Читать книгу Oracle in the Mist - Linda Maree Malcolm - Страница 7

Intuition told Bobby that she should wake up as there was something going on that she should know about. She sat up in her bed and listened — yes there it was, beautiful music that seemed a great distance away. Who would be playing music at this time of the night? Certainly not her mother who was probably asleep in her own bedroom, just down the hall.

Bobby did not feel frightened as she threw back her quilt to go and investigate. It was extreme curiosity that drove her and as she tiptoed down the hall she noticed that the music was becoming louder:

“We come, softly through the night, as evening falls behind us. Our footsteps leave no mark upon the snow.

Let your spirit go it will find us.”

Bobby descended the stairs and walked into the kitchen, listening for the melodious singing again. It had become far away again and she realised that she had somehow taken the wrong direction:

“We come adorned in spider web and dew, through woodland to the meadow. We come luminous and bright, dancing with the light and the shadow.

“The summer moon is calling us to play, a sacred light to guide us. The wild music leads us in a trance, spinning to the dances inside us.”

Bobby climbed the stairs again and holding onto the old banister looked around her. This didn’t make any sense. She could hear the singing, it was all around her and yet it seemed to be coming from nowhere. She went to the bathroom and noticed that the sounds became closer:

“The air is warm and echoes with the sound of laughter rising higher.

With drums and bells we sing into the night dancing in the light of the fire.”

She looked above her and the realisation dawned on her. It wasn’t in her home at all. Or at least not on this level or the one below. It was in the attic. It had to be — there was no other explanation. Bobby suddenly remembered that there was a pulldown ladder from the attic in the walkin linen press which was located right next to the bathroom. She tiptoed quietly into that room so as not to wake her mother and, without turning on the light, felt about above her for the string that would pull the attic ladder down. There it was. She gave it a gentle tug but it didn’t move. It was quite stuck and the thought occurred to Bobby that it had not been used in some time. She ignored her logical side asking the question, how did whoever is in the attic get in? This was no time for logic.

She used all of her strength to pull at the string and just when she thought it would never budge, it came open, just a crack at first pouring years of dust and goodness knows what else onto her upturned face and into her eyes, nose and open mouth. While she brushed and wiped at herself Bobby became aware of two things. The light that now emanated from the crack in the ceiling was almost as bright if not brighter than ordinary daylight. The singing and music was very close now and she had been correct in her assumption that it was from the attic:

“We weave a music curiously pure, a crystal song suspended.

We fly on wings diaphanous as light, dancing till the long night is ended.”

Even if Bobby was afraid, which she wasn’t, to see what was above her, there was no way she could resist the magnetic pull of the music. She had become completely entranced by it. The leading voice was the richest and purest she had ever heard.

“We come, ancient as the moon, as new as every season.

We come as fire as icicle and leaf; suspend your disbelief and your reason.”

Bobby pulled at the ladder which became straightened out in one smooth action. Quietly climbing the rickety stairs she took a deep breath to prepare herself for what she might see above her. As her head entered the blinding light emanating from the attic, Bobby squinted to adjust her vision. She gripped the top rung tightly and just in time too because what she saw took her breath away to the point of making her almost topple back down the ladder. In the centre of the enormous attic was what at first glance seemed to be a massive bonfire that stretched at least three metres high. So this was what was creating the light in the room.

But even more astonishing than that was what Bobby saw either dancing or relaxing around the light. It was impossible; it couldn’t be true! Dozens of tiny incandescent beings, all with long lustrous hair and floating garments, some with wings and some without but nevertheless all flying about and also frequently stopping to dance with one another; a dance that was simple enough but seemed to somehow have them all laughing in unison. Their laughter was the loveliest of sounds and right then and there Bobby decided that a sound such as that could only come from fairy creatures, of which she had read but never before actually seen.

Then another sight leapt before her eyes. On the floor were many other types of beings that Bobby supposed would be referred to as elves, all with long pointed ears. There were also leprechauns, pixies and brownies. Some were playing instruments, some were dancing. Others were making shoes with tiny steel hammers and still others were talking with one another or singing or simply watching and laughing to themselves. But the grandest of all of the creatures were the tall forest elves. Clothed in only leaves and twigs sewn together and with golden hair streaming down their backs and reaching to their knees, these elves were involved in a more formal kind of dance. Half of them male and half female, they held hands with one another in a circle around the fire. Then the men would drop their left hands and the women their right hands and the men would lead the women under their arms. Then, holding their joined hands to their faces would step in a most dramatic fashion, circling around each other. They would then swap hands and circle the fire and every so often drop hands and then change partners. The men would give a slight bow and the women a little curtsy.

It was only now that Bobby noticed that these elven creatures were so unreal as to be almost transparent and indeed she suddenly realised that each of them was completely hollow in the back, just like a hollowed out tree. Another character caught her eye. He was very small, only about one and a half metres tall and had curly ginger hair with a matching beard. He wore green clothes that were quite ragged and on his head he wore a red cap. He looked halfstarved and overworked and he stared at Bobby and then smiled at her and gestured for her to come into the circle. Bobby thought it odd that he was the only one that had noticed her so far. Would the others notice her if she stepped forward? She walked toward the fire, feeling quite magical and mythical also, her long white cotton and lace nightgown billowing out behind her. She thought she would like to dance and sing as well and wondered if she were under some kind of enchantment. All thoughts of the real world, her mother and moving house, had completely vanished from her mind. Right then all of the singing, dancing and flying about came to an abrupt halt. It was replaced with screams of terror and with the blink of an eye the whole party had vanished, a long thin stream of light exiting through the window.

“Don’t go, please come back. I won’t hurt you!” Bobby called out but it was too late and before she knew it she found herself in the middle of an ancient and massive attic, all alone except for the forgotten furniture and piles of dust. Bobby awoke with a start. She sat up in bed and noticed that she was pulling at her own collar. She stared around her to try and get her bearings. Yes, that’s right — new room, new house, new town. But there was something else on the edge of her memory; what was it …

Oh yes, she remembered now, a magical place full of beautiful music and strange elemental creatures. But where was it? She tried to remember for a moment but then heard her mother calling her name from down the hall. It was just a dream, anyway, she thought to herself. And dreams usually meant nothing at all.

She bounced out of bed feeling quite light and excited, although she had no idea why. She bounded into the kitchen to greet her mother and they chatted away about what was coming up for them for the day. Her mother asked her to get a tablecloth that was kept in the linen press. As soon as Bobby opened the door of the walkin cupboard she remembered her dream from the previous night.

A fairy dance in her attic, that’s right. She looked up and sure enough there was the string to pull the ladder down just like in her dream. But it was only a dream, she told herself. Stuff like that did not happen in real life, did it? Still, she thought to herself, later, when her mother was doing the reading for a client she would come back to the linen press, pull down the ladder and explore the attic.