The Synesthesisist Lady

 

The Synesthesisist Lady 

“Juliet wasn’t expecting what she found.”

    What a beautiful day it was in the small town of Greenstone. Almost everybody found an excuse to go outside and enjoy the weather. Well, even without an excuse—it was the 7th of March. The last week’s weather had been dreadful, and now the warm sun and crisp air seemed to align perfectly to let people forget their worries for a while. But one lady was not in this mood. Juliet.

Juliet was diagnosed with synesthesia, a peculiar condition of the senses that made her occasionally taste colors, see sounds, smell images, and other strange sensory crossings. Clear days like that sunny Saturday tended to heighten her experiences. As she gazed at the bright blue sky through her window, a bitter taste spread across her tongue when her eyes fell on the crumpled, empty envelope resting on her bedroom desk. Where was the letter? she wondered.

The letter had been from Nancy, a peculiar friend who clung to old-fashioned habits like sending letters instead of text messages. Juliet had burned the letter earlier that morning—its words had reeked of something foul and sticky in her senses. The letter asked her to visit Nancy to see the new jumper she'd bought yesterday. But Juliet knew better. The jumper was an excuse. Something else was going on.

With a sigh, Juliet grabbed her coat. If Nancy needed her, she would go.

As she walked through the sunlit streets, Juliet couldn’t shake the aftertaste of the letter’s words. There was something off about them—a sharp, metallic edge that clung to her mind. It was not sadness or heartbreak. It was something stranger.

When Juliet arrived at Nancy’s old brick house, the front door was ajar.

"Nancy?" Juliet called out, stepping inside.

A faint sound buzzed in her ears—a sound she didn’t hear but saw as a shimmer of crimson, like the hum of electricity. The scent of lavender soap filled the air, but beneath it was something else. Something cold.

She found Nancy sitting on the living room floor, clutching an old notebook. Her hands trembled as she turned the pages.

"You came," Nancy said quietly, her voice brittle. "I didn’t know who else to call."

Juliet knelt beside her. "What’s wrong? This isn’t about a jumper, is it?"

Nancy shook her head, her breath quickening. "I found this—this diary. It’s not mine. It was hidden under the floorboards." She handed it to Juliet. "And... there are things written in here that no one should know."

Juliet opened the worn leather cover. The words on the page instantly flooded her senses—a rush of copper on her tongue, the scent of burning wood, a flash of violet in her vision. The handwriting shifted and blurred as if it didn’t want to be read. And the content—impossible things.

"These dates," Juliet whispered. "They're in the future."

"I know," Nancy said, her voice barely audible. "And one of them is today."

Juliet's pulse quickened as she scanned the latest entry:

"March 7th: She will come. She will see. And the door will open."

As the last word slid across her vision, Juliet heard a low, vibrating hum coming from the kitchen. Her synesthesia flared wildly. The hum tasted like rust and shadows.

Nancy clutched her arm. "Do you hear it? I mean—see it?"

Juliet nodded, rising to her feet and following the sound. The kitchen seemed normal at first glance, but the hum grew louder as she neared the pantry door.

Without thinking, Juliet reached out and turned the handle.

The door swung open to reveal not shelves of food, but an impossible corridor stretching into darkness. Cold air brushed her face, carrying a smell she had never encountered before—a smell that was not meant for this world.

"What is this?" Nancy whispered, eyes wide with fear.

Juliet didn’t know. But every nerve in her body told her one thing: The diary hadn’t been a warning.

It had been an invitation.

A wave of temptation washed over Juliet—an urge to step inside, to know the unknowable. But deep within her, a sharper instinct cut through the allure. She didn’t want her life to be consumed by something she couldn’t control. She had fought too hard to shape her own path.

Juliet slammed the pantry door shut, the hum fading instantly. She turned back to Nancy, pressing the diary into her hands.

"We’re not meant to follow this," she said firmly. "Some things are better left unknown."

Without waiting for a reply, Juliet left the house, the sun warming her skin as she hurried home. She climbed to her attic and tucked the diary into an old chest, locking it tight.

She didn’t destroy it—some knowledge should be kept safe. But she knew one thing for sure: she would not let it shape her future.

And whatever lay beyond that door would have to wait—perhaps forever. For better or worse, she had become the diary’s guardian. It was her duty now to protect it, to keep it hidden from prying eyes and dangerous hands. The weight of that responsibility settled quietly on her shoulders, a silent promise that no matter how much curiosity clawed at her mind, she would never open that door again.

Toni Font Bardolet, Aberdeen 18/03/2025