It was a beautiful place, a garden that stretched for miles, with sweeping lawns and tree-topped knolls, and immense flowerbeds full and vibrant with every shade of colour. Palest blue snowcapped mountains rose over the distant hilly forests and the untainted azure of the cloudless sky governed all. Like spectral sentinels around these cherished and organized pastures stood many white pillars, tall yet unobtrusive, and set in no definite order. High in the clear air a golden eagle soared, its flight graceful and supreme. A stream that reflected the blueness above ran through this nirvana into a great lake, dazzling jewels of sunlight dancing on its ripples.
The twins held hands as they wandered through the flower displays, Eva stopping them both as they walked to stoop and observe a holly blue butterfly that had settled on the head of a poppy, or to watch a furry bee skit among a cluster of dandelions, gathering pollen on its way. A light breeze made the warmth pleasant and stirred the leaves in nearby trees. The twins dropped to their knees to study a green caterpillar scaling a blade of grass, and when they raised their heads again they found the lawns busy with other children, many playing together in groups, some chatting or singing to one another, quite a few lost in solitary thought; and although their appearance was instant, they carried on as if they had always been there. Josh guessed there must have been at least a thousand of them, probably many more, and he glanced at Eva in astonishment, for never before had they met with so many. Her eyes sparkled and she dragged him towards a bunch of boys and girls playing blind man's buff around the pillars. The twins were not so much welcomed as accepted naturally and were soon giggling with the others as a blindfolded boy, arms outstretched like antennae, searched for dodging friends.
Josh and Eva enjoyed returning to this dream for here they joined with children like themselves, familiars who shared a common bond: the One-Thought. None of them understood what the One-Thought was, they were only informed that it belonged to them alone by the old man who sometimes roamed among them, and that it enabled them to come together in this way. One day they would realize its potency as well as its source, the old man, the Dream Man, promised; one day that perhaps was not too far away.
Eva laughed as she ducked beneath the waving arms of the blindfolded seeker and slipped behind a nearby pillar. The pillar's smooth surface was warm to her touch and she gave a small squeal of surprise as she hopped away. Curious, she approached it again and put her fingertips to it, and this time, perhaps because there was no surprise, she found the mild heat pleasant. She leaned her cheek against the column and took pleasure from its warmth.
Josh came scooting around the other side, glee shining from his blue eyes, and snuggled close to Eva, using both sister and column as a barrier between himself and the hands that sought him.
The blindfolded boy appeared, having followed soft fleeing footsteps and the giggles that went with them. The twins moved around the pillar as if glued together, and tried to hold their breaths in check.
But the boy halted and looked about as though his eyes were not covered. He pulled the mask away and there was such abject misery in his expression that Eva's lip trembled in sympathy. Other children had ceased their activity now and they, too, were looking around as if searching for someone. Josh and Eva felt the grief with them, for they were suddenly aware that, although their numbers had grown, one of them was missing. The loss was in the collective-consciousness, and they all shared the thought that soon many more would fail to arrive at this place. Some of the children began to weep. Others looked towards the sky and saw the storm clouds gathering over the far mountains. Their sadness was replaced by a crawling dread.
The clouds began to move rapidly towards these green fields, dark and furious, lightning stuttering through them, the low rumble of thunder rolling over the forest lands.
The breeze quickened, ruffling the children's hair and catching their clothes. Some cried out, others whimpered their distress. Lightning flashed again, still distant, but bleaching the landscape; the crack of thunder that came after caused the children to cringe, their shoulders hunching to their ears and their hands curling into tight grips. They huddled together in groups or in pairs.. «
Boiling clouds sped towards them, ragged and threatening, filling the sky, and as they approached parts seemed to form into vaporous claws that sank downwards as if to pluck the children from the lawns, only to lose substance and wither away as they neared the ground.
As Josh crouched beneath another thunderclap, something moving in the grass caught his attention. He stumbled backwards, taking Eva with him. She screamed when she spotted the worms wriggling from the earth, for they were everywhere, oozing from below. Spiders, bugs and shell-backed creatures came with them and soon the grasslands pulsed with this teeming unbidden life. Children shrieked and stamped their feet when they discovered what they were standing in, then began to scatter in all directions. As they did so, more shapes appeared in the storm clouds that were now over their heads: mouths and eyes formed in the tumbling mists, not necessarily together, and long tongues snaked towards the ground; whole arms appeared, only to be dispersed on completion by the angry winds. And there were monstrous configurations whose place could only ever be in such nightmares; these too dissolved as soon as they were fashioned.
'Run, Eva,' Josh urged, spinning her and propelling her towards the nearest cover, the woods that bordered the vast gardens.
'Run!'
The children bumped into each other as they fled, many of them falling into the filth exuding from the ground, their panic intensified by the sharing, and Josh and Eva were knocked over several times before reaching shelter. They hesitated before entering, for none of the other children had chosen this way, and besides, the nocturnal shade offered by the leafy canopy was uninviting.
Josh stared back at the darkened lawns filled with running, tumbling friends and wondered if he and Eva would be better off among them-at least there might be safety in numbers. But Eva tugged at his arm and pointed.
Inside the woods shone a small light.
The boy cried delightedly and drew his sister over the forest threshold. Immediately they found themselves on a narrow footpath.
The light twinkled among the trees not far away.
They exchanged glances and did not need to speak; both knew the way ahead was towards the light. They ran, Josh in front, for the width of the path did not allow them to travel side by side, and the moss and debris of the forest floor was soft and comfortable beneath their feet. The upper branches of the trees shook with a wind that seemed to follow their progress.
'Wait for me,' Eva pleaded, and Josh was forced to slow down. Impatiently he reached back for his sister's hand so that he could pull her along at a brisker pace. They sprinted that way for a short while, Josh awkwardly half-turned so that he could keep hold of Eva, low branches and bushes lashing at them as they went, and stopped only when they were getting no closer to the light. It hovered ahead of them, shimmery in the dusky air. It retreated, then returned, as if encouraging them onwards.
'It wants to take us somewhere safe, I know it does,' Eva insisted.
Josh smiled: he knew it too. 'Come on,' he said, and they were off again, racing through the trees with the graceful speed of wood nymphs.
The small ball of light led them on, a flittering will-o'-the-wisp that was sometimes lost from view, but never for very long. Eventually the path widened and the twins ran side by side, their breathing often broken by chuckles of excitement as the little glow played hide and seek with them, disappearing into thickets to reappear in another place some way off, orbiting trees to shoot off, straight as an arrow deeper into the forest. And deeper into the forest the children followed.
They began to grow weary.
'I'm tired, Josh,' Eva complained as she rested against the gnarled trunk of a twisted old tree. She looked around warily, for the forest was even thicker here and the foliage more wild and prickly.
'We can't stay here,' Josh told her, although he, himself, collapsed on to the leafy path and rested.
'But where are we going?' Her manner was mournful.
'After… after the light.' He drew in quick breaths and searched ahead.
'I don't want to follow it any more.'
'We've got to, Eva, we-' He squinted his eyes.
Night had swiftly and inexplicably descended upon the forest, blending with its shadows in a dark conspiracy. The way forward was sinister, but another kind of light filtered through the trees, one that was somehow warmer and steadier.
'It's a window,' he whispered.
'It's a house!' Eva exclaimed, following his gaze.
They burst into a run again, ignoring the cruel barbs that snatched at clothes and scratched their flesh. Eva screeched as she stumbled over a tree root, but Josh was there to save her from falling and to pull her onwards. As they drew nearer to this new light, they became more cautious and slowed their pace. The winds rustled leaves and caused upper branches to sway and creak. A disturbance nearby made them jump, but whatever animal had become entangled in the undergrowth freed itself and hurried on, its path plotted by quivering foliage.
The twins finally broke through into a clearing. The black clouds roiled above the treetops and lightning bathed the scene below with silver. Two tiny windows of the old stone cottage were aglow with a soft welcoming light and smoke curled lazily from the chimney stack in the thatched roof before it was seized and dispersed by the blustery wind. Climbing roses took the harshness from the walls, although they themselves were rendered bleak then dulled in turn as the light variegated. There was no garden, for the forest itself was just that, but bluebells shivered on either side of the path that led to the doorstep. The door itself was slightly ajar, a thin seam of flickering light beckoning from within.
Josh and Eva recognized the tiny dwelling from storybooks they had read and, although there were variations in those stories, the promise was always the same: such a sweet place always offered sanctuary. Sometimes there was more, but at that moment the children could not remember what it was. They were tired and frightened, and despite their exertion, a chill was in their very bones. They needed comfort.
'Come on,' said Josh boldly leading the way. Less confident, Eva followed.
They heard a quiet lilting song as they drew close to the open door, but the wind scooped away any meaning to the words. The fiercest thunderclap yet and finally, the first raindrops, sent the bluebells into a frenzy of shaking and the children scooting the last few steps to the door.
Yet still they paused at the threshold and listened as the reverberations of thunder rumbled away. The song was more easily heard, but they realized it was in another language, one that was alien to them yet strangely familiar. They shivered there on the doorstep, afraid to go in, afraid even to knock, when abruptly the singing ended and a voice as sweet as the song itself bade them enter.
'Kom inside, children, there iss nothing to harm you here.' It was a woman's voice.
The twins looked at each other for a decision. The voice was not an English one, but the message was precise.
'Please kom, there iss warmth and food for you.'
It was Eva who pushed the door wider.
A figure sat in a rocking chair by the fireside, one side of it lit by the flames, the other side cast in deepest shadow. An oak dresser filled with hanging teacups and painted plates stood against one wall, and a small round table covered over with a lace cloth stood near the room's centre; there was a low stool opposite the rocking chair and a black pot hanging over the fire; curtains dotted with tiny flowers decorated the small windows and a soft-coloured rug covered much of the wood flooring; a rickety corner staircase led to the room or rooms above. The children stayed where they were, encouraged by the fire-lit cosiness of the room, but wary of the stranger who welcomed them.
She raised a hand towards them. 'Don't be afraid,' she said in her strange accent. 'I em som-one who knew you once, som-one who loves you.'
A shawl was around her shoulders and thin, laced boots rose above her ankles into the petticoat that showed beneath her long skirt. Ringlets of wild dark hair hung around her face, shadowing her features even more. It was Eva who conjured the word 'gypsy' in her mind and the thought was as swiftly passed to her brother, who drew in a sharp breath. The connection was as swift again, for assumptions have a strong hold in dreams and challenges are for waking hours.
Josh remembered the picture-book where they had first seen this place. The story had been about… about…
To and fro went the rocking chair, to and fro, creaking all the time…
He couldn't remember, though he knew it was important, and Eva wasn't even trying: she was moving closer to the figure.
'Kom, little one,' the gypsy lady entreated, 'we haf things to tell each other. So pretty…'
Josh was uncertain. The story-what had it been about? Something was nagging at him, jigging up and down in his mind, annoyed at him for not remembering. There once was a tiny cottage hidden away in a dark and terrible forest…
Eva looked back at him, smiling, before continuing towards the lady, who now sat with her arms outstretched to receive her.
'So much to tell…' she was saying, her accent distorting the words, somehow making them heavy. 'Soooo much…'
And in the cottage there lived… there lived…
'Where are you from, little one, and what do they call you?' Eva hesitated. 'But you're our mummy. You know my name.'