Past Pluto, There is a Wormhole

He comes to me in the midst of my grief, saying there is a way. I could find her once more. Be where she is again. Between the sobs I felt my doubt. Can it truly be possible? I ask him how he can know.

He responds, "I have been there, of course. Fields as long and as wide as the eye can see. Wind rushing, and butterflies flitting about to be chased. One can run until the end of time there. Cool trickling water lapped by my tongue, sated every thirst I have ever had, or ever will have."

Then why did he come back?

As if he could read my thoughts he says, "to tell others, and show them the way."

"Is it far?" I ask.

He nods. "Yes."If it was her, that wouldn't matter. She wouldn't have even asked. "Just past Pluto, there is a wormhole. Through it there is the grove of doubt, and just beyond that you will find her."

Through my tear filled eyes, I say, "But how? I am not a scientist, nor am I an astronaut."

His eyes look weary, still they are filled with sadness. He breaths a sigh. "I know. I can't tell you how to get there, only where. It's up to you to figure out the rest."

It would have to do. I nod, set my brow, and go to work. I allow my mind to slip into a dream, one where I can do everything possible of me, where there are no bounds, and all I can do is believe. I don't need anything fancy. I just need to build a ship that can get me past Pluto.

I toil with my hands, bend the metal, forming calluses on the palm of my hands. The hands that can still feel the long locks between my finger tips. I focus, hammering in the rivets that will keep my ship together. I tell myself, it's just past Pluto. No further. That's as far as I need to go. Enough propulsion, enough oxygen, enough to set my course direct. This isn't something I am capable of, and of course there is doubt, but there is a stronger desire to see her one last time as I remembered her. Not as I saw her last, on that table.

The memory is one I don't want to bear any longer, and I work harder. Before I know it, within the blink of an eye, I have something. It's not much, but I think it will do. I immediately hop in, eager to make my way into space, and on to the path the old man had guided me to.

I sit at the controls, hands shaking, and I press the big red button. A countdown starts, though I don't remember even installing anything of that kind. It's the voice of the stranger. "Three... Two... One... We have blast off."

The force of the thrust pushes me backward into my chair. The pressure should be more than I can bear. It feels fine. No more than what is already in my chest.

The sky lowers to greet me, as if it is rushing to embrace me, but I pass through. Blue gives way to the sparkling black of space. My ship is fast. Faster than I could have ever dreamed. It should please me, but all I can do is set my eyes on Pluto. Or, at least, where it ought to be. Little lines on the screen detail a trajectory. A small arrow is my ship, and it is following along the path. Everything is right, and I am on course.

I sit back and wait, left with the quiet, all I can do is think, but thinking is the worst part. I try to divert my thoughts to something else, to the memories of our time together. To when we ran wild and free across green fields, the light touch of the rays of sun. She was always so much faster than me, and she loved to sprint. That smile. Carefree. It makes me smile. She loved that almost as much as she loved food.

Wisps of stars dance like the sparkling of a gem reflecting back light, casting colors against my dashboard and onto the windshield. It's mesmerizing. It pulls my attention from the thoughts and even the memories. It makes years feel like a moment, and I almost can drift to sleep. I haven't slept much of late. I've never been one to cuddle at night, but sometimes the pressure of her body, and her warmth against my legs, eased my anxiety. Sometimes, that helped me sleep. Many times it made me feel ok. When the world seemed crazy. It made me at least feel ok. My heart feels like a hand is grasping it. Squeezing it.

This has to work. I don't want anything else.

Lost to the stars I must have passed mars ages ago, as I see Saturn on the left side of my ship. That means I also passed Jupiter. It's huge. The rings are even more incredible from up close, and there are more colors to Saturn than any picture could have possibly depicted. It made it shimmer. My eyes are drawn almost instantly away as I focus on something beyond it. An odd amorphous shape that warps all around it. It's almost like a pin prick, but still it grabs me. The wormhole.

If I could will it, my ship would now go faster. I jolt in my seat as the ship does appear to speed up in tandem with my desire. The ship and I are whipped away from Saturn and the rest of the planets are barely conceivable blurs that stretch into infinity.

As quickly as it speeds up, the ship begins to ease. It's soft, almost gentle, completely counter to what one would expect. What should I expect? What can I do but witness. It's all so beyond me. I blink. My vision distorts, like when I take off my glasses and I can only see blurry outlines of things. It makes it hard to focus.

The wormhole. I am here. A shape flips and flops, bouncing from a liquid-like droplet of rolling water, to form into a momentary sphere. I can only guess that it is Pluto as viewed through the mass of the wormhole.

Go in. The computer that sounds like the stranger says. Trial, tribulation, doubt lay on the other side, but then the prize. It's in my head, I realize. The voice. My brain struggles to make sense of it, so it thought it was a sound, but there isn't any sound. It's just in my head, as a perfect understanding, mixed with a feeling.

I ease my ship in, taking more manual control.

My ship presses against the wormhole. It meets some type of resistance. I hear a new voice. A woman's voice. "This isn't a place meant for you man. Turn back."

I feel desperation surge in my chest, a protest rises like boiling water overflowing. Something else counters that feeling though. Something greater. Despair. To have come all this way. Could I possibly turn back now?

I'm vaguely aware of trees surrounding my ship and I. Even as we press against the surface tension of the wormhole, shapes start to form, and I feel as if I am in a quiet, dark, grove of trees.

"Turn back. You will spoil this place. Ruin it for those it was intended. You are a blight. Turn back." The words stab me. The stranger hadn't mentioned this, had he? I would have been lying if I hadn't wondered at my worthiness. She was perfect, unlike me, and if she went to a place, it would have to have been a perfect place as well. It made sense. If anything was right in the world, she would end up in a perfect place.

Should I turn back? I want to see her again. As she was. Not as I saw her that one time. I look behind me and all I see is ship. I notice that the seams are starting to break, rivets have popped out from the wear-and-tear of the ride. I wouldn't make a trip back. Not now. Oxygen was leaking, and I could feel the air beginning to cool. I was starting to get dizzy.

My arms fall over the armrests of the chair. I feel defeated. Indecision overtaking me. I'll sit here on the precipice of what I want, and what I should do.

I feel a ghost of a nudge at my hand. It's like she's there. Quiet, graceful. She was always so soft and kind, undemanding. But she knew how to make herself heard, and tell me what she needed. A soft nudge at my fingertips. It tells me, I'm here. I love you. Tears fill my eyes. She isn't here. That's why I was doing this in the first place. She's gone now. I miss her very much. It seems so silly, even though it really shouldn't. She meant so much to me. I feel that should be enough, but I feel shame in putting so much into that feeling. I feel like a fool.

Why had I done all of this? Built a ship, traveled through space, and challenged what ought to be, only so I could see her one more time. Be with her one more time. I can't help but feel insane. Others probably thought I was crazy as well. Why can't I move on, and just get over it? We had our time together. Shouldn't that be enough?

A nudge at my hand once more. It's so soft and yet it reverberates up my arm settling as a painful shock to my heart. It leaves an icy tendril that lingers on the tips of my nerves. It should reassure me but it just makes me feel the loss that much more. I feel alone, cold, running out of air. I can barely breathe. The walls of my ship feel as if they are closing in. I am all too aware that I have no one else as I sit in my singular seat.

The nudge persists. In the past, it happened time and again, and I took it for granted. I barely spared it a thought. And as I would often do then, whenever I was distracted or stressed, I absent-mindedly reached out to pet her. To rub her head and feel her fur between her fingertips. My hands meet resistance, and a warm pressure leans into the palms of my hand, attempting to get more out of the pets. I look down surprised. There she is. A perfect image. Her head lays in my hand as I scratch her large ears. A lump in my throat starts to form, and I can barely contain the overflowing of emotion. This can't be real can it?

"Are you really here?" She opens those small brown eyes, and looks at me. They tell me everything I need to know but they don't care for my question. They only care that I spoke to her. I continue to scratch her ears as I smile and cry at the same time. I heave sobs, and I drop to the ground to wrap my arms around her. I bury my face into her soft black fur. My Leia. My forever puppy. I squeeze her lightly, even though I know she hates hugs, but she lets me... as always. A temperature change dramatically shifts, and I feel air return to my lungs. I can breathe again. I'm no longer alone.

I feel wet seep into my pants. Just a dampness but it surprises me. I look down, and see that I am kneeling in grass. The soft wind flits about us as I embrace her. I whisper how much I loved her, and I begin to apologize. For some reason it's something I've been wanting to do ever since. To tell her I'm sorry. That I wish I had done more. That I hadn't let a single day go by without letting feel perfectly loved. So many regrets rising from my chest like slow burning lava, tearing through me.

The words flow but quickly they start to cool to a simmer, until they are cold unmoving stone. I can say no more. I see that they never mattered. They smell like sulphur, and I don't care for them anymore. Even more, I see that Leia doesn't care either. She never did. There's a shimmer around her, and I find that, as I hold on to her, it extends around me. The words sit outside this barrier, and I can't sense them in anyway anymore.

I feel tired. So tired.

I lean against her, and I feel her rustle under my weight. She didn't like me putting my weight on her. I struggle with the conflict of never wanting to let her go, and never wanting to make her feel uncomfortable. The latter prevails. I let go over her. Reluctantly, my hands drop from her. The barrier begins to retreat, and I find myself in my ship again. It's charting a course. I look around frantic, the ship looks brand new. The seams are all patched with silver. I see that my ship is bearing its way toward Earth again. A pang of sadness stabs me for a moment, but I barely feel it. It grows weak in the memory of her fur once more between my finger tips, the barrier surrounding me, and the dampness of the wet grass.