she could see the street outside the kitchen window and she saw what wasn’t there
The Sunwitch’s face shone and laughed a wicked laugh
but her scream was always silent in nightmare real or fake
Once upon a time there lived a child who lived inside a yellow house with neat hedges and an iron door
that as soon as you walked behind, it was another world
On this side of the doorway the mailman didn’t go
On this side lived the man with the wooden valet which displayed his prized leather belts
Everything was different on this side of the door and the walls caved and warped
There were two mothers who stood in the same body
One wore the pretty yellow dress and smelled like sunshine, the other shook the child and told the child she wished she’d never been born, her nails scratching
then left the child in scorn
One day the child found a doorway to go through and came upon other places and other realities
This was where she hid the real story
In this place she found a pen that was a magic wand and all she had to do was write a dream and go walk right into it
one day she never left
she left a secret pathway back behind hidden in riddles, but one day something blew away all the riddles and they got scattered everywhere leaving lost the pathway back. sometimes it bothered her. sometimes she was glad she would never have to go back
If you bang your head hard enough you could still hear her voice. sometimes it was necessary to know she still existed. because without her it could not feed the magic into the wand
some betrayals are worse than others
“What happened to you that day?” Jörn asks me as I am still sat stunned and dripping by the writing desk in front of his laptop ....still staring at Nigel’s email
He puts a towel around me and the gesture takes me back to the pirate on the boat and it makes me stare at him
“What?” I ask because his voice sounds far away
“What you said....It was not clear,” he kneels down to me to look at me
“What —I’m sorry—not....?”
“Which time did you disassociate?” he asks
The metallic taste is in my mouth and I shake my head, “Jörn....”
“Because it sounded like you confused the two incidents—the belting and —the assault.”
I think about his question but I’m somewhere else. I want to answer him only
there is the need to lean against the wall inside
and
if I let him in
..... only
we need this wall. it’s absolute. no compromises.
not ever, there was another way once
and I consider my words to him carefully
“Is that your word for it?” I ask him “Maybe both,” I say
“What would be your word?” he asks
“dictionary,” I say
But he pulls my face up to him and forces me to look into his eyes. He stares in there. I watch what I see reflected inside his blue prisms as they laser through me, probing and tripping past; unfairly he trips past
“I think you saw something you shouldn’t have,” he says this gently and waits as he watches the meaning unfold in me
“His desk.” I say because it triggers it “He kept papers and I would ....play with his answering machine....”
The vampire eyes with their den inside throws its cape around .... hides
“You read something. You saw things, didn’t you?”
and holds me back from the edge.
I have begun to realize he sees things I have missed....
The dictionary
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