It all began this morning after I'd done my homework. I happened to glance casually at mum's copy of Dante's "Inferno." It looked rather interesting, so being rather my sort of book (it's about Hell, you see), I decided to tackle it this evening when mum had gone to night-school.
After I had waved good-bye, I emptied the contents of the coal scuttle on the fire, curled up in my favourite chair (the one nearest the window) and started to read .....
Oh this heat, this interminable heat ! Where am I ? What is burning? I have never seen so great a fire as this. See, see how the flames lick me and yet my clothes are not kindling. Who is there, so close to me, screaming from the heart of a tortured soul? Who is crying there ? I cannot see you. Come out please, please I prefer danger I can see to danger I cannot. Whose souls are these lying dead on the burning ground? What grief have you caused? Human's! A human shape at last, but no, this thing has a tail and horns. How did I get here, how, how? I'd better run for he has a three-pronged fork. He is running. More of these hideous creatures are appearing from out of the flames. "Go away! Go away !" my voice cries. My tormented soul is wrenched away from me, I trip, my ankle hurts, and the fiends stand over me gazing with anticipation at my naked soul. With trepidation I cry, "I did my homework, I did it, did it, did it !" lam falling....
I am in a garden a beautiful garden, green grass, exotic flowers bowing in the slight breeze to the King Rose who stands alone in the centre. Dreamy butterflies mazily float to and fro and I inhale the delicate, fragrant odours, Bees buzz busily in the air; they seem to descend around my head. Their incessant buzzing is much louder than usual. It becomes unbearable. All is spinning and reeling .....
"Wake up, dear, I'm home" said mum shaking me gently, "Those cats do look comfortable buT get the kitten away from your face." I sat up then. The cats (all of them) were purring and the dog was gently wagging his tail. The fire was, by this time, nearly out.
"Mum, I did have a queer dream." .
Did you ? What's that in your hand ?" .
I looked down and in my hand was one rose, one solitary, splendid, red rose.
DALLAS PORTER, III.
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