cspector.worldwithoutend-第2部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　Are　you　waiting/or　me？　Have　you　been　waiting　for　me？　Does　your　flesh　crave　my　caress？　Do　you　remember？　Remember　the　centuries　of　pain　and　humiliation？
　Do　you　know　how　I　have　missed　you？
　The　sound　of　his　voice　echoed　inside　me。
　I　went　to　the　thermostat　and　pushed　it　up。　To　hell　with　the　regs　about　fuel　waste；　I　thought。　A　century　ago；　Caimbeui　had　given　me　a　Renoir。　I　liked　to　look　at　it　when　I　felt　like　this。　Afraid　and　lonely　in　the　dark　hours　before　dawn　when　the　past　spreads　before　me　like　a　black　spill　of　ink。
　I　flicked　my　hand　and　the　illusionary　wall　I'd　created　long　ago　vanished。　It　was　a　simple　enough　spell；　though　in　the　past　few　centuries　there'd　been　little　enough　magic　to　go　around。
　That　was　changing。
　The　last　few　years…a　human　life　span…just　a　drop　to　me…had　seen　such　a　burst　of　magical　en…orgy　and　growth。　The　Awakening；　they　called　it　on　their　ugly　little　trids。　Oh；　I　know　Dunkelzahn　found　this　brave　new　world　far　too　fascinating；　but　he'd　been　dreaming　for　more　than　five　thousand　years。　What　would　he　know　of　it？　He　hadn't　seen　what　the　world　had　bee。
　I　stepped　into　my　room。　The　walls　were　windowless　and　covered　in　heavy　oak　paneling。　Artwork　and　bookcases　covered　every　available　space；　crammed　full　of　everything　I　found　precious。　Centored　on　the　north　wall　was　the　Renoir。
　It　was　of　a　young　woman　and　a　little　girl　sitting　on　a　balcony。　The　woman　was　wearing　a　brilliant　red　hat　and　she　had　a　face　of　such　sweetness　that　just　looking　at　her　almost　hurt。　I　remembered　when　he'd　painted　it。　A　beautiful　copy　used　to　hang　in　the　Chicago　Art　Institute；　but　I　think　it　might　have　been　destroyed　during　the　riots　in　2011。
　So　much　beauty　was　lost　then。
　Here　in　my　secret　room　I　kept　the　relics　of　so　many　dead　worlds。　Of　course　dead　worlds　are　all　around　us。　They're　just　so　much　a　part　of　our　lives　that　we　stop　thinking　about　it。　In　London；　five…hundred…year…old　buildings　snuggle　next　to　glass　columns　built　yesterday。　Asphalt　poured　in　nineteen…fifty　is　worn　down　by　the　wheels　of　a　thousand　rigs　never　dreamed　of　until　five　years　ago。　And　the　sweetmeats　dance　in　nightclubs　with　rags　on　their　backs　sewn　in　sweatshops　during　the　eighties。　But　that　was　just　a　momentary　madness。　A　fad。　A　passing　whimsy　of　fashion。
　The　things　I'd　distract　myself　with　at　times　like　that。
　And　here　too　were　memories　from　a　place　and　time　out　of　mind。　A　place　as　unreal　to　this　world　as　　any　trideo　fantasy。　What　possessed　me　to　recreate　what　I　could　remember？　That　time　was　done。　Over。　Dust。　Right。
　Then　why　were　there　pictures　painted　by　artists　far　greater　than　I；　depicting　places　described　by　me？　Why　had　I　done　it？　Why　had　I　asked　Francisco　Lucientes　to　recreate　those　nightmare　visions？　What　madness　had　I　unlocked　from　his　mind？　For　surely　he　saw　them…saw　the　demons。
　His　painting　leaned　against　the　wall；　face　down。　I　reached　out　and　turned　it　around。　Curators　from　every　museum　of　the　world　would　kill　to　have　this　lost　treasure。　Could　they　have　understood　it　came　not　from　Goya's　demented　vision；　but　from　mine？
　It　showed　a　forest　of　such　expanse　that　it　fled　from　the　viewer's　sight　back　into　a　ghostly　oblivion。　Standing　in　the　foreground　were　two　people：　a　male　and　a　female。　She　was　human；　slight　of　build　with　a　curious　face。　He　was　an　elf；　tall　and　lithe　with　dark　hair　and　a　small　goatee。　Growing　from　his　body　were　thorns。
　The　skin　was　puckered　where　the　thorns　protruded　from　his　flesh。　They　ran　across　his　face　and　showed　as　stark　points　across　the　back　of　his　hands。　A　thousand　slashes　rent　his　tunic；　letting　the　thorns　escape。
　I　reached　out　and　almost　touched　their　faces　with　my　fingertips。
　Tears　were　streaming　down　my　cheeks　as　hot　and　warm　on　my　face　as　the　blood　that　once　fed　that　great　forest。　Blood　poured　from　the　wounds　of　my　people。
　But　that　wasn't　the　worst　of　what　had　been　in　that　time。
　My　own　plicity。　Could　such　acts　of　evil　ever　be　forgiven？　Or　forgotten？
　I　tried　to　push　these　dark　thoughts　away。　But　the　dream　wouldn't　let　me　go。　Wouldn't　let　me　forget。　I'd　let　myself　bee　distracted　by　worldly　matters。　I'd　forgotten　why　I　was　here。
　I　swallowed　the　last　of　the　scotch。　A　pleasant　heat　had　settled　into　my　limbs。　Perhaps　now　I　would　be　able　to　sleep。　With　a　simple　gesture　the　illusionary　wall　was　once　more　in　place。　I　went　upstairs。　After　closing　the　drapes；　I　settled　under　the　quilts　and　forters。　But　I　couldn't　bring　myself　to　turn　off　the　light。　A　childish　notion；　but　it　gave　me　some　fort。
　And　small　fort　was　all　I　would　have　for　a　long　time　to　e。
　A　vast　forest　stretches　out　before　her。　Green　and　lush。　Beautiful　and　deadly。　And　there　are　secrets。　Terrible　secrets。　She　steps　forward　and　feels　that　she　is　sinking　into　something。　Looking　down；　she　sees　her　foot　being　swallowed　by　a　pool　of　blood。
　Dreams；　I　thought；　can't　hurt　you。
　The　day　was　dreary　and　overcast。　They　usually　were　here。　It　was　well　past　noon　before　I　managed　to　pull　myself　from　bed。　Despite　the　scotch　and　leaving　the　light　on；　I　didn't　manage　to　sleep　until　after　the　sun　rose。
　Normally；　I　would　have　downloaded　the　morning　Times　and　printed　it　out　while　I　made　tea。　But　I　felt　restless　and　penned…in　by　the　house。　I　threw　on　jeans；　boots；　and　heavy　sweater；　then　grabbed　my　leather　jacket　as　I　went　outside。　It　was　late　October　and　already　the　wind　was　blowing　colder　from　the　north。
　It　took　me　a　few　minutes　to　climb　down　to　the　beach。　During　the　night　it　had　rained　and　the　path　was　muddy。　I　slipped　a　little　as　I　ran　down　it。　The　sharp　tang　of　the　air　cleared　my　mind。
　Dreams；　only　dreams。
　But　I　suspected　they　weren't。　I'd　had　premoni…trons　like　this　before。　Before　the　Great　Ghost　Dance　in　1888。　And　again　before　the　one　in　2014。　Before　the　first　VITAS　plague。　Before　the　start　of　goblinization　in　2021。　Each　time　I'd　seen　what　was　to　e　and　I　couldn't　stop　it。
　
　Oh　I'd　tried；　but　the　others　weren't　willing　to　listen。　But　they　rarely　thought　about　the　consequences　of　anything　that　was　happening。　It　has　been　that　way　for　far　too　long。　They've　forgotten。　Or　didn't　believe　the　danger　was　so　close　at　hand。
　
　I　was　so　engrossed　with　my　morbid　thoughts　that　by　the　time　I　looked　up；　I'd　gone　onto　my　neighbor's　property。　He　was　a　surly　bastard　and　hated　the　fact　that　he　had　an　elf　for　a　neighbor。　What　was　it　he　called　me？　Ah　yes；　a　pointy…eared；　pencil…necked；　daisy…eating　nigger。　The　last　I　assumed　had　to　do　with　my　skin　color。　It　took　every　ounce　of　self…restraint　I　had　not　to　slowly　pull　his　tongue　out　his　hoop　the　hard　way。
　
　But　the　Brits　had　an　annoying　habit　of　frowning　upon　murder。　Especially　when　it　involved　a　human　and　any　sort　of　〃meta〃　being。　However；　there　were　plenty　of　elves　among　the　nobility　in　the　UK；　and　I　actually　had　good　relationships　with　them。　I　hated　to　bum　karma　with　them　on　someone　who　would　be　more　annoyed　by　my　continuing　presence。
　
　I　turned　and　made　my　way　back　to　the　house。　The　fog　had　burned　off　finally　and　it　was　looking　to　be　a　rare　sunny　day。　My　security　system　let　me　back　in　with　a　cheery；　〃Good　morning。　It's　October　20；　2056。　The　temperature　is　9　Celsius　outside。。。〃　It　rambled　on　and　on；　and　once　again　I　reminded　myself　to　have　the　thing　removed。　But　I　always　forgot。　So　tomorrow　it　would　be　the　same；　〃Good　morning。　It's　October　21；　2056。　The　temperature　is。。。　blah　blah　blah。〃
　
　As　I　pulled　off　my　boots　in　the　mud　room；　I　found　myself　whistling　an　old　tune。　Well；　maybe　not　whis…fling；　more　a　tuneless　wheeze。
　
　Look　on　the　bright　side　of　life。。。　dee；　dah；　dee　dee　deedilty　dah。
　
　I　couldn't　remember　any　more　of　the　words。　That　used　to　drive　Caimbeui　crazy　when　we　were　together。　My　inability　to　remember　more　than　a　few　snatches　of　lyrics　from　any　song。　Sometimes　I　even　got　the　words　wrong。　What　was　that　called？　Oh；　yes；　mondegreens。
　
　The　kitchen　was　warm　and　I　set　the　kettle　on　to　boil　on　the　flat　heating　element。　I　went　upstairs　and　started　the　water　for　a　bath。　Stripping　out　of　my　clothes；　I　grabbed　my　robe　and　wrapped　it　around　me。　The　kettle　had　begun　to　whistle　and　I　went　downstairs　to　fix　tea。
　
　In　a　few　moments　I　had　a　tray　all　set　to　take　upstairs。　Sheer　decadence　to　dispel　the　night　fears。　Tea　and　scones　while　taking　a　hot　bath。　May