Still Life by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview

Still Life

Page 35

Then laughter is its queen.

And likewise if behind is in front

Then dirt in truth is clean.

My mouth by then like cardboard

Seemed to slip straight through my head

So we crash dived straightway quickly

And attacked the ocean bed.

And so it was that later

As the miller told his tale

That her face, at first just ghostly

Turned a whiter shade of pale

Written by Gary Brooker and Keith Reid.

When finished, they left the hall not as tourists but as witnesses; of the castle's refusal to be legible, of their own decision to adapt rather than decode. The corridors no longer confused them; they invited misdirection. Every turn was a gesture, every detour a ritual. And as they climbed the stairs back to their room, the velvet hush welcomed them like a stage curtain drawn for the next act.

When they enter an area labelled as “The Alcove of the Forgotten Noble,” Finn pauses before the statue, its marble robes half swallowed by shadow. “He looks like he’s waiting for something,” Susie murmurs. “Or someone.”

A voice drifts from behind a tapestry; “He waits for the ones who mistake him.”