He woke up with a strangled cry. He was in a dark room. The sheets under his hands were ice cold and sweat stood out on his forehead. That dream! Oh gods! He struggled to free himself from the knotted blankets and stood up. The floor was cold tiles. He looked around in the darkness for some way out, any way. He didn�t know where he was. There was a light at the far end of the room, a door? It lead into a long, dimly lit, hallway lined with more doors. The place was like a hospital. He walked down the hall, as if in a dream. Some doors were barred, with small grilled windows. Others were slightly ajar, empty? Some had light behind them and voices, talking to themselves, speaking gibberish or
another language. He walked on, in this dream. The sun shone through the dusty leaves of the oak trees, landing in patterns on the hood of the blue van. It was a old van, with heavy doors and rough rubber seats, across it�s side had once been written St. Micheals School but it had been panted over. The left front window didn�t roll down all the way and the whole thing smelled of powdered seat stuffing, latex paint, rust and plastic. It was the kind of van one could get quite attached to.
Message from the Author
In theatre you really kiss, there's no way to do it with mirrors or special effects. But none of that business with tonques in the mouth, right? Well, speak for yourself.
© 1997 [email protected]
There was a door at the very end of the hall. He opened it, still in the unreal daze and came face to face with a man. He stopped, like a deer in headlights. The man did nothing. There was a door behind the him, leading out onto another hall. A woman came in, Wearing some kind of nurses uniform, carrying a small pile of folded linens. She stopped, staring at him.
Suddenly it was real again and even more frightening. He looked at himself, in the mirror. The woman lay down her bundle and took a careful step forward. He didn�t move, staring at the unfamiliar man before him. He was fully clothed, with loose curly blond hair, a round boyish face and a thin, almost lip less, mouth. He raised a shaking hand to wipe sweat out of his eyes.
"W-who am I?" His voice had a whispering rasp to it and a clean accent that he hadn�t expected. The woman looked worried, she came closer laying a hand on his sleeve.
"Who am I?" He asked again.
"Deron McCassy." she said.
"Who?"
"Your name�s Deron. You�re an actor."
"An actor. Where is this?"
"You came here yesterday. This is Chender mental hospital. You�re alright, really. Please..."
"Chender...Why? Who brought me here?"
"Your friend. Chrisa. Remember?!"
"No!" He had no world, no memory, except that dream. "I can�t remember
anything!" He was desperate, lost. He didn�t have any friends, he didn�t have anyone. He sank to his knees, hiding his face in his hands. She knelt down beside him.
"Deron," she said, "You�re Deron McCassy. You�re an actor from Fleice. REMEMBER! Please!"
"I can�t."br>
"I don�t know you! Please, I can�t do this on my own! I just work here!"
"I can�t!"
"DERON! What�s the last thing you can remember?"
He tried to think. "Nothing! I can�t remember anything!"
She took him by the shoulders and forced him to look at her. "Deron! Do you remember that?! Your name? It�s Deron McCassy! Remember man!"
"My name�s Deron."
"You�re playing the prince. One of the tragedies. Remember!"
He struggled for a thought, " �...never shall with arms encumbered thus... or head shake..."
She smiled "Do you remember? Where? Think gods damn you!"
"C-Clalger square. Rehearsing?"
"Rehearsing."
"I�m Deron McCassy, I was rehearsing an old tragedy in Clager square. Sunday. It was dark. Something happened."
The woman smiled "Listen, you�ll be alright. Just get some rest."
"Thank you." He rubbed his hand across his forehead again. All right. Maybe, in a few days. Everything was going to be normal.
Blue Van
Laughter could be heard among the park trees. Three people walked over
to the van and perched on it�s hood. Two men and a woman. The older man was tall, with a large nose and longish black hair. His voice was deep and lmost fake sounding.
The sun lit the small forest with the dusky glow of late afternoon and voices were heard again. Two figures, a man and a woman were waltzing among the trees. The man was dressed in black with a white silk cravat. He had a round boyish face that put one in mind of a rabbit of a fish and his arms seemed too long for his body. The woman was in a elegant ball gown. Her hair was long and done up in such a fashion as to curl around her high cheakboned face in the most fetching manner.
"We were not made to grow. Not us." The man said.
"We and what else?" The woman asked.
"Why we and kings. And peanuts."
"Then what shall we do?"
"Do have some red air my dear."
"Red air?"
"Why yes, red air."
"I will have none of your red air!" The woman spun, fetching the man a smart slap on the cheek.
"Oh Anjelica! You have struck me to the quick! I am drowning!" The man�s expression took on one of terrified expectation.
"Would you like any of your red air?"
"Oh yes please!"
"Well I shall not give it too you then..."
And they were gone as well. The chirping of insects in the grass was the only sound for a while. A butterfly landed on the van only to be scared away by the next arrival. A woman in a skin tight tiger costume did a fantastic double cartwheel and bounced up onto the roof of the van, to bask in the sun. She was followed by a small blond girl in the same type of costume.
"So." The girl said.
"So?" the tiger woman played with the tail of her costume.
"What will we do?" asked the girl.
"We�ll do what we can." Replied the woman.
"Can we do that?" The girl climbed onto the hood of the van.
"Of course we can." The woman laughed.
"It�ll be easy!" The girl smiled.
"No it wont."
The girl looked rather crestfallen "Then what�ll it be?"
"Hard." The woman grinned.
"Hard?"
"Difficult."
"Difficult?!"
"Tough."
The girl shook her head. "We can�t do that."
"So." The woman said.
"So?" the girl asked.
"What�ll we do?"
"We�ll do what we can."
"Can we do that?"
And their looping diologe disappeared into forest. A bird chirped. Then burst into song. A young woman in a plain peach coloured dress wandered over to the van, talking to herself.
"My name is Missy." She said to no one in particular "But around here I�m just known as the miller�s daughter. My father runs the mill that turns wheat into flower. Maybe you know him. Big man, jolly, loves to tell stories. Especially about me. �My daughter, best cook in the world! Why she can weave silk out of sawdust and spin straw into gold...� Straw into gold? Can you believe what a fibber he is? That last one�s the one that really got us in trouble..." She wandered away again, still talking to herself.
Silence again for a while. Then a great whooping shout as a plump young
woman with a false donkey head charged over to the van and leaped onto
the hood. She did one ballerina spin and hoped up on the roof.
"I see their knavery:" She proclaimed to the small flock of birds that had gathered over the van to watch the proceedings. "this is to make an ass of me; to frighten me, if they could. But I will not stir from this place, do what they can:" She bounded off the van and started to pace around it "I will walk up and down here, and I will sing, that they shall hear I�m not afraid." She burst into rusty song and galloped away in to the trees.
The birds looked at each other, a few braved to alight on the ground around the van and scratch at the crumbs from the hamburger. They were soon frighted into flight by another pair of women. The first was tall and thin, she was wearing overalls and had her hair in two pigtails. Her nose was turned up slightly and her face was covered with freckles. The second woman was small and gawky, her hair was bleach blonde streaked with pink. She was wearing a knee-leaghth fish-scale glittering dress.
Her face was smeared with soot and her entire demeanor was one of confused fascination. They both wandered over to the van, the first woman seemed to be looking for something.
"I�ve lost my weasel." She said sadly "I don�t know where he�s gone."
"Wow." The second woman leaned on the van door, gazing blankly into
space.
"He had a name." The first woman said, looking under the van "I called him Alfred. It�s a good name for a weasel."
"Yeah."
"I think he might have gone to Ohio. I had a pet rock that I gave my friend and she moved to Ohio."
"Really?"
"Yes. And my pet monkey. He went to Ohio."
"Cool."
They both wandered off again, still looking for the weasel. The grass buzzed with life. And the sun warmed the dusty trees. Two more women came out of the trees. They were wearing matching T-shirts with the legend "Rue Eddy!� on them and they each held a sign with the same phrase.
"Rue Eddy!!" The shorter of the two shouted.
"Rue Eddy!!!!" The other agreed.
They propped a sign up in the window of the van and went on their way, shouting into the trees. A squirrel hoped tetitively over and sniffed the sign. A lone figure wandered over and sat on the hood of the van. It was a heavyset man with thin lips and short black hair. He sighed and started to fold a dollar bill into a ring, without much enthusiasm. The sun glinted on a fair regalia of rings and necklaces. A voice was heard among the trees, chattering away to its self. The man jumped and tried to hide behind the van. A short woman with dark eyelashes and a ugly duckling face walked purposely into the glade. She caught sight of the man and went at him with killing passion. They chased around the van a few times and then were gone as well, off into the forest.
Another short while of silence, another bird attempted song. Two young women walked over to the van. They were both dressed like they didn�t care what anyone thought, torn jeans, patched shirts. The smaller of the two had auburn hair, a square face and a strong nose. The taller was more pointed, with greasy blackish hair and a worried, apologetic, and rather trapped look.
"So I had to get three teeth pulled." The taller woman said. "I have this real terror of dentists. It turns my stomach just to think about getting a filling."
"Oh yeah." The smaller woman blanched "I hate that."
"They never get the novicane right. The give you the shot, and that hurts because they haven�t given you a shot yet. Then they say wait a couple of minutes for it to work. And they wait for it to work, and more, so it�s half worn off by the time they drill."
"Yes."
"So I hear from my dentist that I have to get these teeth pulled. And I�m all worried about it and then my friend Jay goes and tells me about when he was fourteen and his teeth weren't coming in straight. He had to get all the teeth on the side out and a brace across it all with wires going up into the teeth that were coming in and ever month he had to go to the dentist and get it tightened so it would pull his teeth in."
"Eww!" The smaller woman said, disgusted.
"It�s like �Thanks Jay! So glad you could tell me that, man!�" And they were gone too. The natural sounds of animals and insects closed in around van again. It was a old van, It was the kind of van one could get quite attached to.
A couple of random memories drifted by, humming slightly. The sign of the door changed to crisp white lettering, �Pennfield School� and everything seemed to change. A small woman and a heavyset man with a shock of curly hair walked out from around the van.
"They grow up so quickly." The woman sighed.
"Yeah."
"When is Rayna graduating?"
"Next month I think."
"Oh my!" They stood there for a while, remembering. "You drive." The woman said.
"Right you are."
And the silence was broken only by the soft sound of thoughts...
Links to other sites on the Web people have been here since May 10, 1998.
Get your own Free Home Page
