Liesel Story
Her beauty exceeds the first rays of sunshine of the first day of spring. The mist rolling off of the hills fell over her shoulders and into her lap where she picked it up with her delicate hand and blew it away.
She sat on a small patch of grass that lie between twin waterfalls, her light blue jeans parting the grass evenly. The light green and white blend shirt she wore was rolled once up her small arm landing just below her shoulder. Her deep brown eyes glistened as a tiny shard of sunlight broke through the surrounding mist.
Her hair was done in a pony tail that came about to her shoulders. She carefully loosed the tiny band that held her hair in place and let the golden brown locks fall to her shoulders.
Her light brown soft mocassins dampened as the mist from the roaring waterfalls arose and clung to them. She touched her toes together as she began to sing.
It began as a soft low sad tune that would break the heart of the most noble and confident. It then slowly, subtly it began to change. From a sad heartwrenching melody to a joyful happy tune that danced and played on the air. There were no words, there didn't have to be. Then a soft ray of sunshine opened in front of her. It broadened as the sun cut through the mist signifying that it was full morning.
She stood, still singing, and skipped off through the forest toward home...
His name was Locke. He had eyes of blue and deep brown hair. His light brown thick leather shirt was worn and soft, it had several burned patches at the hems.
His rugged mountain boots tromped through the forest sod as he glanced upward. He was following a small dove as it dodged through the forest's tall pines. He had spotted the dove by his home and followed it for about a mile.
The tiny white bird played and frolicked as it made it's way westward. It seemed to know where it was going and he followed it.
As he was running he felt a tingling wetness about his feet. A rolling mist was covering the mist about him. Something touched his memory but he brushed it aside.
The bird had gone on ahead and he raced to find it. He ran west again with his eyes searching the trees.
Then came a soft thundering ahead. The mist got thicker as he approached the sound. Then all at once the mist opened into a clearing.
Twin waterfalls plunged down upon pointed rocks and created the mist. At where he was the mist crept low upon the ground and then was pulled up to form a dome of mist.
It looked like a mighty King and Queen crystallized in solid glinting diamond in a small roundish room. He remembered, slowly, it was like his dream; twin waterfalls, the mist, but what of the girl. It was only in the dream, he thought, so perfect of a woman could only have been a dream.
But then it came, a soft low tone from above. In his despair he did not realize this significance. But when it hit him, his heart leapt and his eyes were filled with hope and Love.
That song, that tone, that voice! He had heard them before. So beautiful, so sad. He felt his heart sink and his throat swell. All of the past memories and feelings of sadness were multiplied and he felt a tear roll down his cheek.
Then it changed slowly, gradually until it leapt into the realm of happiness and Love. As this happened the mist cleared above.
The girl of his dreams was radiant with the full beam of light on her. She was singing in a strong but beautiful voice.
No words did she sing, pure emotion That emotion came to him as he felt his knees go weak and collapse onto the soft wet earth on which he stood.
Then she smiled. Then she leapt up and skipped westward through the forest.
He bowed his head and wept bitterly.
He did not notice the two doves flying off through the mist...
He awoke. He was shivering yet warm in a way.
When he tried to move, he couldn't. He had no strength nor desire to move. He tried to remember where he was, but he couldn't recall.
Cold liquid splashed against his hot brow. He was sick. He began to feel numb, all over. He was dazed, confused. Then pain, sharp pain.
He knew that he had to move. He struggled, slipped. He tried again to no avail. He ached all over.
He began to cry, weep, then to wail out loud. He was screaming. His eyes were full of tears but he saw two blurred figures in white robes standing before him.
He slid using all of his strength until he could reach the first. But as he touched it his hand grew numb and it felt as though he was reaching through it.
"Help me!" he cried.
But there was no reply.
"Help-" but he could not finish as his strength left him and he lapsed into unconsciousness.
The next thing he knew were soft blankets. His eyes wouldn't open and he ached everywhere. He groaned. It was very warm and there was no numbness. But he could not feel his right hand.
He tried to sit up but the world whirled about him and he fainted.
When he awoke the next time he heard a soft humming and the crackling of a fire. This time when he tried to open his eyes they opened a crack and he saw a dark brown ceiling dancing orange and white.
He turned his head to one side. It hurt and he groaned. He saw a small form huddled by the fire. The form had long hair so he suspected it was a girl.
When she heard him groan she turned and faced him. Then she arose and walked to him.
"So you've finally awoke," she smiled. "Next time you should think twice before sleeping under a waterfall." She raised a earthenware mug to his lips and he drank.
"Where am I?" came a hoarse voice that he could hardly recognize as his own.
"Don't talk," she said, "you'll need your strength. I will tell you all that you want to know a little later, But now you need to sleep."
He hardly had a choice the drink must have been a sleeping brew and he dropped off into the abyss of sleep...
She was immersed yet scared. She had never done this before. His hand was blue and stiff, severely frostbitten.
She stirred and stirred, the light blue liquid turned to froth under her powerful stroke. Slowly it began to turn from light blue to a deep emerald green.
She stopped stirring. Quickly she moved to his side and slipped his hand into the green liquid. Then to her surprise it began to steam, hot steam. And with terror she realized, acid steam!
She grabbed his arm and gently lifted it out of the bowl. His hand was covered with a light green foam and still steamed. A drop of foam fell to the wooden floor where it burned a deep hole.
She panicked. The words of her father came back to her, "Panic of the doctor is the worst enemy of the patient."
She began to think more clearly. She rushed out the door and returned with a basin of water and a towel. She knelt by his side and slid his arm into the cold water.
The greenish suds dispersed, burst into flame, and disappeared with wisps of smoke. His hand was bleeding, everywhere. The water was already turning red and cloudy. She watched in horror as the water turned redder and redder.
She had to stop the bleeding, if she didn't this man would die.
She carefully lifted his arm out of the water and wrapped his hand in the soft white towel she had brought. Then she grabbed his wrist and squoze. She squoze harder and harder but the blood kept coming; it was dripping on the floor.
It was like a nightmare the blood flowed down her arm and off her elbow into her lap. She groaned.
Then came the tears, hot tears, tears that she had never shed before. For this man one she hardly knew, she wept, she knew he was going to die.
Then without knowing why she began to sing. A low sad song of despair. But instead of it rising it dropped lower to the point of pain, emotional pain and suffering.
She had a hard time keeping the tears from stopping her sad rhapsody. She tried to bring the tune upwards but it wouldn't yield, it wavered upon depression and sadness.
She gathered all of her strength and slowly it changed, so slowly she almost gave up and lost hope. But she was driven by some force deep within her to try.
His arm began to glow, a strange white light emanating under the towel. As her song grew brighter the light grew more powerful and when suddenly her song leapt to its peak the towel was thrown aside and the room was illuminated with rays brighter than the sun at midday.
She could no longer look at it and she turned away. But in the end she faced it and it responded as to a command. It came off of his arm and massed into a tiny ball of white fire. Then it came to her. It hovered before her for a second but finally glided into her chest and disappeared.
His hand was completely healed and the blood was even gone.
She stopped singing. She paused, pondering on this significance. Then she fled sobbing from the room...
Numbness.
Confusion.
Blackness.
The darkness enfolded him like a thick blanket. He tried to struggle. He couldn't.
He opened his eyes and could see a dark brown texture above him. He looked around.
He was in a small room. On the side facing him, to the right was a door and to the left a long window. On the opposite side were several small windows with pictures of wildlife and scenery between them. The wall by his head was bare except a large fireplace situated in the center.
Then he saw her. The angel. In all of her glory. But how could this be, where was he? How could he be here?
But those thoughts slipped away as he gazed at her. They weren't important anymore. She was the only thing on his mind. She was mixing something with surprising swiftness. Then she rose and crossed the room to where he lay. It was a deep emerald green elixir that she had been mixing.
His hand, he noticed, looked blue and stiff. She took it and dipped it into the liquid. Then he felt the numbness in his hand turn to a dull ache. In his rapture he hardly noticed it.
He loved the way her light brown hair fell about her shoulders as she bent to her work. The curved rounds of her face were soft and delicate as the soft shadows of the failing light fell upon them. Her eyes of brown were calm and relaxed as she worked. Her strong arms held the weight of his heavy forearm as his hand soaked in the liquid.
Then her calm brown eyes took on a look of surprise and then horror. As they did this his hand jumped into a searing pain. She pulled his hand from the bowl and it boiled and steamed. As the pain increased he was forced to close his eyes.
They remained closed until the pain lessened suddenly. He saw her again holding his hand in a bowl of water. He watched in shock as the water turned pinkish with his blood.
She took his bleeding hand and wrapped it in a towel that she had had over her shoulder and squeezed at the wrist to stop the bleeding. He saw panic as it crept up in her eyes. She held his arm for a long time squeezing with all of her might. Blood dripped on the floor and began to pool.
The came a strange light emanating from her bosom. It crept up her arm and under the towel onto his hand. He felt it tingling sensation in his hand, a raw wonderful feeling, one of comfort, joy.
Then it began, a flood of pictures. Pictures of her, of her life and experiences. It was brief but he had learned about her, how she was and how she felt. She was affectionate, considerate, generous and delicate. But the part he loved most about her was her love for life and her self esteem. She wouldn't allow anyone or anything get in her way or even sway her. She was absolutely the woman of his dreams and more.
The light beneath the towel became so bright that the towel was thrown aside. It held his arm in the air by its own force.
The feeling became complete and the ball of brilliant light carefully set his arm across his chest.
She was standing by the door with her mouth open moving softly. Singing. Oh, that he could hear it! The light flew to her and paused in front of her face. Then it entered her breast and disappeared.
As she ran from the room everything went back as he fell into a deep sleep...
She didn't know what happened. She didn't know why.
As she ran through the forest branches slapped at her face. She ran through a small grove and didn't notice the doe dashing out of sight, stirring the small undergrowth of blue bells as it ran.
She came to the end of the clearing and stopped to rest.
How could it have happened? There was no logical or scientific explanation for what had happened. She had felt as if she knew what she had done and that she had done it on purpose, but she couldn't grasp how.
She didn't understand. It was as if she possessed some strange power, and somewhere, lying in her instincts, she knew how to use it. She could remember, but she couldn't. She searched desperately, groping about long lost memories, for some clue as to what this might mean.
She began walking, slowly, thoughtfully, it was not far from here. She walked until she came to a huge gray wall of stone rising upward. It looked almost man made because it was so sheer and featureless.
She walked along the face of it for a while until she came to a place where the huge wall looked as if it had rippled forming a small crevice proceeding upwards. She walked to it and put her hands into the crack.
Just inside it curved backwards forming an ideal handle. She got a good grip and hoisted herself off of the ground. She began scaling the wall in mountain climbing fashion, clinging to the crack as she worked upwards slowly, her muscular arms sometimes taking the entire weight of her body.
After she had gone up about fifteen feet there came a slight tingling mist from above. She expected this and tightened her grip. It was only another few feet until she came to a ledge. She lifted herself to it and stopped to catch her breath.
Then she arose and walked along the ledge for while until she was about above where she had first met the rock. She was at another crevice and she began to climb. She climbed for about six feet until she came to the ledge.
This one was very wide and instead of going to another wall it dropped to the other side. It had two rocky pinnacles on either side that rose up out of sight. There was a wispy mist that arose from the fall on the other side. There was a crude hole in the center of the ledge that water bubbled and rose from. The water split into two streams and was carried over the edge into the deep chasm below.
A heavy mist stirred and roiled below as the water from the fall plummeted onto rocks and was vaporized. She did not know where the water came from and there was no stream coming from the fall after it hit, but it didn't matter.
There was a small soft patch of grass between the waterfalls. She huddled up on it and curled into a ball dangling her finger in the left stream as she thought.
"Could I have done it?" she though out loud. "No, I couldn't have done it- But how did it happen?" She began probing her memory for an answer. Inside she felt sure she had done it, but she didn't know how she could have done it.
The answer would come nearer as she began remembering but it would always slip from between her probing fingers when she tried to pull it into the open. She tried to understand it while it was barely far enough not to fly away but the darkness of the past overshadowed her and she could not read it.
It was discouraging, very discouraging, but for some reason she found she had to keep searching, probing for an answer. It felt as if it was the most important thing in her life. She had to know.
She thought for hours until her mind was to tired and weary to think and could not stay awake so she fell into a deep sleep as the sun reached it's apex above her...
He awoke to a cold room. The fire had long since been out and the cold was like a sticky wet blanket.
He got up and stumbled toward the fireplace. There were logs in a bin at one side of the cabin. He wobbled toward them but collapsed on the floor to catch his breath.
He was tired and sore from the time he had been here not using his muscles. His joints ached. He twisted and turned to loosen some of his weary joints. He stretched a bit more and then arose once more.
It was much better. He walked nimbly toward the bin sometimes taking harder routes over and under things to loosen his body again to get it into shape.
When he arrived he hoisted a hefty amount of wood. Then he ran back to the fireplace, barely stopping without butting against the wall.
He knelt to start the fire. There was newspaper to the right for the purpose of kindling fires. He carefully folded the newspaper this way and that so he eventually had what looked like a small pyramid with four fuses inside. He pulled several small twigs from the logs and stuck them through the wall of the pyramid. Then he put his small pyramid, looking almost like a porcupine now, into the center and proceeded making a log teepee over it.
When this was done he looked around for a match. There was a small jar of them above the fireplace. He took and lit one. He then quickly put it beneath the pyramid so it would catch one of the fuses. Pretty soon the fire was burning well under the pyramid because the thickness of the pyramid didn't allow the fire to leave until it got very hot. Then it began to eat it's way out around the small sticks. Because it was so hot inside the sticks leapt into a merry flame instantly. In less than a minute the logs were blazing warmly filling the room with a nice comfortable warmth.
He returned to his bed to find that he was no longer tired anymore. His felt awake and alive, he felt strong again. He was about to leave when he finally remembered the wonderful woman who had tended to him and the shocking experience which had occurred. He sat upon his bed thinking.
She did not seem like the strange mysterious beauty she had been before she was now his friend. He understood her, he knew her, he loved her!
He had not known where these feelings had been coming from before, and he had not realized how powerful they were.
He had to find her.
He arose and walked out the door. He was about to call out her name but he suddenly realized that he didn't know what it was.
He walked off through the woods searching for some sign of her passing. When he came to the edge of a clearing he knelt quickly as he saw two deer, a doe and a buck, dancing through the forest.
He waited until they had passed and then began crossing the meadow. Then he saw a set of small footprints, possibly her's. He followed them to the edge of the clearing where they became difficult to discern where they led. He headed in the direction that the previous footprints had been going until he came to a tall pinnacle of smooth gray stone that was so high that he couldn't see the top because it was covered with a light gray mist.
He turned to the left, looking through the forest for any signal to where she had gone...
When she awoke it was dark. She was shivering. She sat up. The clear shining sky shone down on her with thousands of pinpoints of light.
She looked about, trying to find something, but she couldn't remember what.
She stood stretching. How did she get to Stormhaven? How long had she been here. Then she remembered.
She had come there to sleep out. When had she come, last night? It seemed like days. She recalled her dream. Only such an experience could have been a dream. She could never hold such powers. She remembered the man- but then it suddenly slipped away from her.
She was so tired. She sat again to decide on whether she should go home or not. But her thoughts were lost as she gazed at the stars. It calmed her. She lay back and closed her eyes, imagining flying toward the stars.
When she came to close to one the sight whispered something to her memory. She had seen it before. She imagined her small figure hovering by the star cross it's knees and put it's small hand against it's face wrinkling the small features as she deeply probed her thoughts.
It didn't take more than a half of a second until she remembered. That strange light in her dream. She clutched her chest where the ball of light had entered. But it was only a dream.
But then the star shifted size and shape until it was a small round light slightly bigger than her head. As the light faded she realized it's shape. It was his face, the man's. She carefully reached out and touched it.
She could feel the soft rounds of his face. She went over and over them until she had memorized them. Then when she was about to take her hand away she saw the shape go out of it and the ball of white fire rest in her hand.
Then she saw him as everything cleared. She saw him through times of sadness and sickness. He had been sad most of his life. He had never felt wanted by anyone before.
But months ago in a very low time of his life something happened. He began to under stand things as they were, to recognize his own feelings and desires. He gained wisdom and maturity. He gain love for life and for everything in it. Now that he had not been so depressed he gained many great talents. He made sure that he would never have those problems again.
And now that he was in control, he was happy. He was confident.
She knew him and when she was satisfied she opened her eyes to streaming sunlight...
He hadn't given up, but his strength had. He knew it wouldn't do any good if he found her and died shortly afterwards so he headed for home. It was lucky that his search had ended close to his home because his strength was barely enough to get him close to his bed where he collapsed on the floor.
The next day he woke up rested. He must have rolled off of his bed because he was lying on the floor. He knew why. It was that dream, it seemed so real, it's problems, it's pains. He felt glad it was over. But in a way he wasn't. He stored it away for further thought on Stormwatch.
He arose and stretched. He cracked two eggs into a pan and disappeared into a back room of the small cabin. He returned with and armload of wood. He opened the hatch to the stove with his foot and slid the wood inside. Grabbing one of the readymade 'firepyramids', as he had come to call them, he ignited the pile of wood with a nearby match.
Within a minute the eggs were sizzling over the hot black plate.
As his meal was cooking he redressed in a pair of not so dingy clothes, not unlike the set he was previously wearing. He stirred his eggs, carefully scrambling them. When they were still barely runny he moved the pan from the heat and dumped them onto a waiting plate.
He wolfed them down and fetched some orange juice from the fridge.
After he finished his breakfast. He cleaned the dishes, set a plate for the next day and exited through the front door.
"Off to work," he muttered as he passed beneath the doorframe.
The day was foggy. The thick blanket had rolled off of Lake Green. It was pretty thick and he considered taking a jacket, but he decided not to and trudged off southward.
By the time he reached the base of the giant oak he was damp all over. He sat down to rest for a minute.
The oak was gargantuan. It's base was at least twelve feet thick. It was the tallest thing for miles around. The base split into two sections and he bridged upwards between. He coarse climbing boot soles hanging onto the rough bark of the tree.
A little way upward he came to two smaller branches obstructing his way. He grabbed them and hung for a second. Then he hoisted himself with his powerful arms upward so he was sitting on that branch. He sat for a moment thinking.
He quickly debated on whether he was up to going the difficult way. He was still slightly sore from sleeping on the floor last night so he decided the easy way.
He flipped himself around and grabbed another branch protruding from the opposite side of the tree. There was a rope there rising upward out of sight.
Every two feet was a knot tied in the rope. He grabbed it and began pulling himself up. He climbed past at least a hundred feet of thick tree growth. Then he came to the top of the mist.
It was picturesque. Like a snowy landscape. He paused for a second marveling at the sight. He climbed farther. It was not far. He could see the end of the rope from here.
When he reached the top he lounged in the soft hammocklike sling, his massive chest heaving up and down. He was glad he had not taken the hard way.
The field of view was spectacular. He could see for miles around. He was about twenty feet above the mist.
The mist below was caught in strong gusts and being sucked though tremendous jets of air. It was mesmerizing. He was completely infatuated. Sometimes the roiling mist would be pulled upward in a mighty column before it would disperse into air.
He rolled back onto his nest and closed his eyes. What was it he was going to think about?
Oh the vision! The marvelous dream. The angel. He closed his eyes and relived the dream as the mist below spread and rose...
She had seen the wall of fog that morning and gone home. It was unearthly. Like some giant billow over lake Green had spurted pure mist. Like half of the lake was vaporized to form the fog.
It came, not slowly creeping across the ground, but in a giant hundred foot wall, overtaking the entire forest of Renn. The tallest of the trees were dwarfed. You could almost hear it as the gargantuan wall of whiteness collided with a mighty tree.
It was moving swiftly, about a foot per second. It completely disregarded the air in front of it. It was unbelievably dense, like the darkest pitch of night turned white. It was unbelievable. You couldn't see your hand in front of your face.
The dark greens of pines looked like the most beautiful seagreen. The sun was completely blotted out but the world was illuminated in a strange eerie green light.
The feeling was almost sticky. She could almost feel the eerie blackness cling to her clothing. She became damp by just standing in the atmosphere. It was a cold mist, a very cold mist, almost unbearable.
She shivered inwardly and didn't know why. She usually loved the mist and anything natural.
She shook it off and went to lie on her bed. Her thoughts strayed and wandered until they locked on the dream. Both of them, seemingly connected.
She had always had an active imagination but this seemed so very real. But it didn't make any sense, if it had really happened then there would have been a mess in the guest cabin. It was totally clean, nothing different.
She didn't know why it bothered her so much. She had had stranger dreams before. She tried to place her finger on why it seemed so real.
Of course. The feelings, not emotional, but physical. She could almost feel his arm pressing against her hands.
She had become more emotionally tired lately and she was exhausted easier.
This dream was consuming her. She had to settle her feelings with this dream or it would overcome her.
Suddenly she unfocused and spaced. She lay back resting.
When she lifted her head something caught her eye outside. When she left the house a strange sight awaited her. It couldn't be natural. Nothing could do that.
A sort of passageway was cut through the mist. It was so smoothly contoured that it looked solid.
She walked beneath it. Timidly she reached to touch the wall. It was insubstantial. Her hand was wet with mist. When she tried to bring mist into the tunnel it disappeared.
This was totally bizarre. She had never seen the like of this. She felt curiosity pull her to walk into the tunnel.
The ceiling looked as if it were a living thing, swirling and meshing. The walls looked solid and hard.
As she walked she felt a strange warmth fill the tunnel.
She came to a place where a fallen log was in the way and the mist rose over it. As she stepped onto where the fog rose she expected her foot to go through the fog to the ground.
Instead her foot touched a solid surface on the mist.
"This is really weird," she commented but kept walking, over the log and off through the tunnel.
Shortly she realized that the mist tunnel closed behind her as she walked. She was trapped. Forced to follow this supernatural trail to it's destination.
She decided that she would run to get it over with, to face it directly.
A long way down the trail she came to a curious structure, like an old cabin. The trail ended here. She found the door open and entered. It had been lived in, very recently. The stove was burning.
When she turned to leave, the door was closed. She tried to open it. It wouldn't.
This had to be another dream It couldn't be anything else. She wanted to end it as soon as possible. She went to the bed and lie down.
She fell asleep instantly...
When he opened his eyes he took on a confused looked. A plain wall swirled before him. He was in a small globe. He was completely closed in.
It looked like molten granite behind a glass shielding. But then it was just mist, swirling, tangling and bubbling. But there was no explanation for why it abruptly stopped like that and formed a smooth solid-looking surface.
Strangely there was no wind and it was oddly warm. Usually in this setting there was a constant cool breeze blowing through his hair. The air was stagnant. He felt alienated in the tight confines. Like there was no one to turn to, no one else in the world, no one to love him.
He had felt this way before and could easily brush it aside. But this time he couldn't for some reason.
It had happened before and it lead to doubting his abilities, but this time it didn't worry him.
He leaned to touch the side. It moved away from him forming a small cavity, always remaining an inch from his hand.
This was interesting. It matched one of his past dreams where he hollowed out his own world in the same manner.
It was like a fantasy. He drew little designs about in the mist. Then he leaned back to survey his work.
That was odd. His random patterns had formed a word, or more likely a name. It read 'Demosthenes'. What a beautiful name. He lie back and as he had done before began to create an image of the person who would best fit the name.
It didn't take long. It was as if he had known all along. It was the woman in his dreams and of his dreams.
He could not find why all of these significant events might be happening.
But he had no time to think as he began to sink. Through the thick leather swing! He grabbed for anything but it was all suddenly insubstantial, his flailing limbs passing through the thick branches as if they were air.
He realized it was futile and stopped. The mystic force carried him below the nest and then he dropped like a rock, passing through branches as thick as he was.
He yelled. As he fell he tumbled head over toes until he reached the ground where the invisible intruder held him hovering a few feet from the ground for a moment and let him drop.
His heart was about leaping out of his chest. His breathing was ragged and quick with panic.
He pulled himself up until he was seated against the trunk of the oak. He was still surrounded by mist and it still avoided his touch.
He wondered. As he looked up from where he had fallen he saw a small tunnel rising straight up from where his fall path had been. It was amazing. Like his caving trip and the chimney.
The only difference was the thick branches breaching the tunnel where he had fallen through the tree.
It was like nothing he had ever experienced. Like the ultimate illusion. It had to be a dream. He had already decided that when he stood and walked toward home.
He had memorized the trail back and forth many times. He had even gone home blind folded before the entire trip.
He didn't usually have this much clearheadedness during a dream but He was not surprised, if it had passed all of the other records in his dreams why not this one?
When he reached his house and touched the door it was warm.
He flashed back to when the bandits had taken his home. But he shook it off he would need to be levelheaded about this.
He snuck around the house to the cellar door, opened it without a sound and disappeared into the house...
Locke peered through the black pitch of the basement and could barely sight the light seeping through the small crack beneath the basement door. He snuck up the stairs being careful to avoid the third step because of it's loose nail that made it creak when one stood upon it.
As he neared to the top step he lowered himself to peer through the crack beneath the door. After about ten minutes he arose and grasped the doorknob. Slowly he turned the knob and opened the door a crack. He could see a form lying on his bed just across the room.
Whoever it was they were sleeping. He slowly widened the crack until he could fit through. Then he crawled without a sound across the floor to the foot of the bed. There, out of sight, he waited for any sign of disturbance of the sleeping form.
Then he rose to his feet and silently snuck over until he could see the person. Her face was turned and her hair was draped across it so he could not see her. But what he could see of her brushed at his memory as if he had seen her before.
He strode across the room, not trying to be silent, and sat upon a stool at the other side of the fire.
He was hungry, though he still believed this to be a dream, so he fetched some fruit from the refridgerator and when he closed the door he made sure to close it louder than usual.
The sudden sound startled the girl and she awoke. She turned to see him and both of them were shocked to see phantoms of their 'dreams'. They stared for a long time at each other and curiosity gleamed in both of their eyes.
Finally Locke spoke in a curious tone, "Who are you?"
She shook off her gaze and said "Demosthenes."
He Locke's face took to a wondering confused look as he glanced to the floor.
"What's wrong?" she asked in a questioning tone.
"Nothing," he mumbled, "how did you get here", he asked sitting on the stool and looking at her again.
"I don't know. I'm not even sure if I'm awake or dreaming. From the way I got here and where I am I'm almost sure its a dream."
"Even moreso for me," he whispered.
"What was that?"
"Nothing," Locke said "How did you get here?"
"Well this is kind of strange, but I walked through a tunnel cut out of the fog."
"That's not near as strange as the way I got here. I was carried through branches out of a two hundred foot tree and then cut my own tunnel through the fog."
"How?"
"Who knows. Who knows anything now. This has got to be a dream."
"Yeah, but whos."
"I'd like to think that I am not a figment of someones imagination and that my life has not been played out in someone elses mind in the period of one night."
"Same here, but then if this isn't a dream then what could be going on?" said Demosthenes trying to see anything out of the window.
Locke walked over to the window beside her and felt the window pane. "This is an unearthly fog it doesn't condense on windows and it doesn't even feel cold."
He walked over to the door and opened it. There was a plain wall of fog there, as smooth as glass. He reached out to touch it and, as before, it avoided his touch.
"That's strange," she said, "When I touched it it didn't do anything except my hand went through."
"Hmm. Try it now."
As she reached her hand out
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