Between the Realms

Chapter 1

Dylan Anderson 2023

My heartbeat quickens as I descend the stairs to my music studio. I know I probably should update this old place, but it makes me feel peaceful every time I come here. It’s like I can almost see the guys in here with me rehearsing for an upcoming gig.

I sit in my ripped leather office chair and roll back to the shelf where I store my old eight-track tapes, ready to relive some memories, but the dust and dampness in the air permeate my nostrils, bringing on a sneezing fit. I guess that’s all part of having a studio in your basement.

I shake my head and glance over at the old Fender Vintera and Polymoog synthesizer patiently waiting. It’s been some forty-six years since I was the lead guitarist for Ablaze. Even though we were a local band from the Youngstown area, most living in Ohio had heard of us. We had planned on going big time, but it never happened, we remained a respected and popular local band.

I open the top drawer of my desk and pull out a box containing CDs of the band's most popular songs. I’m glad I had those old eight-tracks converted. I make a mental note to send one to Jennifer Kovich. She’s one of the main reasons I’ve been learning how to time travel. We were young and in love back in the 70s. I’ve spent the last two years reminiscing about the times we shared before she broke my heart. But things were about to change.  I hope she has a CD player. If not, I’ll have to go to plan B, which is more of an upfront and personal approach that could be dangerous for both of us. Either way, I’m feeling positive about the spell that will propel her back to 1976. And I’ll be back there as well, waiting.

It’s been a long time since I’ve felt so alive.

I think about what Troy Duncan, Grand Master had taught me these past few years at the Orion’s Path meetings I was attending. I met Troy at a party one night back in the early seventies, and he said he was starting some New Age club. I even told Jennifer about it, but I believe she never had much interest. I guess she wasn’t into astrology at the time, but that was only a cover for whatwent on in that group.

When I first heard about it, I thought I was attending some sort of astrology club, but I was wrong. I learned so much there. If not for Gregg, our former drummer, I’d have no idea that time travel could be achieved simply by playing certain notes on a musical instrument to generate a high vibrational frequency. All along, I thought something like that could only be attained by playing a heavy metal song backward on the old vinyl while listening for the embedded codes. I presume he did some deep diving after retiring from teaching science at the local high school, here in Canfield, Ohio. It was here, in this modest log-style cabin out in the Ohio countryside, that I became a devout member and learned what I’d do with my newfound knowledge of time travel.

I’ve been planning this for two years now. My dreams are about to come true as long as I follow the instructions to the letter. Hell, no one will even miss me. It’s been five years since my divorce, and I have no children, which leaves me with no reason to reconsider my decision. Mom and Dad both passed away years ago, and I’ve never had much contact with my sister, who now lives in Pittsburg. Plus, it’s a different world now, one I feel as if I don’t belong in. Who could’ve predicted forty years ago that everything could change so much?

If all goes according to plan, I’ll be transported back to 1976 with the band and my buddies playing at local clubs, including the famous Regal Room Club in Struthers, Ohio. I’ll be twenty-three again and able to relive the best years of my life, including the time when I met Jennifer. I’ve been thinking of her even more so since the divorce. She and I weren’t just a passing thing. I hoped we’d end up together, but fate chose a different path for the both of us. Now, I have the tools to change our destiny, and I’m more than ready to make the journey back.

The instructions I learned to open the time portal will have consequences for Jennifer and me. Once I return to the seventies, I’ll have no means of getting back, although I highly doubt, I’d want to return. I mean, I’ve spent two years learning and plotting how to create this time travel spell, and my mind is set. Besides, I’ve always felt as if I don’t belong in this modern world.

According to Troy, the Grand Master, I will be transported back to the exact time, to the very night I met Jennifer in a club where the band was due to perform.

As for Jennifer, who knows if she’ll be able to journey back. Will she even want to? I hope that once we are reunited, she’ll see it was all meant to be.

That’s the deal, the one I made with Troy...or should I say the one I made with the devil? Is it fair that she might not have the means to return to her current life?  I don’t care. I guess it’s selfish of me, but I long to get those years back, and I’m more than happy to pay the price.

It's not that I’ve been stalking Jennifer for years on social media—I’m just keeping abreast of what’s been going on in her life.

Okay, I guess I have to admit I’m obsessed with her. I learned she’d separated from her husband and was now writing romance books for a living. She retired from teaching a few years back, and I have now retired from operating a local landscaping company. She is sixty-nine but still a looker, based on the pictures she posts on social media.

She moved to St. Petersburg, Florida, while I remained here in Canfield, Ohio. As I check her daughter Brandy’s photos, I see the resemblance. She has the same strawberry blonde hair and intoxicating green eyes as her mother.

My mind wanders back to the first night we met. I was on stage, playing with Ablaze, our band, at the Regal Room. It was fall, and everyone’s mood was lighter after having suffered through a humid summer. Being their lead guitarist, I was playing right up front, and I noticed an attractive, petite blonde dancing with another girl as we played Grand Funk Railroad’s hit, Heartbreaker. I watched her as she swayed back and forth in her hip-hugger jeans and revealing yellow halter top. She looked at me, and I winked at her. She smiled at me and moved closer to the edge of the stage. Our break was coming up next, and I thought, I’ll make damn sure I get to know that chick.

It was as though a hot poker shot through me when I looked into her eyes and asked if I could buy her a drink. There was chemistry there, for sure. We sat at the bar and chatted. I got lost in her emerald eyes as she spoke of her college classes and her hopes of becoming a teacher. She had just finished her last year of college and wanted to do some substitute teaching in the area. She was a local girl but seemed so different from the other girls I’d dated in the area. She had goals, while most of the others just wanted to snag a husband and have babies.

Our drummer and my best friend, Gregg motioned that it was time for the second show. I told Jennifer to leave me her number as I planned on asking her out—mind you, this was back in the Stone Age when we didn’t have cell phones. She wrote her number on a small cocktail napkin from the bar, and I tucked it away in my jeans pocket. That was the beginning of our short-lived love affair.

The more I thought about her, the more I knew I had to practice the routine to open the portal. To do so, I had to play the E4 chord on my old Fender Vintera thirteen times as I recited the chant Troy had taught me. I had to sing it in a high-pitched, E-5 falsetto, the highest note achievable for men, according to him. I decided to put it at the end of the recording I planned to put on the CD and I’d mail it to Jennifer.

I was told I needed to have three items with me belonging to that period and needed to be somewhere near Jennifer and I frequented back in the day. That was a no-brainer: the Regal Room, a once thriving dance club, but now simply an abandoned building. It was sad to see this club falling into such disrepair.

I scoped out the area a few nights ago, climbed over the rusty chain link fence, and found no sign of security cameras, so I knew it would be easy to pull this off.

I pull out an old vinyl record—one of the few local hits from way back—set it on the vintage player and sink back into my chair as I listen to "Dark Wicked Woman," one of our originals, and envision Jennifer in the club on the dance floor, illuminated by beams of colored lights.

It won’t be long now, my love, not long. Just a few more solo rehearsals and everything will be set into motion. We’ll be back where we belong, in the era meant for us. I think you’ll soon realize this as well.

Chapter 2

Jennifer 2023

I finish my power walk around the neighborhood as the sun is about to set. September is my favorite time of the year, when the Florida evenings are still warm, and a walk always lifts my spirits. I sit down and unplug my earbuds the minute I get in the door, and check my messages, hoping to hear from my best friend, Laney Morrison. We’d been so close after teaching together.

We are supposed to have lunch this Saturday. Lord knows I need to get out of the house and have some real human interaction. It’s been eight years since I retired as a fourth-grade teacher and started my career as an indie romance author—talk about a lonely hobby. Most of my friends these days are other authors I’ve met online.

My daughter, Brandy, and I are close. She usually calls every other day to check on me. The last time we saw each other was before she moved to South Carolina in July. I know she worries about me, especially since her dad, Mark, and I got a legal separation a year ago. These days, she’s busy with her work as a physical therapist, and she spends the evenings with her live-in boyfriend, Brian.

My stomach rumbles, demanding food, but I want a hot shower first. The water is warm as it sprays down on my skin. I close my eyes, and for some reason, I think about Mark, wondering what he’s up to these days. Hell, he’s just a half-hour’s drive away in Tampa, but it feels as though he’s moved to the other end of the world. It’s been months since I’ve even had a call from him, but I do know he phones Brandy every week. When I ask her how he’s doing, she’s always vague. Either she doesn’t want to tell me the truth or admit to the fact that he doesn’t share anything with her. That’s part of the reason behind our separation—the lack of communication. He was still working and had quite a few out-of-town business trips, and I was stuck at home, working on my third book. When he returned from his trips, I’d question him on how the trip was, but he always took it the wrong way and said I was interrogating him.

In the back of my mind, I always knew he was cheating on me. Call it intuition if you will.

I wrap my towel around myself and head to the kitchen to heat a Lean Cuisine meal. I don’t feel like cooking tonight. I lost my desire to cook when Mark left. Why bother cooking for one person?

I slip into my silk pajamas and eat my dinner. I pour a glass of wine while scanning Facebook. As I check out the Youngstown hometown page, I notice that someone has posted a video of Ablaze from back in 1976, when they first played at Midway Park. I was at that concert!

I play the video, watching intently as the band plays one of their hits, my eyes fixed on Dylan Anderson, the lead guitarist. A hot rush runs through me as I watch him, playing and singing, his long, brown, shag-style hair whipping from side to side. Where has the time gone? Seems like yesterday when I was quite the social butterfly enjoying outings with my friends and going to these concerts. Some even called me the ‘It Girl’. I sigh thinking how much time I spend alone now, sitting in this house. I have my writing but there’s still a void here. I miss my students and the interaction with them when I worked. I was called last year to see if I wanted to substitute or volunteer, but I declined. Knowing about this new era of teaching and younger teachers has me feeling a bit intimidated, I feel I wouldn’t fit in. I figure my time has passed and I’ve lost my Mojo lately.

My mind wanders back to when I met Dylan shortly after one of his performances. I’ve always been turned on by musicians for some reason, so it’s no surprise that Dylan and I started dating soon after we met. Those were good times.

I sigh and close my eyes, remembering how I’d follow the band to each venue and how Dylan and I would get together after the shows. I danced to the music with Tracey Blaznick, my good friend since high school. I was convinced that every song Dylan sang, he sang it for me. The louder the music, the more my body responded. It was as if I had center stage, and it wasn’t uncommon to have a few guys watching me.

I loved dancing. Dylan said I was good at it and should pursue it as a career, but I had just graduated from Youngstown State University with a teaching degree and was excited to start teaching. I’d like to think dancing was a hobby.

After the show, we usually had a few drinks and ended up back at the apartment he shared with Gregg, the band’s drummer. A few tokes on some decent pot later, and we’d have sex—good sex. I felt as if I was special, getting to be with a hot, local musician, but my mother wasn’t too fond of him, always warning me about the flashy lifestyle musicians led.

I’m compelled to play the video again, paying more attention to the crowd this time, hoping I’ll see myself there. I usually wore hip-hugger jeans, while my strawberry blonde hair falling way below my shoulders made it pretty easy to pick me out in a crowd. Those were the good times—we had no social media or cell phones to distract us, and we lived in real-time in the real world. How I wish things were still that simple.

After a second glass of wine, I start to feel drowsy, so I close the laptop and head for bed...alone.

I’ll message Laney tomorrow.

Chapter 3

Jennifer 2023

I woke up feeling the effects of the two glasses of wine I had last night. My mouth feels as if I’ve ingested a few cotton balls, and my head is throbbing. I need coffee.

I slip out of my pajamas and stand in front of my full-length mirror, looking at my naked