Lauren--Part Fifty-ThreeA Chapter by Wayne VargasSplog # 200Fifty-Three The room contained an elaborate miniature landscape which had a set of train tracks running through it. There were depots and trees and houses and trestle bridges and Lauren found the entire set-up entrancing. To one side of the window was a table with a chair beside it. On the table was a bowl and a wooden spoon and a cloth napkin. There was also a small pot with three tiny legs that raised it off the table. When she lifted the cover, a delightful aroma assailed her nostrils. It emanated from a stew of some sort and she couldn't resist spooning some into the bowl. She sat down and began to eat. She found it as delicious as her mother's own recipes, but with rather a different flavor. Her eyes wandered over the landscape inside the room and then she got up and went to the window to inspect the landscape outside. The first thing to catch her eye was the mountains in the distance, but when she looked closer, she found herself gazing at the same terrain she'd been traveling through since she set out on her trek that morning. She could follow her entire route in complete detail. The only thing missing was that there seemed to be no train tracks at the base of the tower. Instead, there was a stream that seemed to encircle it like a moat. Beyond that was a lovely lawn of green grass. There was a difference here also, in that the color was vibrant and natural and varied, unlike the expanse of flat, even green that she'd traveled through. The field sloped gradually upwards into a rise and just past it she could see the round schoolhouse where Jane and Bart studied with Captain What's-His-Name. Another rise led to the plateau with the path bordered by white flowers. The path ended at the stairs that led winding leftwards up to the black plateau. There was the large object in the middle that now seemed to be a mirror image of the white tower, only colored black. She could just make out the line that led from the top of the tower to the edge of the next plateau. And there were the winch and the chair! There was a fence across this plateau so she couldn't see its landscape. But she could see that there were two more plateaus before the land seemed to all merge together into mountains of various heights. The plateau above the one with the fence seemed empty and even-surfaced. It looked like it was composed of dirt and no growing things and there seemed to be a dark line going straight across it to the next one. A road, she hoped. The line went straight up the side to the next level, which was again grassy. Scattered across the plateau, she discovered, after a quick count, eight bells hanging from simple crossbars. They looked to be hanging low enough to be touched and she figured them to be the source of all the ringing she'd been hearing during her journey. As she examined the mountains rising above these five steps, she saw once again the bright red glow that had arrested her attention once or twice before. It was a little to the left and about halfway between the last plateau and the highest peaks. She gazed at it for a time but could discern no details. She followed the route she had traveled with her eyes and tried to remember the different things people had told her to expect. She didn't see an inn but there had been a building near the wall on the third level so that was probably it. There was a bell and a rocking chair and something else. She'd been in a rocking chair in the black tower and she'd heard plenty of bells. There was a dangerous place to be careful of. Could that be the black plain that had almost sucked her down? And there was some kind of household machine...A bell and a pump and a rocking...Pump! That was it! Pump? She wondered if that could be the winch that carried the chair from the plateau to the tower. Again, sounds from above broke into her reverie. Maybe someone was moving around up there. She glanced at the stairs leading upward. They went around the wall like the ones in the black tower, but they weren't enclosed. Before going up, she took another look out the window. She tried to imprint a clear image of where she had to go on her mind. Then she turned away and slowly climbed to the next level. There was a long table running nearly the whole length of the space. It was cluttered with paper and pens and paints and ink and chalk and wax crayons and other art supplies. Dominating the table was a rude clay sculpture of a tower rather like the one she was exploring. It had been made with white clay and then half of it painted black, rather unevenly. There was a window not far from where the stairs ended. She moved to it and found herself looking out on a deep blue sea sparkling in the sun. There were islands here and there and a few small boats running between them. © 2010 Wayne Vargas |
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Added on October 21, 2010 Last Updated on October 21, 2010 Previous Versions Author
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