Part Seven - based on Picture 8
Word Count: 569
You may think I was foolish to drink with a stranger, especially as I had not been treated with too much care since I had arrived, but the thought of anyone drugging another’s food or drink was almost beyond my comprehension, and I could never have anticipated it, not ever. In my land, if anyone had done such a terrible thing – I had never heard it done, or a whisper of it – you would…Well, I hardly can imagine what would happen. In my land, In my world, a guest is a guest, whether he be invited or not.
Perhaps it is because my land is so transient, impermanent and this world is as old as the bones of the earth. I don’t know. The differences here go deep.
So yes, when I woke it was dark and the taste in my mouth, the throbbing of my temples confirmed that I had been drugged, and had slept an indeterminate amount of time. I retched as I rolled over and made the water closet only just in time. Afterwards, as the sweat and the poison oozed from my pores I remember dreaming as I had never dreamt before. It was as if I had had a dream of one of our mystics, a spirit-led fantasy which told more than just the worries of the day.
Dreams of blue light, the terrible sound of dying birds, white water and my beloved Almp, walking the boards, calling my name over and over. I had seemed to wake within the dream, my legs tangled in the reeds, and he had seen me, had pulled me with those huge barrelled arms, up, up onto the boards and had kissed me alive – just like I had done to him once way back when. His relief at finding was such exquisite joy on his face, and he spoke urgently with fire in his eyes. But when he spoke to me, I couldn’t understand a word he said.
I reached out to touch his head, that bald head that had driven me so mad, that he kept shaved just to spite me, and I swear that in my dreams I could feel his fingers tangled in my hair, and all I could understand was one word. My name. The rest was gibberish.
Hours may have passed as I lay on the floor recovering from the drug they gave me, but all things pass and I was well enough to make my way back to my room. Food had appeared but I had little appetite. I managed a little fruit, but drank nothing from the gourd. I slaked my terrible thirst at the fountain in the water closet.
My “friend” returned after that, and sat in the same place with the same damned softness in his eyes. I wanted to kill him for insulting me like he had – and at home I would have done so. I didn’t move from my bed, I didn’t want to talk to him, but he wasn’t having any of that.
“Why are you here again?” he asked me, and I frowned, thinking that whatever was translating his words was mangling it – or I had not caught his meaning.
I was too tired. “I don’t know what you mean.” I sighed.
“Before you were here. Here you are again. Why?”
Either he was mad, or I was. I hoped it was me.
OMG. Just seen the next picture. I may have to go and hide in a corner.© Copyright 2005 Erastes, All rights Reserved. Written For: Erastes