Truth in Fiction.

Truth in Fiction.

So you might have noticed I didn't blog yesterday. I have been a bit under the weather and yesterday the kitten I hand reared went to his forever home.
So truth in fiction is like truth in dreams. It uses symbols and ideas to covey real things to us. In that vein here is a short piece I wrote rather a long time ago.

“Come and take a seat Mr Collins”

The waiting room was overly warm and even the fake plants drooped in it's oppressive air. He took is usual seat, the one nearest the window, though the view was only of a brick wall of the adjacent building through wooden blinds. The secretary went back to typing something and he adjusted his grey suit trousers and coughed because of the dry air.

The door opened and a man with moist eyes and a dazed smile left the room. An elderly lady in a suit stood behind him and motioned that the man should,

“Speak to Sue, dear. Ah Mr Collins, do come in.”

He stood up slowly and headed towards the room. It always seemed so dark after the neon of the waiting room but it was also cooler and more pleasant.

“Are we ready? I think it is time to push deeper, much deeper.”

He nodded and lay back on the couch and the deep breathing and hypnosis began.

It is dark. I am alone. I was asleep. There was something, something that woke me. I go to the down stairs. My feet are bare on the wooden steps. I go to the glass door that looks out over the lake. Lights. There are lights dancing on the lake. I stand at the window and see them. Like fireflies. Like lanterns. One of them gets bigger. The dark lake shimmers. There are sparks. Something is emerging from the brilliance. A lady in the light. A luminous beacon. Long slender arms white and shimmering, raised above her head.

Her ethereal face obscured by the light emanating from her form, but I know she is beautiful. The black lake reflecting her image and as she dances the reflection in the water shows marble columns and a great hall. I can see it, this other place in the lake. She seems so happy, so full of life. She begins to dance. Tiny droplets of water jump and fly like sparks as she flicks her bare legs in figures of eights. The dancing speaks of to me. It is a grace and a passion, a composure and longing. It has a wildness, a freedom.

I press my face against the cold glass. I hold my breath as it fogs the glass. I want to see. I use my blue and white striped pajamas sleeve wipes the glass. It doesn't work, it smears everything. I open the door.

There are trees around the lake. I seem to notice them for the first time. There are no stars and no moon. The only sound is the gentle lapping of the waves as they lap against the sandy shallow shore.

The dancer doesn't stop, it gets faster. Different. I feel something in my heart. It is racing. I feel warm. Ignited. I am confused. I am delighted. Tears stream down my face. It feels like summer, and Christmas, and love.

The dancer turns her head and looks. I see a figure in the darkness standing on the shore. A woman, a real one not like the dancer. She is closer to the light than I am. The dancer seems pleased and spirals and leaps towards her as though she dances in the hall. She dances closer. The woman raises her hand. It is like they know each other. The dancer's fingers touch the woman’s hand and the woman is illuminated. She is crying. She is smiling. Yet there is something sad between them. Something longing.

I wipe my face with the back of my sleeve. Slowly the dancer coaxes the lady onto the lake and they stand on the surface as though it is ice or marble. My heart races. They shimmer and shine together. They orbit like stars. They leap and skip. There is a something different, the joy seems to grow into a sorrow. They wrap there arms around each other for a moment. Then they nod and separate.

The lady takes something from her coat. It seems heavy. It is a dagger in a sheath. She raises it above her head. The dancer kisses her face. The woman for a moment glows like a flame but she pulls away. She throws the dagger into the air. The dancer leaps, and spins.

It falls slowly like a leaf but as it touches the surface of the lake there is a blinding flash. Then darkness.

I look at the lake. I strain to hear. The lake ripples slightly. The trees sigh. A fox in the distance cries. My eyes are searching, searching the lake for the dancer or the woman. There is a splash. I can not tell where it came from. I run into the darkness.

My bare feet run to where the lady had been standing. I stand still, trying to see something. I try and listen. There is something. Something in the water. In the water, the cold dark water the woman struggles to swim. I get a branch and reach it out to her and she pulls herself closer to the bank. Her hair is slicked to her head and her face is streaked with mud. She hauls herself with much effort and heavy fabric onto the bank. I recognise this woman.

“Mum?”

She tilts her head and smiles wearily.

“It's late, back in bed.”

We walk back to the house. Every footfall makes a wet noise. I say nothing. My mother says nothing. We walk back to the house. It is strange to see it so dark. She opens the door and I climb the stairs to goes back to bed.

I turn and look at her. She is taking off her shoes.

“Mum?”

“Tomorrow, Lucas.”

Her voice is shaky and thick with emotion. Tears are streaming down her face. I want to know. To understand. I stand there on the stairs unable to move.

Then there is a scream. A terrible, terrible scream.

I barely see her move but she is rushing me upstairs pushing me gently but insistently towards the bathroom. We go into the cold room together and she picks me up and gets into the bath with me. She pulls the towels in with us. Her teeth are chattering so she clenches her mouth tightly. She hugs me so close to her chest. Her heart is racing. She smells of mud and leaves and damp. She keeps whispering the same thing over and over.

“It will be all right.”

There is a crash outside but she holds me tightly so I don't sit up. The wind howls and the windows shake. There is another crash. I start to cry. She keeps whispering and kissing my head. There is a flash of light.

“What is it Mummy?”

“A storm, a terrible storm. Just a storm.”

I can hear her heart hammering against my cheek. The house begins to moan and groan. I hear something shatter.

“What is it really Mummy?”

“The dragon, the dragon is passing through. Oh Lady protect me.”

The wind howls and I jump at every crash. Yet she holds me tightly. Her teeth stop chattering and her breathing becomes easier. The storm seems to lessen. The noise and light have passed.