From: corleyj@helium.gas.uug.arizona.edu (Jason D Corley ) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Pitzar] The Road, reversed Date: 19 Oct 1993 03:38:58 GMT Message-ID: <29vngi$qp3@organpipe.uug.arizona.edu> The next thing I remembered, I was walking quickly through a wide, grassy field under a glaring white moon. My shadow stretched out in front of me, swivelling slowly across the even field. I felt a tiny, cool hand in mine, and heard scampering footsteps next to me, but I couldn't turn my head to look. I realized my eyes were dry and painful, so I closed them, and felt cool relief suddenly come. I had been hundreds of miles from Generica, but when I opened my eyes again, I was seeing the sun rise over the northern docks as we moved towards the gates of the city. I looked down at the imp by my side, inscrutable. There was a cloth tied tightly around my left hand, and the imp held onto my fingers loosely. I turned to my right hand and saw the quill pen, it's metal tip still clogged with my flesh and stained with my blood. I let it fall to the packed earth of the road. It fluttered, and turned, and then lay in the dust. I looked up at the arched gates of the city, and knew that it wasn't home. It wasn't home. I wasn't home. Two crows sat on the city wall. As we approached, they flew. Craos. Craos. Lost. Lost. I was led gently to the door of the Examiner Building, the imps and the newsboys trickling in and out in the coming dawn. Inside, Old Man Heartwell said something to me, looked at me. He looked at the imp, too. I opened my mouth to say something, but I couldn't, so I closed it again. I looked around to see something, but there was nothing to see, so I closed them, too. I tried to think of something, but there was nothing to think, so I stopped. Somewhere, hands were leading me to a couch with thin cushions and an old smell. And one by one, the visitors came and spoke to me, one by one, their voices flowed up into my ears and filled my head. -- ************************************************************************ "You fall out of your mother's womb, you crawl across open country under fire, and drop into your grave."-----------Quentin Crisp Jason "corley@gas.uug.arizona.edu" Corley could be, but probably isn't.