The Falls Option A: Yes
This next part of the adventure was so fun to write! I’ve been listening to the Dresden Files and I think some of his description stuff is getting into my writerly mind =)
Hope you enjoy! Be sure to vote at the end for how you’d like to continue.
The Falls Option A: Yes
His swirling blue eyes watch as you debate your answer. They see your surprise and indecision. He’d probably know if you lied. Those eyes crinkle slightly at the corners with perception and understanding.
“Yes,” you finally say, “but I’ve never been here physically.” You frown, realizing how odd that probably sounds.
The old man’s lips pull up into a careful smile as though he completely understands but enjoys watching you struggle with words.
“Come,” he pushes off the ground to stand up, “let me show you something.”
You let the flap on you satchel fall closed without retrieving your paper and ink and follow him into the small cottage. Immediately within the door, the air touches your skin, thick and heavy with humidity. It’s a wall of moisture that turns movement into a conscious action because it slides the air across your skin like a caress.
On a shelf to your right, a cat watches you with bright green eyes. You make a face at it and the feline yawns in a toothy show.
“Dreams,” the old man says over his shoulder, pulling you from your fascination with the cat, “mean something.”
He picks up a clear marble from a table full of marbles. They vary from pea sized to grapefruit sized but all of them are perfectly clear like raindrops. The table’s edge curves upward, containing the marbles neatly within its frame. It’s not the only such table, you see, as you move deeper into the cottage to find dozens of them.
As soon as he touches the one marble, a grape sized sphere, it swirls to life with brilliant blues and purples.
The old man weaves his way amidst the tables to the middle of the cottage.
“Come,” he beckons you with his free hand. “You must see to understand.”
You move to join him by a flat, circular table. From its center flows a fountain of water that rushes evenly outward and cascades off the edge to land on the floor. There it steams on the dry wood and evaporates. Thus the humidity, you realize.
The old man places the grape sized marble into the very center of the table. It suspends there and the water rushing off the edge fills with wavering images.
Miss. Vera, the town’s only teacher, smiles down at a group of young children. One of them raises a hand and she calls on him before the image falls over the edge to disappear in a hiss against the floor.
“She dreams,” the old man says. “Mostly of her teaching. Those dreams come and go easily. She’s comfortable with her job. But,” he holds up a hand and walks to the far edge of the table. Instead of completing his thought, he points at an image there.
You rush around, thinking the image will disappear off the edge before you can see it, but you needn’t have worried. The image flows like a play, never finishing, never disappearing.
Miss Vsera returns home but hesitates on the porch of her small, faded-blue house. The color of the home darkens like night has fallen but you can see the sun still shining on the porch steps behind her. She sighs and her shoulders slump before she places her hand on the doorknob and enters her home.
The image doesn’t show what’s inside. It darkens briefly and then repeats.
“What happens inside?” you ask.
“Her mind doesn’t go there. Can’t or won’t?” he shrugs. “But we can send her a little encouragement if you like.”
“Yes,” you say instantly, “please.” The repeated image holds your attention, almost bringing tears to your eyes.
“Here’s the tricky part.” the old man draws your attention by sweeping his hand between you and the image. “Do we give her warmth or words?”
Aa. Warmth?
Or
Ab. Words?
Blessings and see you Tuesday,
Jennifer
