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Any World You Choose
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2
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In the shower he let the water get as hot as he could stand, as
if he hoped the heat would cleanse him of the damp night in his
past. He stood under the shower and let the water pound against the
back of his neck, watching the blood from his torn lip mingle with the
water as it spun down the drain.
He closed his eyes and saw Peter standing at the window of the
cabin, pointing out into the darkness of the forest and
laughing. Pure joy was splashed across his face as he told Richard
about the music he had heard in his sleep. It was not music that had
stirred Richard from his slumber, instead it was a chill whisper on the
wind. A mournful wale that had raised goosebumps and drawn him from a
deep dream of twisting shapes and strange cities.
He saw in his mind's eye Peter raising the window and climbing
out into the night. Peter called and cajoled him to follow him
into the woods, to seek out the strange music that Richard could not
hear. Richard's own voice had been stolen away by fear and so he
uttered not a sound as his friend slid through the window and darted to
the forest. All the while Peter skipped and spun as he ran, as if
keeping time with the alien music he heard.
Richard knew he should call for his father. Richard knew he
should go to his parents room next door and shake them awake.
Richard knew all this and yet he sat shaking in his bed, sheets pulled
up tight around him.
Shadows flickered across the wall. Thin, and bent forms that
flowed across the wood panels. It seemed as though they danced,
and their dance held Richard captive as he watched the spiralling
motions of the shadows.
Richard's eyes snapped open as he shivered under the suddenly
chill water running down his back. He stepped from the shower
and pulled a towel from the rack, wondering how long he had been
standing there lost in the past.
Through the cloudy dew on the bathroom mirror he saw his
reflection. He looked a haunted man. Dark circles outlined his
sunken and red eyes. Almost three days of stuble covered his once
clean-shaven, angular face. His eyes blurred and for a moment he almost
saw the face of Richard of eleven years ago, poor Richard standing
alone in the forest with his once bright eyes and sandy-brown tosseled
hair.
He thought about shaving and then remebered the lack of hot
water. He also realized he didn't have the energy and stumbled
into the bedroom to pull on a pair of boxers and jeans.His eyes drifted
across the bed to rest on the right side. Susan's side.
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