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So..This is a story I started today. This is only the first part. Haven't a clue if I'll finish it, or how many parts there'll be. But I hope you enjoy, anyway. It's a bit strange, apparently.
--
Mindfield
- I
Ben sat on the wooden floor of his room. He had a chair. It was beautiful, hand carved and upholstered in fabric of the deepest aquamarine. It was special. He didn't sit in it, for the simple reason that he was not special. Neither did he lie on his neat-as-a-pin bed, or at the swivel chair carefully tucked under his desk. Clothes lay folded perfectly on the dresser, and the computer screen was black.
This room was dead.
So Ben sat on his wooden floor that was made centuries ago, and stared out of the window at the rain pounding against it. He liked rain. There seemed to be so much life in it. Vitality was a good thing, in the endless and complicated books of Ben. He sighed and shifted position. He didn't have to. It was his choice, he was making a change. He sighed and crossed his legs again. It was more comfortable.
--
The thing about Ben Wilkins was this. He was 18, and he had it made. A place at Oxford studying medicine was his unconditionally, and the minute he ripped open his A-Level results he knew he'd got straight A's. His parents doted on him, but didn't spoil him. Life was good for one Ben Wilkins.
Then riddle me this, he mused to himself on this rainy day, why do I wish I was 8 again, sat on the hearth in front of a log fire reading Harry bloody Potter?
--
Ben let himself quietly out of the back door. He loved the house. Built from reclaimed materials at the end of the 19th century, its bold beam support and thatch roof appealed perfectly to his sentimental side. Or maybe it's because it's lifeless. Just like you.
Ben ambled along the muddy footpath that wound its way peacefully through the fields that surrounded his village. He stared down at the ground, watching water well up and run away from his boots. He was making for the bench carved from a fallen oak tree. He knew it well. He used to walk his golden retriever up here. He reached it. No-one was in sight, as usual. He liked it that way. When people were around him they tended to make a noise in his thoughts.
And Ben never wondered how strange that was.
He sat down heavily on the bench and rested his head on his upraised palms.
"Ah, there you are. Been waiting for you."
The voice cut into Bens forced solitude, nervous impulses jerking his spine upright. A boy of about his age was sitting next to him, clad in a heavy raincoat and a dark suit. He was attempting to whistle a jaunty tune, but Ben got the feeling that jaunty was not a natural state for this man.
"Who the hell are you?" asked Ben angrily. He did not like to be disturbed.
"Now thats not very polite. I come up here of my own accord. These shoes are suede, you know."
Ben stood. This guy seemed innocent enough, but he felt dangerous.
"Oh calm down Ben. I am you, after all."
A silence hung over the conversation.
"You're...what?" said Ben.
"You. Now, onto business..."
"Hang on a minute. What the...Who..What on God's green earth are you babbling about?"
The other man leant back on the bench. Ben, despite himself, looked at the guys features. The age was the same, sure, but apart from that they shared nothing in common. Ben said as much.
"You're only looking in the normal dimensions, Benjamin." said the man, cryptically.
"Don't you have a name?" asked Ben.
"Well, yes. It's Ben." said Ben.
"This is a little creepy, you know. Are you an escapee from the mental prision up at..."
"No, No, No! I. Am. You. Please pay attention."
"Why don't you shut u.." began Ben.
"Fourty seven minutes ago you wished that you were 8 again."
Ben stopped. He turned away, gasping for air. It's a trick, thats all. But how could he know my thoughts? He turned back.
The man was gone. Ben span around quickly, looked under the bench, even over the hedge. He'd simply vanished. Ben dragged a hand over his face to wipe away nervous sweat and took a couple of paces backwards. Then he turned around and sprinted back to the village. He'd never wonder why there were only one set of footprints leading up the hill.
--
"Faith makes everybody scared, see I know, you don't know, keeps me hanging on..."
Ben mouthed the words to the song as he lay on his wooden floor, staring out at the rain. He turned a gemstone over and over in his fingers. There was nothing special about it. Ben preferred not to have contact with anything especially special. He wasn't special enough, you see. Ben grinned at the ceiling. The ceiling was white. Plain, like him. Ben sighed, and banged his head gently against the aged floor. He closed his eyes, letting the music wash over him.
When he opened them, he was standing on a moor. Ben knew it was a moor because a sign was in front of him, saying "Moor". He looked around, wide-eyed. He'd closed his eyes a second ago, he couldn't have fallen asleep. Surely. He'd turned full circle now. Nothing in sight. Just a massive rolling mass of...moor, like the sign said. Then Ben saw something in the distance. Something Ben swore hadn't been there before.
"This makes no sense." said Ben. Then he shrugged and set off towards the distant object. Hey, if this was a dream, what harm can it do, right?
He took one step, and the object came to him. Somehow. It was a flat boulder, with a girl sitting cross-legged on top. She was dressed in a flowing dress, and her brown hair cascaded onto her shoulders and caught the light. She was beautiful, Ben realised. And...reading. She was concentrating on a book, eyes skimming lightly over the words. Ben twisted his head to read it. Then he gulped and waved his hand in front of his eyes several times. Then he looked again. Nothing had changed. The only word on the page was his name, in large font, repeated over and over.
I'm just dreaming, thought Ben. Instataneously, the girl looked up, treating him to a dazzling smile.
"You're not dreaming." she grinned at him. Ben found himself gaping, again. And not just because he felt a blush burning at his cheeks.
"I...uh...you can read my mind?" he asked, stuttering. He never stuttered.
"Well, I am you after all." she said happily, and pushed herself up off the rock. She gave Ben a tight hug, and kissed him lightly. Then she gave a laugh and skipped off among the heather. Ben just stared after her.
"Jesus Christ almighty..." he thought. What the hell is going on?
"Don't ask me. I mean you." she shouted back at him, and then laughed at a joke only she could hear.
--
Ben sat bolt upright on the floor of his room. The rain was still lashing down, as if determined to shatter the glass. He gasped, running his tongue over the roof of his mouth. It felt dry, as if he'd been asleep for hours.
"I am falling into grace, to the unknown..."
The same song was playing. What was going on? He glanced at his watch. It was half an hour before he'd fallen asleep, or whatever had just happened to him? Ben pushed his fingers into his temples and started a slow clockwise rotation. God damn, his head hurt. He locked his fingers and pushed them against the back of his head, laying back on the floor. If it was half an hour ago, then he'd just be getting back from the walk. But how could he, when he was here?
"Yeah, thats a knotty one, that." said a familiar voice. Ben jerked upright and felt a muscle in his arm scream in protest. He grimaced and pulled his arms free, glaring at the figure sitting in his aquamarine chair.
"You're not real. You can't be me." spat Ben. All this was annoying him, and threatening to rip him apart.
"And you'd love that, wouldn't you?" continued the figure, ignoring Ben. "To be shattered, destroyed, by something you can't understand. The ultimate irony."
"You're just a figment of my imagination." muttered Ben.
"Oh, a figment, am I? Are you?" He leant closer and grabbed Ben's chin with two fingers, tilting his head so he was whispering into Ben's ear. "Do you really think you've got the imagination for this?"
He let go, and Ben's head sagged. He covered his face with his hands, and leant forward. The man settled himself in the chair, staring out of the window.
"Now," he continued, "someone like you might concieve an elaborate scheme for how you'd been thrust back in time half an hour while in your sleep. Perhaps a temporal fold, or an anomaly. Something...deep. You'd like that. Whereas, someone like me, that is to say, you, would simply do this."
He leant forward, grabbed Ben's wrist, and pulled the watch off. He twirled the dial half an hour forward, and pointed to the clock on the wall. The times matched. The man laughed. And Ben laughed, finally, tears seeping down his arms. They laughed together, feeling the humour well up inside them.
Ben suddenly lurched forwards, swinging a muscled arm in rage, face screwed up in anger.
"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT FROM ME?" yelled Ben. His fist connected with nothing.
The room was empty.
--
Mindfield
- I
Ben sat on the wooden floor of his room. He had a chair. It was beautiful, hand carved and upholstered in fabric of the deepest aquamarine. It was special. He didn't sit in it, for the simple reason that he was not special. Neither did he lie on his neat-as-a-pin bed, or at the swivel chair carefully tucked under his desk. Clothes lay folded perfectly on the dresser, and the computer screen was black.
This room was dead.
So Ben sat on his wooden floor that was made centuries ago, and stared out of the window at the rain pounding against it. He liked rain. There seemed to be so much life in it. Vitality was a good thing, in the endless and complicated books of Ben. He sighed and shifted position. He didn't have to. It was his choice, he was making a change. He sighed and crossed his legs again. It was more comfortable.
--
The thing about Ben Wilkins was this. He was 18, and he had it made. A place at Oxford studying medicine was his unconditionally, and the minute he ripped open his A-Level results he knew he'd got straight A's. His parents doted on him, but didn't spoil him. Life was good for one Ben Wilkins.
Then riddle me this, he mused to himself on this rainy day, why do I wish I was 8 again, sat on the hearth in front of a log fire reading Harry bloody Potter?
--
Ben let himself quietly out of the back door. He loved the house. Built from reclaimed materials at the end of the 19th century, its bold beam support and thatch roof appealed perfectly to his sentimental side. Or maybe it's because it's lifeless. Just like you.
Ben ambled along the muddy footpath that wound its way peacefully through the fields that surrounded his village. He stared down at the ground, watching water well up and run away from his boots. He was making for the bench carved from a fallen oak tree. He knew it well. He used to walk his golden retriever up here. He reached it. No-one was in sight, as usual. He liked it that way. When people were around him they tended to make a noise in his thoughts.
And Ben never wondered how strange that was.
He sat down heavily on the bench and rested his head on his upraised palms.
"Ah, there you are. Been waiting for you."
The voice cut into Bens forced solitude, nervous impulses jerking his spine upright. A boy of about his age was sitting next to him, clad in a heavy raincoat and a dark suit. He was attempting to whistle a jaunty tune, but Ben got the feeling that jaunty was not a natural state for this man.
"Who the hell are you?" asked Ben angrily. He did not like to be disturbed.
"Now thats not very polite. I come up here of my own accord. These shoes are suede, you know."
Ben stood. This guy seemed innocent enough, but he felt dangerous.
"Oh calm down Ben. I am you, after all."
A silence hung over the conversation.
"You're...what?" said Ben.
"You. Now, onto business..."
"Hang on a minute. What the...Who..What on God's green earth are you babbling about?"
The other man leant back on the bench. Ben, despite himself, looked at the guys features. The age was the same, sure, but apart from that they shared nothing in common. Ben said as much.
"You're only looking in the normal dimensions, Benjamin." said the man, cryptically.
"Don't you have a name?" asked Ben.
"Well, yes. It's Ben." said Ben.
"This is a little creepy, you know. Are you an escapee from the mental prision up at..."
"No, No, No! I. Am. You. Please pay attention."
"Why don't you shut u.." began Ben.
"Fourty seven minutes ago you wished that you were 8 again."
Ben stopped. He turned away, gasping for air. It's a trick, thats all. But how could he know my thoughts? He turned back.
The man was gone. Ben span around quickly, looked under the bench, even over the hedge. He'd simply vanished. Ben dragged a hand over his face to wipe away nervous sweat and took a couple of paces backwards. Then he turned around and sprinted back to the village. He'd never wonder why there were only one set of footprints leading up the hill.
--
"Faith makes everybody scared, see I know, you don't know, keeps me hanging on..."
Ben mouthed the words to the song as he lay on his wooden floor, staring out at the rain. He turned a gemstone over and over in his fingers. There was nothing special about it. Ben preferred not to have contact with anything especially special. He wasn't special enough, you see. Ben grinned at the ceiling. The ceiling was white. Plain, like him. Ben sighed, and banged his head gently against the aged floor. He closed his eyes, letting the music wash over him.
When he opened them, he was standing on a moor. Ben knew it was a moor because a sign was in front of him, saying "Moor". He looked around, wide-eyed. He'd closed his eyes a second ago, he couldn't have fallen asleep. Surely. He'd turned full circle now. Nothing in sight. Just a massive rolling mass of...moor, like the sign said. Then Ben saw something in the distance. Something Ben swore hadn't been there before.
"This makes no sense." said Ben. Then he shrugged and set off towards the distant object. Hey, if this was a dream, what harm can it do, right?
He took one step, and the object came to him. Somehow. It was a flat boulder, with a girl sitting cross-legged on top. She was dressed in a flowing dress, and her brown hair cascaded onto her shoulders and caught the light. She was beautiful, Ben realised. And...reading. She was concentrating on a book, eyes skimming lightly over the words. Ben twisted his head to read it. Then he gulped and waved his hand in front of his eyes several times. Then he looked again. Nothing had changed. The only word on the page was his name, in large font, repeated over and over.
I'm just dreaming, thought Ben. Instataneously, the girl looked up, treating him to a dazzling smile.
"You're not dreaming." she grinned at him. Ben found himself gaping, again. And not just because he felt a blush burning at his cheeks.
"I...uh...you can read my mind?" he asked, stuttering. He never stuttered.
"Well, I am you after all." she said happily, and pushed herself up off the rock. She gave Ben a tight hug, and kissed him lightly. Then she gave a laugh and skipped off among the heather. Ben just stared after her.
"Jesus Christ almighty..." he thought. What the hell is going on?
"Don't ask me. I mean you." she shouted back at him, and then laughed at a joke only she could hear.
--
Ben sat bolt upright on the floor of his room. The rain was still lashing down, as if determined to shatter the glass. He gasped, running his tongue over the roof of his mouth. It felt dry, as if he'd been asleep for hours.
"I am falling into grace, to the unknown..."
The same song was playing. What was going on? He glanced at his watch. It was half an hour before he'd fallen asleep, or whatever had just happened to him? Ben pushed his fingers into his temples and started a slow clockwise rotation. God damn, his head hurt. He locked his fingers and pushed them against the back of his head, laying back on the floor. If it was half an hour ago, then he'd just be getting back from the walk. But how could he, when he was here?
"Yeah, thats a knotty one, that." said a familiar voice. Ben jerked upright and felt a muscle in his arm scream in protest. He grimaced and pulled his arms free, glaring at the figure sitting in his aquamarine chair.
"You're not real. You can't be me." spat Ben. All this was annoying him, and threatening to rip him apart.
"And you'd love that, wouldn't you?" continued the figure, ignoring Ben. "To be shattered, destroyed, by something you can't understand. The ultimate irony."
"You're just a figment of my imagination." muttered Ben.
"Oh, a figment, am I? Are you?" He leant closer and grabbed Ben's chin with two fingers, tilting his head so he was whispering into Ben's ear. "Do you really think you've got the imagination for this?"
He let go, and Ben's head sagged. He covered his face with his hands, and leant forward. The man settled himself in the chair, staring out of the window.
"Now," he continued, "someone like you might concieve an elaborate scheme for how you'd been thrust back in time half an hour while in your sleep. Perhaps a temporal fold, or an anomaly. Something...deep. You'd like that. Whereas, someone like me, that is to say, you, would simply do this."
He leant forward, grabbed Ben's wrist, and pulled the watch off. He twirled the dial half an hour forward, and pointed to the clock on the wall. The times matched. The man laughed. And Ben laughed, finally, tears seeping down his arms. They laughed together, feeling the humour well up inside them.
Ben suddenly lurched forwards, swinging a muscled arm in rage, face screwed up in anger.
"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT FROM ME?" yelled Ben. His fist connected with nothing.
The room was empty.
Page:
Hey, it's that or ringing Durham Uni. Plus I like stories.
Hope you have plenty of spare time....
I'm heading out in a minute, but upon my triumphant return they shall be read.
I wasn't accusing you of copying, just noting that it was familiar territory.
Parts 1-5 of mine are here:
http://ukchatforums.reserve.co.uk/ display_messages.php?threadid=67344&forumid=423
Parts 6 and 7 have a thread each still on this page, just.
Parts 1-5 of mine are here:
http://ukchatforums.reserve.co.uk/ display_messages.php?threadid=67344&forumid=423
Parts 6 and 7 have a thread each still on this page, just.
It's not copied from anywhere, just an idea I had. Give us a link for your story?
Cheers for reading.
Cheers for reading.
Hmm. Just read the first part. Have to say it sounds familiar to me. Not because I've seen it written before, but because I'm writing something similar about someone finding it difficult to distinguish dreams from reality.
Have you tried reading my Half Life stuff? It's still a work in progress itself, but no harm in giving it a glance, eh?
I'll finish off reading your story some other time. Haven't quite got THAT much free time at work.
Have you tried reading my Half Life stuff? It's still a work in progress itself, but no harm in giving it a glance, eh?
I'll finish off reading your story some other time. Haven't quite got THAT much free time at work.
God, it's been ages since I added to this. Whole set of different posters on here now. Erm, it's a crap story, but I'm trying.
- IX
"Jenny!" yelled Ben, as he stared down at the blood seeping out from Neb. He stared around him, eyes darting everywhere. All he wanted was a sign...Ben sank to his knees, sobbing. Where was she? All his life, all he'd wanted was a purpose, something to hold onto. Neb sighed softly. Thin red lines were blossoming across his shirt, spreading faster as the rain hit his chest. Ben stared. That was blood...He reached down, ripping open Neb's shirt.
"Always told yourself there was some of that in you..." muttered Neb, laughing softly. He coughed, blood bubbling through his teeth. Ben gritted his teeth together. Slash marks crossed Neb's chest. He had been sliced open, by something unbelievably viscious. Neb grabbed Ben suddenly, dragging him down to eye level.
"Don't let her do this to you!" he screamed, bellowing the words.
"Who? Jenny? What is she going to do to me? Neb! NEB! WHAT IS Jenny GOING TO DO TO ME!" screamed Ben back, frantically. "Oh God, please don't die. Please don't..." Tears were punching their way out of Ben's eyes now, flowing down his cheeks. Ben wiped a hand over his face, a hand covered in blood. He recoiled as he tasted the salt of the tears mixed with the metallic tang of blood. He looked down as the blood-coated body of Ben, and retched. He threw himself away, rolling violently away from the body. My god, I said body...
He lay back, rivulets of blood spattering his face. Neb was dead. He was dead. What had Jenny done to him? The pressure on his face eased. The rain had stopped. He patted his clothes. They were dry. He laughed, bitterly. Something like this always happened. He laughed again, feeling the malice he had been harbouring inside himself rip itself free, echoing around the bleakness. He had never felt this before. Utter despair.
It was terrifying.
--
Jennys eyes snapped open. The blood had stopped. She grinned.
"All better now."
She vanished.
--
- X
Ben felt a hand caress his cheek. He sighed, and raised his own to touch it.
"Jenny...My god, I missed you."
"Why do you keep saying that?" The voice was unfamiliar. Ben bolted to his feet.
There was a little girl standing several feet away, sitting on his aquamarine chair. Her short blonde hair was held back with a plain back hairband, and she looked as if she were dressed to go to a wedding. Her white satin dress seemed to have lace everywhere. It was almost as if it shone. She was wearing white sandals, with intricate patternwork, and she was holding something in her hand. Ben couldn't see what. She was singing softly, to herself. Ben blinked. A little girl alone in this desert somehow seemed a lot stranger than a gutted fictional character.
"Why do I keep saying what?" The little girl didn't answer. Instead she stared at the sky.
"You're going to face it. You can run all you want. You can even fly. You'll have to face it, and on that day..."
"On what day? What will happen?"
"Why, The Day of Judgement, silly." she laughed, sheer joy in her voice.
"I'm going to be judged? What will happen on that day?"
"On the Day?" she laughed again, and beckoned. Ben looked around him. She beckoned again, and started to skip away. Ben shrugged, and followed. She skipped lightly from foot to foot, somehow avoiding the pools of water, and the heather patches. Ben ran to keep up, panting. She was skipping towards a series of caves, outlined by a dazzlingly tall waterfall. Where did that come from? He'd have been able to see that. The little girl stood framed in one of the cave entrances, beckoning. Ben took a last glance behind him, searching for a sign of Jenny. Things would be better went she got here. They had to be. If he hadn't been concentrating so hard on that, he might have noticed that there were faces in the waterfall.
Screaming faces.
--
Ben clambered into the entrance. Fine sand covered the floor, with a single set of footprints leading the way. He followed. He didn't really think about what he was doing. He didn't know where he was, but what he did know was that he had seen a man die of the most brutal attack he had ever seen. Except there had been no attack. Blood on his hands...Ben had never known blood on his hands before.
"Is this a dagger I see before me?" muttered Ben under his breath. Everywhere in the cave the sound of the little girls laughter. Somehow, that was comforting. He didn't question why. He was taking a lot on faith since this whole thing started.
He turned a corner to see the little girl hopping along a line.
"Can you keep that up?" he asked.
"Never been the issue, Mister."
"It hasn't."
"Think about it." she said, her tongue sticking out as she concentrated on not falling off the line. She flailed her arms to the side wildly.
I know that...
"Once upon a little girl, there was time." She said. "And this time wanted nothing more than to move. It felt this was its purpose. All it wanted was to move. This was all it hoped."
"Hope." Ben snorted mockingly. "Yeah, I've heard about that. Some form of French food, right?"
She smiled. "You're funny, Mister."
"Yeah, I heard that once."
"One day, this time found something. Do you know what that was, Funny Man?"
Ben shrugged. "One of those little umbrellas you put in cocktails? I always get the pink ones. I think someone is trying to tell me something."
"You need a crown, and a throne. A robe, and a golden horn, filling the world with the essence of your name."
"Maybe later."
She stopped hopping. "Isn't that what you always tell yourself? Maybe later? When you die, is it maybe later that you're going to start living?"
"What about life after death?" countered Ben, for the sake of it. This little girl was beginning to scare him.
"You believe."
"I believe in what, exactly? By the way, if you see a wolf dressed in an old persons clothes, I'd advise you to run."
"Oh, I have my crown."
"You're wierd, little White Girl." muttered Ben. He figured there was sense, then no sense, then about fifty feet under that, his sense of mind. He sat against a wall and felt the sand running through his fingers.
"So what do I believe in? Salvation? Communism? Those bags from supermarkets that seem to break exactly when you don't want them to? I hate those."
"You believe that there is someone out there for you. Someone who will hold you, and stroke your hair, and tell you that everything will be fine. And because her voice will fill your soul, you'll know she's right..."
"Shut up." interrupted Ben.
"You'll see her, and you'll love her. You'll know it, immediately, right here." The little girl touched her gut.
"I said be quiet." Ben's voice carried an edge.
"You know." She laughed. "It's happened to you before. You've seen a girl, and you've loved her. Did that break you, Funny Man? Did it?" She skipped closer to him. "Did it hurt the first time you saw her eyes and knew she would never love you back?"
Ben said nothing. The little girl clapped her hands together in delight.
"Oh, this is a fun game." She twirled around in a circle, her dress glowing. "She took your crown, didn't she? She took it and laughed as she placed it on her own head." She looked at him. "Oh yes, she took your crown."
Ben tried to shrug, but he felt if he did move that the tears he was holding back would roll. The little girl patted him on the head gently.
"There, there. Shall I tell the rest of the story?" Her hand was still clenched.
"Only if it has death." snarled Ben. She laughed again, and jumped up and down.
"Oh, that's to come. I can control it, you know. Do you believe me?"
Ben shrugged again. "I'm taking a lot on faith already. Hell, I think if I take any more on faith than my back will break."
"Didn't that already happen?" laughed the girl. "She did that to you. The one with two crowns. Do you hate her? Will you have the one who she choses?"
"What can I say? I'm just a loving person."
"The sand speaks to me, you know. It says things, about the sights it has seen."
"Wonderful. Sand, other sand, a fish, more sand."
"And a beautiful girl, with blood on her. Oh, it's so sad! Will she dance again?"
"What?" Ben leant forward. "What have you seen?"
She winked at him. "Not supposed to tell people things. They might be comforted. I can go around comforting people."
"So what do you do to people? Tell them the time story. That's a great one. Dickens would have swooned."
"Hehe, you silly, don't lie."
"Yeah, you're right. Dickens was a tart. Now tell me about this girl?"
"No." She stamped her foot petulantly.
"Please?"
"Oh, people say please to me all the time."
"Does it work?" She giggled.
"Oh no, I don't like people to be happy. I like it when they fight. My little pawns, fighting for me. I like it when people fight for me."
I'm not going to fight for you."
"Really? If you fight, I can show you such things as you've never imagined."
"I imagine quite well."
"The hourglass, turning and turning. Funny man!"
"What?"
"Bored now. Can I tell you want I want for my birthday, Mister?"
"The store might be closed."
"It's always closed. People knock on the door and they get no answer. Oh please, Mister! Let me tell you what I want for my birthday!"
"Knock yourself out."
"Someone knocked themselves out for me, once. He didn't get better. He had a crown. Like yours. Birthday!"
"Yes, clever little girl. Give me your breadcrumbs."
She darted close, and sat in front on him. Ben was staring at his feet.
"Look at me, funny man!"
Ben sighed. This girl was testing his neurotransmitting hormones, whatever they were. He looked up.
And screamed.
Her eyes were black. Not the black of night, not even the black of evil. This was the black of despair.
"I want your soul, mister!"
--
- IX
"Jenny!" yelled Ben, as he stared down at the blood seeping out from Neb. He stared around him, eyes darting everywhere. All he wanted was a sign...Ben sank to his knees, sobbing. Where was she? All his life, all he'd wanted was a purpose, something to hold onto. Neb sighed softly. Thin red lines were blossoming across his shirt, spreading faster as the rain hit his chest. Ben stared. That was blood...He reached down, ripping open Neb's shirt.
"Always told yourself there was some of that in you..." muttered Neb, laughing softly. He coughed, blood bubbling through his teeth. Ben gritted his teeth together. Slash marks crossed Neb's chest. He had been sliced open, by something unbelievably viscious. Neb grabbed Ben suddenly, dragging him down to eye level.
"Don't let her do this to you!" he screamed, bellowing the words.
"Who? Jenny? What is she going to do to me? Neb! NEB! WHAT IS Jenny GOING TO DO TO ME!" screamed Ben back, frantically. "Oh God, please don't die. Please don't..." Tears were punching their way out of Ben's eyes now, flowing down his cheeks. Ben wiped a hand over his face, a hand covered in blood. He recoiled as he tasted the salt of the tears mixed with the metallic tang of blood. He looked down as the blood-coated body of Ben, and retched. He threw himself away, rolling violently away from the body. My god, I said body...
He lay back, rivulets of blood spattering his face. Neb was dead. He was dead. What had Jenny done to him? The pressure on his face eased. The rain had stopped. He patted his clothes. They were dry. He laughed, bitterly. Something like this always happened. He laughed again, feeling the malice he had been harbouring inside himself rip itself free, echoing around the bleakness. He had never felt this before. Utter despair.
It was terrifying.
--
Jennys eyes snapped open. The blood had stopped. She grinned.
"All better now."
She vanished.
--
- X
Ben felt a hand caress his cheek. He sighed, and raised his own to touch it.
"Jenny...My god, I missed you."
"Why do you keep saying that?" The voice was unfamiliar. Ben bolted to his feet.
There was a little girl standing several feet away, sitting on his aquamarine chair. Her short blonde hair was held back with a plain back hairband, and she looked as if she were dressed to go to a wedding. Her white satin dress seemed to have lace everywhere. It was almost as if it shone. She was wearing white sandals, with intricate patternwork, and she was holding something in her hand. Ben couldn't see what. She was singing softly, to herself. Ben blinked. A little girl alone in this desert somehow seemed a lot stranger than a gutted fictional character.
"Why do I keep saying what?" The little girl didn't answer. Instead she stared at the sky.
"You're going to face it. You can run all you want. You can even fly. You'll have to face it, and on that day..."
"On what day? What will happen?"
"Why, The Day of Judgement, silly." she laughed, sheer joy in her voice.
"I'm going to be judged? What will happen on that day?"
"On the Day?" she laughed again, and beckoned. Ben looked around him. She beckoned again, and started to skip away. Ben shrugged, and followed. She skipped lightly from foot to foot, somehow avoiding the pools of water, and the heather patches. Ben ran to keep up, panting. She was skipping towards a series of caves, outlined by a dazzlingly tall waterfall. Where did that come from? He'd have been able to see that. The little girl stood framed in one of the cave entrances, beckoning. Ben took a last glance behind him, searching for a sign of Jenny. Things would be better went she got here. They had to be. If he hadn't been concentrating so hard on that, he might have noticed that there were faces in the waterfall.
Screaming faces.
--
Ben clambered into the entrance. Fine sand covered the floor, with a single set of footprints leading the way. He followed. He didn't really think about what he was doing. He didn't know where he was, but what he did know was that he had seen a man die of the most brutal attack he had ever seen. Except there had been no attack. Blood on his hands...Ben had never known blood on his hands before.
"Is this a dagger I see before me?" muttered Ben under his breath. Everywhere in the cave the sound of the little girls laughter. Somehow, that was comforting. He didn't question why. He was taking a lot on faith since this whole thing started.
He turned a corner to see the little girl hopping along a line.
"Can you keep that up?" he asked.
"Never been the issue, Mister."
"It hasn't."
"Think about it." she said, her tongue sticking out as she concentrated on not falling off the line. She flailed her arms to the side wildly.
I know that...
"Once upon a little girl, there was time." She said. "And this time wanted nothing more than to move. It felt this was its purpose. All it wanted was to move. This was all it hoped."
"Hope." Ben snorted mockingly. "Yeah, I've heard about that. Some form of French food, right?"
She smiled. "You're funny, Mister."
"Yeah, I heard that once."
"One day, this time found something. Do you know what that was, Funny Man?"
Ben shrugged. "One of those little umbrellas you put in cocktails? I always get the pink ones. I think someone is trying to tell me something."
"You need a crown, and a throne. A robe, and a golden horn, filling the world with the essence of your name."
"Maybe later."
She stopped hopping. "Isn't that what you always tell yourself? Maybe later? When you die, is it maybe later that you're going to start living?"
"What about life after death?" countered Ben, for the sake of it. This little girl was beginning to scare him.
"You believe."
"I believe in what, exactly? By the way, if you see a wolf dressed in an old persons clothes, I'd advise you to run."
"Oh, I have my crown."
"You're wierd, little White Girl." muttered Ben. He figured there was sense, then no sense, then about fifty feet under that, his sense of mind. He sat against a wall and felt the sand running through his fingers.
"So what do I believe in? Salvation? Communism? Those bags from supermarkets that seem to break exactly when you don't want them to? I hate those."
"You believe that there is someone out there for you. Someone who will hold you, and stroke your hair, and tell you that everything will be fine. And because her voice will fill your soul, you'll know she's right..."
"Shut up." interrupted Ben.
"You'll see her, and you'll love her. You'll know it, immediately, right here." The little girl touched her gut.
"I said be quiet." Ben's voice carried an edge.
"You know." She laughed. "It's happened to you before. You've seen a girl, and you've loved her. Did that break you, Funny Man? Did it?" She skipped closer to him. "Did it hurt the first time you saw her eyes and knew she would never love you back?"
Ben said nothing. The little girl clapped her hands together in delight.
"Oh, this is a fun game." She twirled around in a circle, her dress glowing. "She took your crown, didn't she? She took it and laughed as she placed it on her own head." She looked at him. "Oh yes, she took your crown."
Ben tried to shrug, but he felt if he did move that the tears he was holding back would roll. The little girl patted him on the head gently.
"There, there. Shall I tell the rest of the story?" Her hand was still clenched.
"Only if it has death." snarled Ben. She laughed again, and jumped up and down.
"Oh, that's to come. I can control it, you know. Do you believe me?"
Ben shrugged again. "I'm taking a lot on faith already. Hell, I think if I take any more on faith than my back will break."
"Didn't that already happen?" laughed the girl. "She did that to you. The one with two crowns. Do you hate her? Will you have the one who she choses?"
"What can I say? I'm just a loving person."
"The sand speaks to me, you know. It says things, about the sights it has seen."
"Wonderful. Sand, other sand, a fish, more sand."
"And a beautiful girl, with blood on her. Oh, it's so sad! Will she dance again?"
"What?" Ben leant forward. "What have you seen?"
She winked at him. "Not supposed to tell people things. They might be comforted. I can go around comforting people."
"So what do you do to people? Tell them the time story. That's a great one. Dickens would have swooned."
"Hehe, you silly, don't lie."
"Yeah, you're right. Dickens was a tart. Now tell me about this girl?"
"No." She stamped her foot petulantly.
"Please?"
"Oh, people say please to me all the time."
"Does it work?" She giggled.
"Oh no, I don't like people to be happy. I like it when they fight. My little pawns, fighting for me. I like it when people fight for me."
I'm not going to fight for you."
"Really? If you fight, I can show you such things as you've never imagined."
"I imagine quite well."
"The hourglass, turning and turning. Funny man!"
"What?"
"Bored now. Can I tell you want I want for my birthday, Mister?"
"The store might be closed."
"It's always closed. People knock on the door and they get no answer. Oh please, Mister! Let me tell you what I want for my birthday!"
"Knock yourself out."
"Someone knocked themselves out for me, once. He didn't get better. He had a crown. Like yours. Birthday!"
"Yes, clever little girl. Give me your breadcrumbs."
She darted close, and sat in front on him. Ben was staring at his feet.
"Look at me, funny man!"
Ben sighed. This girl was testing his neurotransmitting hormones, whatever they were. He looked up.
And screamed.
Her eyes were black. Not the black of night, not even the black of evil. This was the black of despair.
"I want your soul, mister!"
--
- VIII
Jenny was walking along the clifftop. She was aware that it was miles upon miles away from the scene currently playing out between Neb and Ben. That was her power. Imagination is a force that cannot be stopped by anything save yourself. She could use it to create empires, crush mountains and empty seas. At the moment she liked the view though, so she sat on a rock that appeared from nowhere. Jenny liked sitting on rocks, so rocks went out of their way to appear behind her. It was a reflex thing.
She was acutely aware of Neb and Ben. Two balls of essence grouped at the back of her head, burning and freezing in the same instance. It put the word soulmate in a completely different context, for her. She smiled at this. Ben was falling in love with her. With himself. This wasn't a good turn of events, reasoned Jenny. It would be painful, for one thing. But on the other, more consuming hand, she could feel his essence pounding in her head every time she looked at him. Was that love - to be so attuned to someone that you could feel what they wanted and yearned for before they did? She sighed. When people said they loved themselves, they really didn't have a clue.
Then lightning coursed through her brain, a scream tearing itself unbridled from her lips. The stone dissapated in an instant, sending her sprawling on the ground. She clawed at her temples with elegant fingernails, trying to rip the pain out.
Then it stopped. She lay there, gasping for breath. She could feel a trickle of warm blood down her face. Something was different...
Ben and Neb were fainter. She couldn't feel their essence bathing her thoughts. They were still there, but distant, subdued.
Then she noticed something else. Lines on her arm were appearing. She raised her eyebrows quizically. They grew stronger and stronger, and Jenny felt a few twinges of pain. She could feel a sense of apprehension growing in her. Even fear. She'd only felt that once before. Oh no..
The lines burst open as jagged glass lanced upwards through them, spraying a fine coating of blood onto Jenny's dress. She screamed again, the pain seeming so much real. It occupied all of her thoughts, driving even the faint aura that was her other selfs away. She sobbed as blood coursed down her arm and stained the grass russet. The last thought in her head before her eyes rolled back into them was of how beautiful this was. She was right. It was paradise.
Then she fainted.
Jenny was walking along the clifftop. She was aware that it was miles upon miles away from the scene currently playing out between Neb and Ben. That was her power. Imagination is a force that cannot be stopped by anything save yourself. She could use it to create empires, crush mountains and empty seas. At the moment she liked the view though, so she sat on a rock that appeared from nowhere. Jenny liked sitting on rocks, so rocks went out of their way to appear behind her. It was a reflex thing.
She was acutely aware of Neb and Ben. Two balls of essence grouped at the back of her head, burning and freezing in the same instance. It put the word soulmate in a completely different context, for her. She smiled at this. Ben was falling in love with her. With himself. This wasn't a good turn of events, reasoned Jenny. It would be painful, for one thing. But on the other, more consuming hand, she could feel his essence pounding in her head every time she looked at him. Was that love - to be so attuned to someone that you could feel what they wanted and yearned for before they did? She sighed. When people said they loved themselves, they really didn't have a clue.
Then lightning coursed through her brain, a scream tearing itself unbridled from her lips. The stone dissapated in an instant, sending her sprawling on the ground. She clawed at her temples with elegant fingernails, trying to rip the pain out.
Then it stopped. She lay there, gasping for breath. She could feel a trickle of warm blood down her face. Something was different...
Ben and Neb were fainter. She couldn't feel their essence bathing her thoughts. They were still there, but distant, subdued.
Then she noticed something else. Lines on her arm were appearing. She raised her eyebrows quizically. They grew stronger and stronger, and Jenny felt a few twinges of pain. She could feel a sense of apprehension growing in her. Even fear. She'd only felt that once before. Oh no..
The lines burst open as jagged glass lanced upwards through them, spraying a fine coating of blood onto Jenny's dress. She screamed again, the pain seeming so much real. It occupied all of her thoughts, driving even the faint aura that was her other selfs away. She sobbed as blood coursed down her arm and stained the grass russet. The last thought in her head before her eyes rolled back into them was of how beautiful this was. She was right. It was paradise.
Then she fainted.
- VII
Ben was sauntering along, a dreamy look on his face. He was in love, and sure of it. The fact that she claimed to be him didn't bother him at this point.
"It really should, you know." said Neb, who was sulking.
"Mm."
"I mean, you've got no future with her."
"Mm."
"You KNOW that this won't work, right?"
"Mm."
Ben realised he did know this. It didn't matter. What did matter was where she was. A lot. He realised a lack of Neb at his side. He turned around, and Neb was looking in shock at him.
"What?" asked Ben, not really caring.
"I can't feel you..." whispered Neb, as if in shock. Colour was draining from his face.
"And I'm glad, mate. Listen, I've been meaning to talk to you about this whole "gay" issue you've got going..."
"No...I can't feel what you know..." said Neb, again in the same hoarse whisper. Ben stopped in mid-sentence.
"What I know?"
Neb smiled weakly, and looked down at his arm. Pieces of glass were shimmering into existence. Neb cried out softly, and Ben could see his suit arm dampening. With blood.
"Thought I could hold it off...Jenny couldn't, she hasn't got the knowledge..Help you.." muttered Neb, and he collapsed backwards.
"JENNY!" yelled Ben, sprinting back to Neb. He ripped the jacket sleeve off, and gulped. Blood was running freely down Neb's punctured arm. Neb appeared to be trying to say something. Ben leant closer. He could just about hear Neb...
"Question..not why..but when..becoming more seperate..me, not you..."
Then he fainted.
Ben was sauntering along, a dreamy look on his face. He was in love, and sure of it. The fact that she claimed to be him didn't bother him at this point.
"It really should, you know." said Neb, who was sulking.
"Mm."
"I mean, you've got no future with her."
"Mm."
"You KNOW that this won't work, right?"
"Mm."
Ben realised he did know this. It didn't matter. What did matter was where she was. A lot. He realised a lack of Neb at his side. He turned around, and Neb was looking in shock at him.
"What?" asked Ben, not really caring.
"I can't feel you..." whispered Neb, as if in shock. Colour was draining from his face.
"And I'm glad, mate. Listen, I've been meaning to talk to you about this whole "gay" issue you've got going..."
"No...I can't feel what you know..." said Neb, again in the same hoarse whisper. Ben stopped in mid-sentence.
"What I know?"
Neb smiled weakly, and looked down at his arm. Pieces of glass were shimmering into existence. Neb cried out softly, and Ben could see his suit arm dampening. With blood.
"Thought I could hold it off...Jenny couldn't, she hasn't got the knowledge..Help you.." muttered Neb, and he collapsed backwards.
"JENNY!" yelled Ben, sprinting back to Neb. He ripped the jacket sleeve off, and gulped. Blood was running freely down Neb's punctured arm. Neb appeared to be trying to say something. Ben leant closer. He could just about hear Neb...
"Question..not why..but when..becoming more seperate..me, not you..."
Then he fainted.
- VI
The world was round and filled with light.
If I were religious, thought Ben. Not really if anything, just "if." The thought hung about for a bit before Ben moved his head and thinking about pain became the only option really available. This thought quickly became replaced by another thought. He seemed to constantly be placed in life-threatening situations, and never lose his life. All he got was pain. So, he theorised, thought following thought in an ever-increasing rage of activity, if he imagined there to be no pain, it would stop altogether. He tried this, grin tugging at his lips.
"Oooh, and you were so close!" yelled a voice from the round light world. It could have been an angel, or even Jenny. Ben secretly suspected these two were the same thing. Unfortunately, it was Neb.
"So close to what, exactly?" mumered Ben. He never had to speak up for Neb to hear him, and that wasn't an option with the angry brain cells hammering at the more peacefully inclined cells. His pain hurt, if that was even possible.
"You almost had the traingle lined up, but then you sent it into the wrong hole. Sorry mate."
"You wouldn't have a spade, by any chance?" whispered Ben, and looked around him. He seemed to be in a natural cave formation. This was, and bear in mind he'd been stuck on a moor for what seemed like forever, a good development.
"What was that?" yelled Neb.
Ben grasped at the sides of the hole he'd fallen through, and suceeded in dislodging a clod of loose earth right onto his face. Brilliant. Then more earth showered down, and Neb landed lightly next to him, brushing soil off his suit. He didn't look pleased with the new choice of surroundings.
"Why couldn't you have fallen into a tasteful tailor, eh? No imagination, that's your problem."
"Hey, I've got imagination. She even looks good naked. Probably." added Ben hurridely.
Neb arched an eyebrow. "Imagining yourself naked is probably a form of incest."
"Yeah, but last time I checked I wasn't 32D." muttered Ben, and shoved himself onto his feet. It would be nice to say the walls were clad with flaming torches that led the way. Ben didn't have flaming torches. He had damp soil, and a moaning git in a suit.
"I vote we get back out of this hole." said Neb, and grabbed at the walls. He fells backwards. "Ow. B***h."
Ben sighed and nodded. "Probably the best idea. Besides, all I'm going to find at the end of these tunnels is another cyptical mystery-ridden monkey, or something. Or you'll pump some new stuff into me. I mean, come on Neb! Sexuality?"
Neb grinned slightly. "Well, you know. Every bloke should experiment."
"With science. Please say you were thinking about chemicals and the like."
"Were you?" Neb's eyes were twinking.
"Shut up." muttered Ben, and looked up at the top of the hole. How was he going to get out of there. All he needed to do was apply his mind to the situation. And ignore Neb's spirited attempts at prodding the wall with a stick he'd found from somewhere. Apply his mind...
"You called?" A face was siloetted against the glare of the sun. It was Jenny. Ben felt his heart quicken at the sound of her voice.
"Jenny! Get me out of here. Now." yelled Neb.
"Can't you, like, magic yourself out of here?" asked Ben, interested.
"Magic doesn't exist, you ponce."
"Fair enough. Then how did you stop time?"
"Eh?"
"When I was hit by the car?" inquired Ben, encouragingly.
Neb grinned, and Ben could make out the sound of Jenny's laugh. Then Neb slapped his hands together and pulled them apart gently. A shimmering halo of silver was visible between them. And then it changed, coalescing into the lane outside Ben's house. He saw the car roaring along it, and he saw himself dash suddenly out of the side gate, right into the path of the car. He'd already been through it once, but he still winced at the impact. Legs shouldn't be bent at that angle.
Neb was looking at him, grinning. "Stop time...you really are a soppy git. When would that happen?"
Then he vanished, and appeared at the top of the hole.
"Stop being mean." scolded Jenny. "Ben, do you want to get out?" As his eyes adjusted, he could make out her dazzling smile.
"Yes. Yes I do." And he meant it.
"All you have to do is use me." He voice was oddly soothing.
Ben laughed again. "You know, I really wish I knew what you meant."
"Would it help if I was naked?"
"It'd help me." said Neb. Jenny smiled playfully at him.
Ben gulped. "Just get me out of here."
"You sure you don't want me naked?"
"He just wants you ...Ow.." Neb had got Jenny's elbow in his stomach, and doubling over, moaning softly.
"Come on Ben...just imagine yourself at the top of the hole, and use me. Just, please, use me." She smiled encouragingly.
"If only normal girls were this forward with me." muttered Ben, and closed his eyes.
This is stupid. Imagine myself at the top of the hole. Fine. He did so, picturing the image painted on his eyelids. This faded to an image of Jenny, and then...it happened. Ben felt the world sort of melt away, and he floated. Jenny stood before him, arms looped loosely around his neck. He could feel her breath on his cheek as she leant in close to him, her mouth touching his ear. You're doing it. He felt rather than heard her voice. He looked into her eyes. And she looked back at him, smiling lovingly. Later, Ben remembered only one part as if it were set in crystal.
They danced together to the music of his mind.
Then it snapped, leaving a high-pitched squeal on his eyes. And he found himself sprawling on the dew-soaked heather, Jenny next to him. She looked at him, and he looked at her. Then the shadow of Neb appeared.
"Was it good for you too?"
--
The world was round and filled with light.
If I were religious, thought Ben. Not really if anything, just "if." The thought hung about for a bit before Ben moved his head and thinking about pain became the only option really available. This thought quickly became replaced by another thought. He seemed to constantly be placed in life-threatening situations, and never lose his life. All he got was pain. So, he theorised, thought following thought in an ever-increasing rage of activity, if he imagined there to be no pain, it would stop altogether. He tried this, grin tugging at his lips.
"Oooh, and you were so close!" yelled a voice from the round light world. It could have been an angel, or even Jenny. Ben secretly suspected these two were the same thing. Unfortunately, it was Neb.
"So close to what, exactly?" mumered Ben. He never had to speak up for Neb to hear him, and that wasn't an option with the angry brain cells hammering at the more peacefully inclined cells. His pain hurt, if that was even possible.
"You almost had the traingle lined up, but then you sent it into the wrong hole. Sorry mate."
"You wouldn't have a spade, by any chance?" whispered Ben, and looked around him. He seemed to be in a natural cave formation. This was, and bear in mind he'd been stuck on a moor for what seemed like forever, a good development.
"What was that?" yelled Neb.
Ben grasped at the sides of the hole he'd fallen through, and suceeded in dislodging a clod of loose earth right onto his face. Brilliant. Then more earth showered down, and Neb landed lightly next to him, brushing soil off his suit. He didn't look pleased with the new choice of surroundings.
"Why couldn't you have fallen into a tasteful tailor, eh? No imagination, that's your problem."
"Hey, I've got imagination. She even looks good naked. Probably." added Ben hurridely.
Neb arched an eyebrow. "Imagining yourself naked is probably a form of incest."
"Yeah, but last time I checked I wasn't 32D." muttered Ben, and shoved himself onto his feet. It would be nice to say the walls were clad with flaming torches that led the way. Ben didn't have flaming torches. He had damp soil, and a moaning git in a suit.
"I vote we get back out of this hole." said Neb, and grabbed at the walls. He fells backwards. "Ow. B***h."
Ben sighed and nodded. "Probably the best idea. Besides, all I'm going to find at the end of these tunnels is another cyptical mystery-ridden monkey, or something. Or you'll pump some new stuff into me. I mean, come on Neb! Sexuality?"
Neb grinned slightly. "Well, you know. Every bloke should experiment."
"With science. Please say you were thinking about chemicals and the like."
"Were you?" Neb's eyes were twinking.
"Shut up." muttered Ben, and looked up at the top of the hole. How was he going to get out of there. All he needed to do was apply his mind to the situation. And ignore Neb's spirited attempts at prodding the wall with a stick he'd found from somewhere. Apply his mind...
"You called?" A face was siloetted against the glare of the sun. It was Jenny. Ben felt his heart quicken at the sound of her voice.
"Jenny! Get me out of here. Now." yelled Neb.
"Can't you, like, magic yourself out of here?" asked Ben, interested.
"Magic doesn't exist, you ponce."
"Fair enough. Then how did you stop time?"
"Eh?"
"When I was hit by the car?" inquired Ben, encouragingly.
Neb grinned, and Ben could make out the sound of Jenny's laugh. Then Neb slapped his hands together and pulled them apart gently. A shimmering halo of silver was visible between them. And then it changed, coalescing into the lane outside Ben's house. He saw the car roaring along it, and he saw himself dash suddenly out of the side gate, right into the path of the car. He'd already been through it once, but he still winced at the impact. Legs shouldn't be bent at that angle.
Neb was looking at him, grinning. "Stop time...you really are a soppy git. When would that happen?"
Then he vanished, and appeared at the top of the hole.
"Stop being mean." scolded Jenny. "Ben, do you want to get out?" As his eyes adjusted, he could make out her dazzling smile.
"Yes. Yes I do." And he meant it.
"All you have to do is use me." He voice was oddly soothing.
Ben laughed again. "You know, I really wish I knew what you meant."
"Would it help if I was naked?"
"It'd help me." said Neb. Jenny smiled playfully at him.
Ben gulped. "Just get me out of here."
"You sure you don't want me naked?"
"He just wants you ...Ow.." Neb had got Jenny's elbow in his stomach, and doubling over, moaning softly.
"Come on Ben...just imagine yourself at the top of the hole, and use me. Just, please, use me." She smiled encouragingly.
"If only normal girls were this forward with me." muttered Ben, and closed his eyes.
This is stupid. Imagine myself at the top of the hole. Fine. He did so, picturing the image painted on his eyelids. This faded to an image of Jenny, and then...it happened. Ben felt the world sort of melt away, and he floated. Jenny stood before him, arms looped loosely around his neck. He could feel her breath on his cheek as she leant in close to him, her mouth touching his ear. You're doing it. He felt rather than heard her voice. He looked into her eyes. And she looked back at him, smiling lovingly. Later, Ben remembered only one part as if it were set in crystal.
They danced together to the music of his mind.
Then it snapped, leaving a high-pitched squeal on his eyes. And he found himself sprawling on the dew-soaked heather, Jenny next to him. She looked at him, and he looked at her. Then the shadow of Neb appeared.
"Was it good for you too?"
--
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