A few hours later, Harper opened her eyes, feeling her raw throat easily by swallowing.

What had happened? An unsolved mystery, as of yet.

She tried to steady herself, but instead found that her legs didn’t want to obey – and since when was everything so cold?

“Holy pasta…that thing must have hit me harder than I thought,” she rasped, remembering the horrendous impact before she had passed out.

A stage hand walked past her, and Harper frowned – didn’t he see her? She reached out to touch him, and gasped in horror when her hand passed right through the man’s chest.

The stage hand frowned, and shuddered, as if he was cold. Then, he walked on, unperturbed.

Harper looked after him, jaw hanging a mile open.

“This is all a bad dream…” she murmured. “All just a bad dream. That’s it – I’ll wake up and mom will be there, ready to bash me with a frying pan.”

Still, she couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was horribly wrong.