|
Any World You Choose
|
7
|
| |
| |
|
|
Then he saw the figure at the edge of the woods. Peter, capering about
with a jaunty Robin Hood hat perched upon his head. He laughed and
waved when Richard saw him. Peter, not an older Peter, but the Peter
that Richard remembered so well.
"Welcome to Sherwood M'lady! Ha! Come on Richard, you missed out last
time." Peter snapped off a mock salute and turned towards the forest,
arm upraised and beckoning Richard to join him as he had so long ago.
Again Peter ran into the forest, and again Richard followed. Darting
past the silent shadows that drifted and twisted through the yard. They
did not come near Richard as he ran for the forest, nor did they
attempt to follow, and for that Richard was grateful
Into the forest again, and a dark forest at that. Any daylight that had
remained in the sky was gone, replaced by that strange silvery glow
Richard remembered so well. The glow did not seem to come from
overhead, instead it was all around. As if the forest itself was
infused with the light.
He wasn't sure how long he ran until he came upon Peter. Time itself
had seemed to lose meaning, the silvery glow making the clearing he
entered seem dreamlike and unreal. Richard wondered for a moment if he
was not still home in bed, gripped in a hallucination or fever dream.
Perhaps he had finally gone over the end, succumbing to what Dr. Adams
had called delusional schizophrenia.
"You're not in bed Richard, and I suppose for the most part you're as
sane as any person." Peter grinned at him as he sat cross-legged on a
fallen log, a blade of grass clenched in his teeth and a raven's
feather in his cap.
"I do however, suppose that you could think of this as a dream, in that
everything is a dream. Row, row, row your boat and all that." Peter
laughed and sprung to his feet. Somewhere Richard could hear the
mournful cry being struck up again.
"Why are you afraid Richard? It's just their music, nothing can hurt
you here. What is here is only a reflection of what you bring." Peter
jumped from the log and walked a few steps closer.
"You're afraid of me. Why? " There was only open curiosity in Peter's
eyes, and Richard knew he had found his friend again. Yet, the wail was
beginning to build in the distance.
"I...I don't hear any music Peter, I just hear that scream, that weird
noise that sounds like...I don't know what it sounds like...there
aren't any words for it. Are you dead Peter? Am I dead? Why doesn't
anyone remember you?"
Richard had slowly backed away a bit from his friend, at the edges of
the clearing he could see the shadow shapes twisting and spinning.
Peter glanced over at them for a moment and shook his head.
|
| |
| |
| |
| |
|
8