rocked on this side of the mirror.  On the reverse side it didn't move.  On the side she just left it didn't move.  Reality seemed to set in as Fiona knew in her heart that she was somehow on the other side of the mirror.  It was however still her home on the other side of the mirror.  Things were in the places she had put them.  The hallway was lit and there was a noise out in the living room on this side of the mirror, a snort that somehow sounded familiar.

Footsteps in the hallway growing closer when suddenly in the doorway, a tall well dressed black man with the head of a large black bull looked in on Fiona.  "Hello," he said with a deep resonant voice.

Fiona jumped in surprise.  She'd been expecting a bull not...what was that thing called again?  Right, a Minotaur.  Like in the maze.  With the gold thread and junk, she remembered now.  Her deep brown, doe eyes swept over him with curiosity and an appraising quality she always used when looking at unknown men...and Minotaurs, apparently.  She ran her hands through her mussed red hair and tried not to look as weirded out as she felt.  "Hey!...you..."  She greeted lamely, swallowing hard.  "You look...different."  She observed in a halting voice that had risen a little with anxiety.    "Well...I mean, you look different if you're the same..."  Shoot!  A word that wouldn't offend him...it...him.  " Same one...from before.  In the dark place.  With the shelves and the voices and the screaming.  The screaming was me, but still...there was screaming."  A split second of embarrassed silence.  Not enough time for anyone to get a word in edgewise.  "Are you?  The same one who took me home last night...or are you different...maybe you exist here and he exists there..."  She stopped herself with a deep sigh.  "I'm sorry...I'm a little freaked out so I'm babbling.  Not a character trait I've noticed in myself before, but hey, walking through shadows and jumping through mirrors will do that to a person won't it?"  Oh God, what if this one wasn't good like the other?  She groped behind her on the counter of the vanity, her hand closing around the tall glass she used to rinse and spit when she washed her teeth.  Her bravado had deserted her and she was not questioning her choices.

"It is I, Fiona.  I am your guide.  My form is determined by the world in which you travel.  I help you find your way.  Beyond that, I know precious little else."  The large bull eyes blinked and he reached up and rubbed his head where the horn protruded from the skull.  His black hand scratched at the fur.  "Where would you like to go?" he asked and straightened his dark tie and smoothed it against his dress shirt, tucking the end of the tie behind the one button of the suit jacket.

"Where would I like to go?"  She repeated softly, staring at him with a far away expression.  Better question was, where wouldn't she like to go?  But Fiona's thrill of excitement quickly fizzled into one of mild concern.  "Wait...do you mean 'where would I like to go' in Adena Gorge...West Virginia...the country...the world...  And if I was to go somewhere else, would I be able to come home or would I be stuck there?"  Going to Paris would be fantastic, but not if she was stuck in a strange land with no identification and an inability to speak the language.  No, that wouldn't do at all.  "Can I get here...or there...through any mirror or patch of shadows or does it have to be a specific one...?"  Her voice trailed off as she realized she didn't know what to call him.  "Do you have a name?"

"I have whatever name you give me.  I know that at least I can guide you to your destination, should the ability exist to enter these worlds then I will find it."  The bull's head flicked an ear a couple of times and he sidestepped down the narrow hallway back towards the living room.  "Paris is this way," he said.

"You can take me all the way to Paris from my bathroom mirror?"  She asked in disbelief.  "That's absolutely crazy.  I'm not really dressed for Paris, though."  Fiona glanced down at the tall glass she still held in her right hand.  She may have relaxed while talking to this strange animal guide of hers, but she hadn't put down her makeshift weapon or even thought about it for the last few minutes.  Now, she looked back up at the Minotaur.  "Is this place just like mine?  I mean...do I have clothes here?  I really would  like to see Paris, but not in a dirty night shirt and jeans with scuffed tennis shoes, no make up, no bra, and without my hair brushed.  That actually sounds like a nightmare I had once."  She offered him a small smile.  "So, Angus, can you show me to my closet here in the looking glass and then take me to Paris?"  She asked imploringly.  Fiona wasn't sure if he looked like an Angus, but it was the only name that came to mind when faced with a nameless black bull.  So, Angus it would be.

The bull was slightly confused at first but picked up quick on its name assignment.  He shuffled sideways down the hall to the bedroom and walked into the room.  The bed was missing and the room was empty.  He opened the closet, and a creature vaguely resembling a cat with a long prehensile tail is hanging from the clothes rod.  It opens one eye and first examines the bull headed creature then Fiona, "Hello, welcome to our world."  It's voice is amazingly close to that of Orson Welles.

Fiona froze, staying completely still for a moment until she had finally absorbed this new development. A laugh bubbled up from her chest and exploded outward in great guffaws that left her red faced and breathless.  "I'm sorry,"  She spluttered bracing one hand against the wall as she gasped for air.  "That was incredibly rude of me.  I just...I was expecting clothes, shoes, boxes of pictures and knick knacks that I don't have a place for...not the Cheshire Cat.  I really meant no offense.  I'm Fiona, "  She started to lift her right hand as if she expected to shake hands, then stopped and bit back a giggle.  "Thank you for...welcoming me.  Everything so far seems very unexpected."  She pushed off the wall and rested her hands on her hips again, looking the cat up and down.  "So, Angus here has already explained that he's my...spirit guide?  Animal guide?  Tour guide?  Something along those lines.  Do you have a job here?  Or a name?"

"I am Molexander.  No job.  I don't need to work, work works for me, you see.  So I can do what I please.  It's a better system than the other way around.  This Cheshire Cat you speak of, one other has mentioned it before.  But I'm not a cat nor a Cheshire, nor from Cheshire nor from Cat.  But perhaps someday I may visit."  Molexander rotates upward until it is hanging up instead of down and then climbs down its tail and sits on the curtain rod.  "And no offense taken, I didn't expect to find a girl opening up my mid morning catnap, but I don't typically laugh when I'm surprised.  Live and let live I suppose.  Is there something other than guiding I can help you with? Since you've already found that."

Molexander smiles a wide grin and it appears almost exactly like the various drawings and sketches throughout the ages, but more so like the original John Tenniel illustrations.  As he smiles a stripe of purple runs down around his body an limbs like a barbershop pole slowly revealing itself.

Fiona's surprise was beginning to wear off.  After jumping through her mirror, meeting a minotaur, and encountering the cat from a beloved children's novel, nothing was going to surprise her.  Not anymore.  She also fought back the overwhelming urge to ask if he knew how a raven was like a writing desk.  Squandering knowledge seemed like a stupid thing to do.  Especially with someone...or something...that might have all of the answers she sought. 

"Actually, Molexander, Sir, I do have a few inquiries.  You said there was another...who mentioned the Cheshire Cat.  Did...that person come through a looking glass, too?  With an animal guide?  Recently, maybe?  And could you happen to tell me where exactly 'here' is?  Angus didn't have a lot of information for me, but you certainly seem very well informed."

"No guide at all, at all,
though she could get really big and really small,
not much of a power at all,
don't you think. 

And it happened so long ago I'm told,
but to answer your question and be so bold,
you are, of course, on this side of the threshhold."

The Cheshire Cat sways and swing on the rod spinning over it once or twice, seeming to smile all the while.  "And now my questions of you, did she speak of me that one?  Does this animal guide of yours know anything at all?  Where is 'there' that is not 'here'?"

Fiona subconsciously rubbed at her temples.  This cat was beginning to give her a headache.  "Oh yeah, she talked of you often."  She muttered, "Didn't do you justice, though."  It was just like a cat to give her no valuable information at all.  Why couldn't she have run into a nice, friendly, well informed dog?  Or an owl, weren't they supposed to be in the know?  The fact that her mind had even gone in that direction made her begin to worry about her own sanity.  "Well...Angus isn't as wise as you are, but he's got very good timing.  And he is helpful."  Something she could not say for the feline.  She dropped her hands from her temples and rested them on her hips again, her good humor was beginning to fade.  This cat was down right annoying.  "Here can't be there, now can it?  Because if here was there that closet would be full of clothes, not talking cats who answer questions with questions and very well rhymed riddles.  Actually, I would have liked to have had some of my clothes since Angus was going to take me to Paris.  I'm not really dressed to go anywhere but through a mirror to have a cat talk circles around me." 

"Nor from cat nor cat, oh, I've already told you that.  Ah well, here you go."  The cat swung and then disappeared behind the curtain rod as though a fake wall had been built up in front of it.  Dropping as soon as he disappeared was a rack of clothes, but it zipped back up disappearing and the cat reappeared and seemed to alter gravity for itself only falling forward towards Fiona and looking her in the eyes, its tail extending and the cat coming close.  Angus stepped up close behind her, his breath warm on the back of her neck.  "A Word in advice from a Warden adverse, Dont' let anyone out, especially not the Jabberwock.  Ta-ta." The cat flipped down and back up around behind the rod again, dropping a rack of clothes in place all on hangers and not a single scrap of them hers.  The clothes all seemed to be of some classier fashion bearing insignia for Coins, Clubs, Swords, Cups, and Numbers.

Fiona flipped through the clothes with a puzzled frown.  "I was expecting hearts, clubs, spades, and diamonds."  Still, the images brought to mind cards.  She fingered through them again, more slowly, and it finally dawned on her.  "Tarot card suits?"  It made about as much sense as anything in this world did.  She pulled out a few articles of clothing, holding them in front of her body and comparing the size and cut.  She was tempted to try a few on, though she gravitated towards those with the coin insignia more than the numbers, clubs, swords, or cups.  Still, instinct was telling her to put the clothes back in the closet and go home right away before anything else happened...like encountering the Jabberwock.  Then again, Fiona had always secretly wanted more than Adena Gorge could offer her.  Only problem was, she didn't have the personal drive to make it happen for herself.  Now, here was a way out standing within a few feet of her, breathing his strange bull breath down the back of her neck, and she was just going to turn around and ask to go home?  "What the hell.."  She plucked the deep yellow dress off it's hanger and slipped out of her scuffed up tennis shoes.  She should have felt more nervous about changing clothes in front of a Minotaur, but he seemed harmless enough.  So, she shimmied out of her jeans, discarded her t-shirt, and slipped on the much more expensive ensemble.  She was careful to remember her purse, then turned in Angus's direction and gave him a small, semi-uncertain smile.  "All right, I think that's that, then. Let's go."  What was the worst that could happen?

The yellow dress had 5 coins embroidered onto the front of it like a faux necklace and fit quite well, accentuating her figure.  Angus snorted and shuffled carefully sideways down the hall watching his horns as he made his way to the living room and out the front door.  Outside, Fiona was greeted by a warm day, blue skies, and in place of her community of single wides, a community of mushroom dwellings.  her own house was a collection o tightly grown mushrooms with windows and door.  Angus looked around and a familiar white mist cropped up briefly around Fiona and Angus.  The mist lead out of the community and onto the main highway which was a dirt path in this strange world.  "There is something called a train down the road that will take us to the proper mirror," Angus said and walked with straight backed confidence down the dirt road.

Indeed the road went up a slight incline and once reaching the top of the incline, Fiona could see on the other side of the tiny hill a clearing amongst a grove of tall trees with a building in the middle made of clocks and watches and all manner of timepieces.  A sound in the woods on either side of the road alerted her that she was not alone and the crashing of brush echoed.

Fiona found herself distracted by the strange sights.  Her curiousity begged her stop and give the mushroom houses a closer inspection, to check and see if the kinds of trees were the same as back home or as remarkably, familiarly strange as the buildings and the clothes seemed to be.  She was equally intrigued by the clock building and wondered idly if there was a white rabbit living there.  That distraction left her a few too many steps behind Angus when the rustling in the bushes began.  She jumped, then scuttled ahead a little, her right hand already wrist deep in her purse as she sought out her pepper spray.  It probably wouldn't even do anything to the mirror folk, but she was sure she didn't want to run into a Jabberwock unarmed...  Well, no, that wasn't right.  She'd rather not run into anymore familiar characters unarmed.  She'd always found the denizens of Caroll's Wonderland to be a shade on the creepy side.

Angus led the way to the Clock building and upon close inspection it seemed that every clock had a different time, even if only by a second.  Into the clock building a train car was waiting, but there was no engine on the train, "In here, I feel," Angus said.  And gently took Fiona's hand and stepped her into the train car.  His hand was large and warm and smooth to the touch.  The bull's eyes blinked and he turned his head to allow his horns careful entry.

Inside the train car was a semi-circular booth with red velvet cushioning.  Angus sat down and encouraged Fiona to do the same.  "The mirror we seek will be in Paris," he says.

"What mirror would that be?" a tiny voice states and previously unnoticed before was a small man barely above another table at one of the corners of the car.  He stood in his seat and Fiona could see that he was probably no more than two feet tall, he was dressed in a white suit.  The train car began moving forward.

Fiona was not surprised.  In fact, she was beginning to feel like nothing was ever going to surprise her again.  Even Old Man Morgan, riding naked on the back of a unicorn through the middle of 'Wonderland' would not have elicited a shocked expression from Fiona today.  Still, she wasn't sure that she trusted this little man enough to actually answer his question.  If she remembered the characters from that beloved children's novel correctly, they all had a nefarious slant to them.  "Why, the mirror in Paris, Silly."  She scoffed with the insincere laugh she'd mastered at the diner when dealing with annoying customers who thought they were hilariously telling the same jokes she'd heard eighty times that day.  "I'm Fiona and this is Angus.  He doesn't say much.  Strong silent type.  And who might you be?"

"I am Bishop Solomon White.  It's a pleasure to meet you Fiona, Angus," he nods to both in turn.  "I'm not familiar with this Paris, is it a pleasant place?  I only see prisoners and no prisoner is kept in a pleasant place."

"Prisoners?"  Fiona asked, the insincere smile melting from her face.  "Well, no, Paris wouldn't be a good place to keep prisoners, I suppose.  I've never been before, but I hear it's lovely..."  Her voice trailed off into silence for several minutes.  "Do you mind my asking about your prisoners?  This seems like a rather pleasant place as well.  Surely there aren't a great deal of prisoners for you to transport."  Unless that wickedy queen bitch from the books was just randomly throwing people in the dungeon.  Though, that didn't explain why they were being transported via train.  Her confusion seemed to only get worse the more she talked to people.

"Well they are not my prisoners, I don't keep them, that is someone else's job.  I minister, this isn't my train either, I'm just a passenger.  This is a nice place to visit for sure but you wouldn't want to live here.  Maybe you are an escapee from your own prison?  Do I need to turn you in?  Do you need ministered to?  Virtue is staying where you are told to be, you know."  Bishop Solomon White folds one of his tiny hands into his vest as though he might begin a sermon.

"That's very wise,"  Fiona agreed, a little more cautiously now.  "But I'm not a prisoner, here or where I'm from.  I respect the law.  I'm very good at doing what I'm told, when I'm told."  She shifted a little closer to Angus, unsure if he would protect her from this strange little man or hand her over to him.  "I haven't been told to stay anywhere in particular, and I haven't yet found a place where I belong, Mr. Bishop, Sir.  When I do, I'm certain that I won't want to leave or do anything to make me a prisoner.  But I do appreciate you taking the time to advise me, since I must be rather unimportant in the scheme of things."

As the train comes to a stop, Mr. White offers a last bit of advice, "Well, keep a clear mind about you then.  Remember that if you find you are forced to settle in a single place, that you'll be a prisoner for sure, and I will then have to come minister to you, such is my job.  I am prisoner to the job and minister to myself when it is appropriate."  He places his tiny thumbs in the folds of his jacket like he is puffin gout his tiny chest. 

Angus stands, "This way," he says.  And leads Fiona from the train station building outside to a carnival of insects.  The streets of the carnival are paved with stands lining each side of the street.  The Insects which are all the same size as Fiona and paying her no attention are going about their business.  There are vendors selling food, games, and the like.  Rearing gigantically over the entire carnival is the Eiffel Tower as though she were the size of an insect.

A billowy white gauzy material unfolds from Fiona's arms and stretches out in front of her.  It appears as sleeves with no shirt from the elbows down.  "It is your turn to lead," Angus says.  A mother fly boots her maggots in front of her as she crosses in front of Fiona vibrating her wings at the annoying gauze.

Fiona frowned, fingering the gauze with the opposite hand, running the material over her thumb and forefinger.  "My turn?  Blind leading the blind comes to mind."  She muttered, looking around the spectacle laid out in front of her.  "You know, it's a good thing I'm not a complete priss like some of the girls I work with.  I know a few girls who would be curled in a ball crying with this many huge bugs wandering around."  She dropped the gauze she'd been examining and shrugged it off, attributing it to the dress she'd found in the closet that wasn't hers.  "Okay, I'm leading...then this way is better than just standing here, I guess."  she started off towards the Eiffel Tower and prayed she wasn't making a big mistake.

The gauze seemed to blow in front of her constantly as she walked towards the tower.  The feeling of the fabric was warm and soft almost like a silky air.  As she neared the tower, the wind directing the gauze shifted and flowed off to her left.  Angus and Fiona both looked and an elevator in the bottom of the tower foot had been installed.  The door opened and a single black ant walked out of the elevator opening and closing his mandibles in a chewing fashion.  "Going up then?" Angus asked.

Fiona hesitated.  Elevators were one of her least favorite things in the world.  She'd never admit to being afraid of them, but the idea of being suspended by cables with electric doors as your only escape, being pulled and dropped repeatedly through a building simply did not seem intelligent.  Worse yet, this particular elevator had windows and only went through the ironwork of the Eiffel Tower, affording a view of the city below as it pulled you higher and higher into the landmark.  Still, it was better than trying to climb the stairs.  The many, many stairs. 

Momentarily, Fiona wondered if the gauze was trying to lead her to the left, away from the tower, but she dismissed the thought as her imagination running away with her.  Last week she would have said she completely lacked imagination.  Now, she'd have a much harder time convincing herself of that fact.  She stepped inside and pressed the button for the top.  Holding her breath, she stared out at the strange insectoid civilization as it grew smaller and smaller and looked more and more like the world she had come to expect. 

The ride seemed to take forever, but just as her nerves were beginning to fray, she watched the final light indicate their arrival.  The doors opened and her sense were assailed by the sound of noisy tourists and the flash of cameras.  Fiona jumped, startled, and glanced to her right to ask Angus what was going on, but her guide was no longer there, and tourists were beginning to crowd in around her.  Human tourists.  She squeezed her way out of the throng of honeymooners and family units and stumbled out onto the observation deck to get a good, long, breathtaking look at Paris.  It was nothing like she'd imagined it.  It was better.  Any concern she had about Angus, the world she'd traveled through to get here, or how she would return home, were all gone in an instant.  She was overcome with Paris in all its exotic glory.  Her mind spun with everything she wanted to do.  Her stomach's growl reminded her that the first thing she needed to do was find some place to get some food.  And then maybe some shopping.

The trip back down the elevator, Fiona noticed that there were several reflective surfaces inside the transport.  On the ground, the fact was forgotten as the smell of food comes to the forefront.  People moved about the base, vendors, street performers, artists, tourists, and many others.  The main place to get something however seemed to be a place simply called Buffet.  The prices were in Euros however.  Pizza Sandwich or Hotdog and a soft drink was the main faire.  Fiona was just one in a throng there though the color of her dress stood out amongst the patterns and colors that most others were wearing.

Fiona stopped short, looking around, cursing herself for not realizing that her currency was going to be useless here.  Then again, for all her practicality, she sometimes missed the obvious hitches in her plans.  She fingered the strap of her purse, trying to determine where she could get her money changed over to Euros.  Or...she delved into her purse and checked to see if her credit card was still securely in its pocket in her billfold.  Didn't the commercials claim it was accepted all over the world?  Shouldn't that include Paris?  She didn't have the money to charge the card up too much, she already had two that were pretty much maxed out...but there would be no paper trail to make her credit card company believe that she'd actually been here...and identity theft was such a problem these days.  Her lips curled into a little smile.  Oh yes, plastic was certainly a girl's best friend.

Fiona found that the card worked just as easily in Paris as it did at the Hot Topic at the Meadowbrook Mall.  The food was delicious and the people were friendly enough, especially if Fiona was spending money.  While Fiona enjoyed her meal of choice she was able to watch the people a little more.  Of all the people milling about and trying to eke out a simple tip or two, one woman caught Fiona's eye.  A beautiful dark-skinned woman with curly wavy hair and sleepy eyes sits next to a few easel's and a smoking incensed brazier.  A series of wooden sticks charcoaled at one end rested in the fire itself.  The woman was looking right at Fiona and smiling as she reached into the fire and pulled out a stick and put a few hasty marks on one of the pads of paper mounted to the closest easel to her.

Fiona fished a napkin out of her purse, one of many she had conveniently forgotten to take out of her apron at the end of her shift at Morgan's.  She had to look away for a moment to find  a trashcan, but when she looked up she still found that woman looking at her.  It was disconcerting.  Slowly, Fiona weaved her way through the stream of tourists and stopped a few feet in front of the artist, craning her neck to look at the easel's containing things she'd finished.  "Hello, those are lovely."  She gestured, indicating the pictures. 

Of the few visible canvases which inevitably have price tags the artwork in charcoal bears a familiarity to an artist you can't place immediately. "Thank you," she says and looks at Fiona with dark eyes.  "Would you like to buy one of my sketches, or perhaps you'd like me to sketch you and the scene around you?  More meaning than a photograph."  She moves a fresh white canvas to her lap and leans forward smiling.

"Oh, I'm sure it would, and I would love to have one...but this trip was kind of a spur of the moment kind of thing.  I didn't have a chance to change my dollars into euros, so all I have is plastic.  Unless you have a set up for credit cards, I don't think I'll be able to pay you for it.  I doubt I'd be able to afford it anyway, your pieces are all so beautiful.  But thank you very much, for the offer, I mean."

"You are kind," she says.  "How about you send me something when you return home.  Cash is okay, but plenty of people buy my sketches.  Maybe you can send me something I can't readily get here.  A book perhaps, I can get your email address and I can send you my physical address and It'll be a done deal, a promise for a sketch.  Can you keep a promise?"  Her smile is beautiful and intoxicating like there is some kind of secret in her eyes and the promise of passion.  She is sketching while she talks.  Quick strokes with charcoal and some brown coloring stick of some material or another and white.

Fiona can make out the names on the pieces that set around her in a light quick signature, "Gauguin".

Fiona squinted a little at the signature, mouthing it to herself with her brow furrowed.  She'd heard that name before somewhere.  Art class maybe?  "Gauguin...are you related to Paul Gauguin?"  Surely not.  It was probably just a coincidence.  She was already a little ill at ease about the woman's request for payment.  What kind of business person trusted someone to mail them a book in return for an original work of art?  It seemed a little...crazy.  But if the woman was related to a well known artist, than this whole thing was seriously strange.

"The famous Paul Gauguin was my Great Grandfather.  I look a little like him, Oui?"  She tapped a nearby book with Gauguin's face on it.  She was very obviously related, the strong characteristics of Gauguin's features were prominent on this woman in a beautiful way.  "An amazing man, my ancestor, but my grandfather Emile was equally as talented in my opinion.  His greatest secret was his son, my father.  Historian's can never seen to locate him, but I am not afraid of my name."  She sketches out some more lines and puts the sticks down.

"You will like this a great deal I think," she said as she turned it around.  The light browns and whites seemed to form a glowing yellow that was evidently her dress.  Fiona herself was done with thick strong lines that was characteristic of her but bordered also somewhere between abstract and primitivism.  Anyone with a quick glance who knew her would immediately know who it was.  The odd thing about the scene which was exactly her with the Eiffel Tower in the background was the sheer dirth of people who seemed to be surrounding her on all sides.  Fiona had not seen anyone around her while she talked with and watched Miss Gauguin.

Fiona smiled, taking in every detail of this street artist's masterpiece with an appreciative, but somewhat confused eye.  "This is really amazing, Miss Gauguin.  Really.  You're so talented, you do your ancestors such a great service carrying on your family's history with such skill.  I'll be more than happy to send you your monetary payment and a book besides."  She paused, biting into her lower lip.  How did she do this without sounding rude?  "I especially like how you made me stand out in the crowd, like that.  It's very inspired, brings the whole piece to a different level.  Makes it so visually interesting.  However did you think to do that?  It really was ingenious."

"I can only sketch what I see," she says with a smile.  She folds a piece of translucent paper over the work and bundles it in some twine and slips a note up under the twine with contact information so that Fiona can hold up her end of the bargain.  Then she starts to pack up.  "Well, only one masterpiece a day.  I'd best go to my apartments.  Enjoy Paris, it is a city of lights and loves," she finishes packing with the brazier, grabbing it from the bottom and the top and clamping it shut and fastening latches to prevent the smoking ashes from falling out.

Fiona frowned, watching the other woman packing up her wares.  "Wait, Ms. Gauguin...just one thing.  I don't want to sound rude.  I was probably so mesmerized by watching you work that I didn't even notice but...was there a crowd?   Around me.  When you were doing this for me?  Don't get me wrong.  I wouldn't have you change a thing about it.  It's perfect.  Beautiful.  But...I didn't notice a crowd of people.  It seemed...kind of devoid or tourists, really."

"Not tourists, ghosts," she laughs.  "They are always around.  Paris has a great many of them and some of them are very angry.  Don't worry though, they can't hurt people," she laughs.  The eccentricity of artists rises to a new level in Fiona's mind.  "I suppose they are tourists of a kind, but they usually ignore us.  Not a single one is paying attention to you right now.  That guy over there has a couple of angry ex-wives though.  You can see that nothing is happening to him though.  Just another male who thinks that young is good even though he can't get it up like he used to."  She points and Fiona is able to glance over and see a balding middle aged man, cleanly dressed and clearly well-to-do with a much younger supermodel type girl on his arm.  Someone is taking their picture and selling them the digital print.

Fiona followed the woman's gaze with a mix of awe and skepticism.  While she would be the first to admit that maybe the world wasn't as clearly defined as she'd once imaged, given current circumstances, she still found it difficult to believe that this woman saw ghosts.  Then again...  "Have you always been able to see them?"  Fiona asked softly, a little uncertainly.  "I mean...is it a recent development?  I only ask because...things have been weird for me lately.  I wasn't sure if it was just me..."

"You see ghosts as well?  No.  I can tell you don't."  She said looking carefully at Fiona.  "It's not been long, not long at all.  But I'm not complaining.  Being a pariah is something I'm used to.  It is only to my benefit that I am different by other means.  What is it then that you are capable of?  Ce qui est bizarre?  Let's walk and talk."

Fiona fell into step beside the other woman, battling thoughts that seemed to be at odds with one another.  While a part of her balked at the idea of sharing the oddities of the last twenty-four hours with another human being, there was another part of her that wanted to take advantage of a sympathetic ear while she had one.  The chances of her finding someone else who wouldn't turn her over to the nearest psychiatric hospital at first mention of minotaurs, shadow dimensions, and Wonderland were probably closer to nil.  "Well, it all started when I went into a storage room where I work, stepped into a shadow...and ended up in a nightmare."  Haltingly, she recounted a shortened version of the events of the previous night and morning, her trip into and escape from the nightmare world, and then her journey through a looking glass into a fictional story she'd never really cared for all that much, and her eventual arrival in Paris.  "Honestly, I was sure I was completely crazy...but I don't know if anyone is crazy enough to believe they traveled halfway around the world through a mirror...and have things be so vivid."  She held up the artwork in her hands.  "And this is real enough, isn't it?  So...this is happening..."

Miss Gauguin stopped and listened intently to Fiona.  Her eyes seem to narrow at points in the story, thinking, planning.  She is about to say something but there is a sudden commotion from back the direction they came from.  At a hot dog stand, the man who she accused of having angry ex-wives was choking.  The young beauty next to him was suddenly yelling loudly and ineffectually for help.  Other people were going over and one person attempted the Heimlich to no effect.  "We'd better keep moving," she said and seemed to move at a double step pace directly away from the commotion.

Without looking to see if Fiona was keeping up she said, "So can you go anyplace at will, Can you take other people with you?"

"I don't know,"  Fiona answered uncomfortably.  "This is actually the first time I've actually used it to go anywhere.  Last time...I just went back to work.  I don't know if I could take another person with me or not...and I'm not sure if I can go anywhere and everywhere.  There might be limitations I don't know about.  There are always catches, aren't there?  Something always takes the joy out of things."  She struggled to keep up with the other woman.  "I'm still kind of concerned that I might not be able to get home when I'm finished here.  I don't know if I can use just any mirror or shadow or whatever...this is all very new to me."

"Then isn't it about time you found out some of your limitations?  Mirrors and shadows.  We can find those pretty regularly.  We can go to my place.  I have several mirrors there.  And you can take us both to another place.  Let's say California, I've always wanted to visit.  Perhaps I'll find some nice spirits there with problems to solve.  I am Minerva, by the way."

Minerva leads you through winding Parisian streets and into a small rundown tenement that looks like the place should be abandoned.  Inside the open studio are many paintings and mirrors covered over with brown throw cloths.

Alarm bells were going off in Fiona's head like in a school during a fire drill.  She chewed on her lower lip as she followed the other woman into her home.  At first it had seemed like such a good idea, but now she wasn't so sure.  What kind of person listened to someone say they could walk through mirrors...and respond with inviting themselves along for the next acid trip like adventure into Wonderland?  Not a sane person.  Then again, Fiona wasn't in any position to judge anyone's sanity.  "You're sure you want to do this?  There are people in the mirror...very strange people who threaten to 'minister' to you...whatever the hell that means.  I don't want to be responsible if something bad happens to you."  Or more importantly me, she thought wryly.

"I'll stick close.  I've seen a couple of horror movies.  Enough to know you never wander off alone."

The mirrors seemed benign enough.  They were all around and none in particular seemed to call out to her.  The closest one however had a flicker of movement.  The ghostly vapors that had flowed about her arms before returned slowly.  They vapors seemed to hug the mirror and want to pull her into it.  In the shadows of the mirror but not of the room, the strong dark form of Angus seemed to be sitting on the floor reading a book.  It was difficult to make out.  Minerva moved her hands into the vapors around Fiona's arms and the gaseous material swirled in the wake of the intrusion quickly returning to their writhing pattern.  "Fantastique," she whispered.

Fiona did not look as impressed with them.  "I'd love to know what this is..."  She muttered, casting a wary glance at the strange, almost sentient seeming fog.  Then, she nodded her head towards the mirror it seemed so anxious for her to use.  "There, if you stare into the mirror, can you see it?  My minotaur on the other side...reading.  I imagine he's waiting for me.  From the sound of what he told me about himself...his purpose as my guide is pretty much all he is...which seems a little sad to me.  Can you see him?"  She asked, reaching out to touch the viscosity of the mirror with a finger.  "Does it look like a normal mirror to you or can you tell that it's different?"

"I do see something," Minerva is close and looking wide eyed into the mirror.  It is much like one of those horror movies in which the surface of the mirror disappears under the touch of Fiona in ripples like water.  Minerva grabs her purse as Fiona steps into the surface of the mirror into the otherworldly version of Minerva's studio.  Minerva follows her through and Angus puts the book aside and stands up.  His large bull head sways back and forth as he looks between Fiona and Minerva.  "Where would you like to go?" he asked of Fiona.  The mists that had surrounded her arms were no more.

"Redding, California," Minerva says seemingly out of the blue.  "The Cascade Theater is there, beautiful Art Deco.  Unless you had some other place in mind?" she says with a smile.

Fiona chewed on her lower lip, her gaze fixing on Angus like she expected him to tell her if this was a good or bad idea.  Was she crazy?  Trusting some woman she just met with her secrets and just letting her lead the way across the world to some unknown city and some unknown theater.  What if it was a trick?  But what kind of trick could it possibly be?  Who would just be sitting in the Cascade Theater waiting for this strange French woman to wander in with a crazy girl who can Alice in Wonderland herself across the world.  The odds of that were astronomical.  Just like the odds of being able to Alice in Wonderland yourself across the world.  She took a deep breath and nodded at her guide.  "You heard the woman."  She wants to see Redding, California, so I guess that's where we're going."  She paused, her head cocking a little to the side.  "Angus, how did you know to wait for me here?"

"I am where ever you are, Fiona," Angus says matter of factly.

"Fascinating," Minerva says and carefully follows along.

Angus leads Minerva and Fiona from the studio apartment pretty much back the way they came from the other side of the mirror, but in the mirror world the outside of the apartments was like a giant tree with fireflies over the doorways.  Minerva gasped in short French phrases as the detail of the surrounding world invaded her senses.  Angus journeyed along the street which was a dirt path and between other gigantic apartment trees.  Poking heads out of the trees on occasion were owls and owlets watching the trio march through their city.

At a subway entrance that looked like a dense shrub, Angus led the women down into a subway terminal that was made of brick-like digital clocks.  They all blinked in rhythm and the turnstile moved of its own accord as the minute clicked up into the next slot.  "This train is the one we must take," Angus said as a subway train roared into the digital clock terminal and hissed to a stop.  On the train were a whole population of mice-people dressed in suits and ties, dressed and heels, jeans and t-shirts.  They scurried from the subway and down the long tunnels that seem to be hidden in the recessed darkness of the terminal.  Some mice remained on the train as Angus edged his way onto the vehicle.

Fiona followed behind with only a cursory glance at the other occupents of the subway.  Somehow, after what she'd seen her first time through the looking glass, nothing was going to surprise her.  At least, she hoped nothing was going to surprise her.  Minerva seemed to be impressed by it.  That did not interest Fiona nearly as much as the simple fact that she had proof.  Someone else had made the jump with her, someone else had seen Angus, the mirror-world, someone else was going to travel through it to a place across the world...which meant she could not be crazy.  Unless Minerva was a figment of her imagination, too.  That seemed unlikely.  She had a picture of herself that Fiona would have never possessed the skill to draw.  So, Minerva was a real, she was really here, and Fiona's sanity no longer had to be called into question.  If only she could be certain for her safety.  She still didn't like the implications of taking someone with her.  She didn't want to be responsible for this woman's well being.  She didn't like to be responsible for her own well being.  What was going to happen if that weird 'minister' came back and took Minerva, or them both, away?  No one would know to look for them.  No one would be able to get her to look for them...so they'd basically be fucked.  Not to mention that there was still a little part of her that worried about Minerva's trust worthiness.  She did not need to get studied by some government whack job just because she'd discovered some parallel universe where mice road the metro and ants had picnics at the foot of the eiffel tower.  Nope.  She wanted to avoid that if she could.  Yes, Fiona could have cared less about her surroundings, she was deeply entrenched in her own thoughts of doom and gloom while still keeping a watchful eye on her guide and her guest.

Minerva attempted twice to engage Angus in conversation but Angus just stared at here like she was speaking a foreign language and she gave up, interested in watching the surroundings.  Fiona's mind wondered and wound up thinking about the kitten from the diner.  Minerva interrupted her thoughts at that moment, "We're slowing, are we there already?"

"The exit into your world is not far from here," Angus spoke in an almost cheery manner.

Outside the train, a tiny vista of mountains and villages, like an elaborate Christmas train set up surrounded them.  The path to take was clear.  Take few giant steps over the villages and then around the mountains that seem to rise a full 7 feet in the air.  Around the mountains was a storefront window in which you could look out onto the street and see people walking past to look at the backside of the miniature landscape.  A puff of smoke from an unseen source in the shape of a box rose up from one of the tiny village homes and  dissipated into the air in front of Angus.

"It's like a shop, but we must find the mirror to be on the other side," Minerva said looking around.

"Yeah, it's never easy,"  Fiona muttered, squinting out the window  at the people as they passed.  No one seemed to notice them.  Not one.  It wasn't surprising, but Fiona had hoped that she might not be the only one wandering through mirrors and falling through shadows.  She pulled herself away from the window, trying to push the thoughts of that poor little kitten from her mind.  Why was she worrying about it right now, anyway?  Wasn't her life complicated enough without mourning the life of some stray?

"It may not be a mirror in the conventional sense."  Fiona called to Minerva over her shoulder as she circled the mirror-world window display.  "I actually rode an elevator and wound up in Paris.  It was mirrored, but I I didn't actually walk through the mirrors...just rode the elevator down from the Eiffel Tower."  She wasn't really in a big hurry to visit Redding, California anyway.  What could the place possibly offer her?  She wasn't even sure she could tell someone what part of California Redding was located in.  It certainly couldn't be one of the touristy areas.  Minerva could have picked LA at least...she grumbled silently to herself, only half watching for the mirror.

Turning away from the front glass, Minerva and Fiona both are confronted by a pair of figures.  One obviously a mother of two small children who were walking about sullenly obeying the don't touch rule, the other an employee of the store who stood with her mouth agape as she looked at the intruding pair up on the display.  "Where on Earth did you come from?  Get down from there right now.  Careful!"  The children were giggling.

"Je suis désolé, tres désolé," Minerva said carefully stepping around a small village and hopping off the table. 

Fiona blinked once, twice, and then made a show of bending down.  "There!"  She declared with faux triumph.  "I told you that when I sneezed my contact lens flew into this display."  She gave Minerva a self-satisfied grin.  "Right here.  It's right here."  She held up her thumb and forefinger for only a moment before she carefully dismounted the display and pretended to dig through her purse for a contact lens case that did not exist.  "Sorry.  So sorry about that."  She muttered idly as she pretended to put the lens into a case, all while shielding her hands from the clerk to prevent her from seeing the lack of lens and case.  "We're on vacation..."  Her brown eyes lighted on the flier taped to a glass display case beneath the cash register and nodded towards it.  "For the seminar.  Your display was so cute I had to come see it...and that's when I sneezed and almost lost my only pair of contact lenses for the whole trip.  Do you have any idea how much it would have sucked to be half blind through the entire seminar?"  She reached for Minerva's arm and started gently pulling her towards the shop door.  "I better get back to the hotel and wash this off real well before I put it back in my eye.  Come on, we'll come back and see the display again sometime when I can see out of both eyes..."

The saleswoman blinked with her mouth wide open, truly unable to find anything to say, as the pair made their retreat from the store.

-> To "The Redding Seminar"