SUMMARY: Just a short little ditty--An undigested apple-dumpling of sorts. If it offend, dear reader, then flame away.
__
"Introductions"
__
"I'm Lisa Garland."
"Harry Mason."
There was some question he wasn't asking. It was the only conclusion he could arrive at
that made any sense after waking up for the fourth successive time on a different floor.
This moving about between dream and reality was really beginning to stint the deductive
process.
Not to mention his sanity.
The waking was different this time, though. It had gotten quieter suddenly, as if all the air
had been sucked out of the room and there was no place for sound to move. An isolation
booth? A cell? His thoughts railed against the walls in his head.
The antique shop, albeit slightly altered. Whoever had decorated this place had probably
remodeled the school too.
But that was no matter: Where had he been? Ah yes…the question he hadn't been asking.
But like he had told Cybil, every time he got around to asking himself whatever it was,
blankness ensued. There was Cybil, there was Dahlia, there was Kaufman, there was this
Alessa girl, and there was Cheryl. And Lisa. Why was it that she always showed up in the
darkness and Dahlia always came out of the light? And why was the old woman always
telling him that he was "too late"?
Too late for what? But something in him already knew that she was right. He had been
"too late" from the start, leaving for the trip two hours later than he'd intended, turning
the wheel of the jeep a second too late, waking up to find Cheryl already fading into the
distance. Now he was having trouble just catching up.
He had to find a way to get to those waterworks, no matter what. He couldn't seem to
think beyond that or imagine any complications…what if he couldn't find her, and what
if she wasn't what he was looking for at all?
What if Cheryl was already gone?
Strangely, it wasn't as distasteful as it should have been, thinking of her walking along
the mist and over the water where nothing touched the ground. Like a spirit making its
way back home. But no! That was terrible! She was his daughter!
Wasn't she?
He closed his eyes and tore through the night, flashlight blazing. The darkness squirmed
under the illumination, growing limbs to throw out into his path. He threw bullets back.
He felt for a moment that he, not just his flashlight, shone as he made his way through the
hospital gates. Was he a spirit too? Would he too be going home?
Lisa was sitting on the hospital bench in the same position in which he had left her,
untouched by the rust though she was sitting in it. Strange too, that he had never noticed
it before.
"Lisa?"
She watched him with a look that seemed suddenly the transmission of a secret.
"The sewers," she explained.
"The sewers? I know they're on the map here, but are you sure the tunnels lead all the
way to the park?"
"I'm not sure." She had said that to him already, hadn't she? And he had been to the
water works and the amusement park, where Cybil's body was lying right now on the
merry-go-round, covered in blood.
"I'm Lisa Garland."
"Harry Mason."
There had been a question, hadn't there?
__
"Introductions"
__
"I'm Lisa Garland."
"Harry Mason."
There was some question he wasn't asking. It was the only conclusion he could arrive at
that made any sense after waking up for the fourth successive time on a different floor.
This moving about between dream and reality was really beginning to stint the deductive
process.
Not to mention his sanity.
The waking was different this time, though. It had gotten quieter suddenly, as if all the air
had been sucked out of the room and there was no place for sound to move. An isolation
booth? A cell? His thoughts railed against the walls in his head.
The antique shop, albeit slightly altered. Whoever had decorated this place had probably
remodeled the school too.
But that was no matter: Where had he been? Ah yes…the question he hadn't been asking.
But like he had told Cybil, every time he got around to asking himself whatever it was,
blankness ensued. There was Cybil, there was Dahlia, there was Kaufman, there was this
Alessa girl, and there was Cheryl. And Lisa. Why was it that she always showed up in the
darkness and Dahlia always came out of the light? And why was the old woman always
telling him that he was "too late"?
Too late for what? But something in him already knew that she was right. He had been
"too late" from the start, leaving for the trip two hours later than he'd intended, turning
the wheel of the jeep a second too late, waking up to find Cheryl already fading into the
distance. Now he was having trouble just catching up.
He had to find a way to get to those waterworks, no matter what. He couldn't seem to
think beyond that or imagine any complications…what if he couldn't find her, and what
if she wasn't what he was looking for at all?
What if Cheryl was already gone?
Strangely, it wasn't as distasteful as it should have been, thinking of her walking along
the mist and over the water where nothing touched the ground. Like a spirit making its
way back home. But no! That was terrible! She was his daughter!
Wasn't she?
He closed his eyes and tore through the night, flashlight blazing. The darkness squirmed
under the illumination, growing limbs to throw out into his path. He threw bullets back.
He felt for a moment that he, not just his flashlight, shone as he made his way through the
hospital gates. Was he a spirit too? Would he too be going home?
Lisa was sitting on the hospital bench in the same position in which he had left her,
untouched by the rust though she was sitting in it. Strange too, that he had never noticed
it before.
"Lisa?"
She watched him with a look that seemed suddenly the transmission of a secret.
"The sewers," she explained.
"The sewers? I know they're on the map here, but are you sure the tunnels lead all the
way to the park?"
"I'm not sure." She had said that to him already, hadn't she? And he had been to the
water works and the amusement park, where Cybil's body was lying right now on the
merry-go-round, covered in blood.
"I'm Lisa Garland."
"Harry Mason."
There had been a question, hadn't there?