The silence is almost unbearable as Remi awakens. He is sitting in the middle of a deserted field; surrounded only by the complete absence of sound that feels like thick cotton in his ears. He also realizes that the air is completely still as he stares at his forearm and sees the hairs there standing at rigid attention; unmoved by even the slightest wisp of air.

Looking around, he sees stunted grasses growing up through black soil that looks as though it might have been burned recently; perhaps some farmer’s attempts to “reboot” a field for new crops. Other than the stubby grass, the dark soil, and the hills rolling away in the distance, there is nothing. Not a tree, not a shadow, not a rock.

And yet, Remi is sure he has been to this place before. Except, when he had been here, there had been something standing in the barren field where he now sits. He can almost hear it, around the edges of his ears. He can almost see it, just past the corners of his eyes.

His mind seeks desperately for some memory to grasp a hold of; something that will help him to attach his sense of deja-vu to a tangible event from his past. He sees shelf after shelf of dusty and mismatched books in his imagination. Hallways and covered walkways sprawling across gardened grounds as if they had grown there amongst the vegetation. Spilled wine and boiling water. And along with these scattered images, he recalls the feeling of complete serenity, but cannot force these fragments into anything cohesive.

He tries to remember where he was prior to waking up here. He recalls something about a late-night flight, a desperate hunt for someone, and a terrible accident. Was any of this real, or were these fragments of a dream he had been having before he awoke?

And who was to say that he was actually awake now? Maybe if he reached over and pinched himself like they did in the cartoons, he would wake up to find himself nestled in his own bed back in Seattle.

Seattle; that was a start. He lived in Seattle. He was a writer for The Seattle Times. And he had headed here for…what? A story? And where was here, anyway?

Looking down, Remi sees that he is wearing a light denim jacket over a blue oxford shirt, khaki slacks, and Converse tennis shoes. Obviously he was in travel mode. He checks his coat pockets for evidence and discovers a rumpled plane ticket stub which reads “Portland.” So, he is in Portland. Or has been recently, at least.

Looking around, he realizes what else is missing from the scene; a mode of transportation. If he had come out here investigating a story, shouldn’t there be a rental car close by? He begins to search for signs that maybe he had hiked here from some other points, but sees no footprints around him in any direction; odd considering the spongy feel of the ground he now stands on.

“Why can’t I remember?” Remi asks aloud in his desperation.

“Remember what?” comes the immediate reply from a deep voice that seems to originate directly beside his left ear.

Remi whirls to discover a young boy; perhaps four or five years old, standing next to him. The boy has sandy blonde hair, startling light blue eyes, and a face that makes one think of cherubs and angels for all of the innocence, joy, and curiosity painted upon the soft round features. He is wearing a plain white shirt, gray shorts, black tennis shoes, and nothing in particular that would distinguish him from any other four or five year old boy; aside from the fact that he suddenly appeared next to Remi accompanied by a disembodied adult man’s voice.

“Did you say something?” Remi asks the child. “And where did you come from?”

“I asked you what you were trying to remember,” the boy replied in that deep adult male voice; a voice that was much, much too old for his body, “And I do not wish to answer your second question just yet.”

“Where am I? How did I get here? And why do I feel like I’ve been here before?” Remi blurts before he’s had a chance to consider just how odd the last part of the boy’s reply is. Hearing an adult male’s voice coming out of a small boy’s mouth; a small boy that Remi is positive wasn’t there seconds before he spoke, disconcerts him more than he’d like to admit to anyone, and he is anxious to get some answers.

The boy looks up at Remi with a twinkle of amusement in his glassy blue eyes. “You are here, and I brought you here.” As he speaks, the boy sits down on a chair that Remi knows wasn’t there before. “As for the third question, maybe it’s because you have been here before, and maybe it’s because you will be here again someday.”

Remi groans slightly as he realizes how little control he has in the situation. “You aren’t going to make this easy on me, are you?”

The boy’s twinkle gets even brighter. “Why would I?”

“Just tell me the name of this place,” Remi pleads; the fear thick in his tone.

“Very well. You have just arrived at the Land’s End Hotel and Resort.”

Remi looks around again, to make sure that no hotel has popped up since they have been talking. He sees none; just the grass, the dirt, and the hills in the distance. “Hotel and Resort? But, there’s nothing here!”

The cherub’s smile widens into what was very nearly an evil grin; obviously amused by the joke that Remi doesn’t yet know the punch line to. “Not yet.”

• A Terrible Accident at the Land’s End Hotel and Resort
• The Strange Disappearance of Remington Davis