"The dream troubles you?" Diaphanous inquired.
Sedrick wondered if he should, or even could, bring himself to recount the thing. The feeling of it being all too fresh and vivid. But he knew the words of the storyteller, who had stood before him in his sleep - if it was indeed sleep - were not going to go away simply because he'd not repeated them. And so he began to recite the tale the teller had told.
She spent her time waiting for the first breath of life
A love that her heart could call home
When at least it came though yet from a distance
She packed all she had and all that she was
Wrapped up in ribbons and bows and set out to seek its source
At the crossroads she stood, determining her course
Had he'd called from the left or the right she wasn't sure
Tilting her head perhaps to better hear
Standing on tiptoes so she might see farther into the distance
And she wondered how long had she been there
And she thought of time and how it passed
As she watched the others as they went ahead two by two
Toward life and love that their hearts would call home
She stood with her package of all that she was
As the once vivid colors of the ribbons fade
And the flowery bows wilt in the heat of the day
Days that seemed like years and the years longer still
As a picture grows dim and fades out of view
So my vision of her as she waits for his voice
To be her clues and her courage or to say perhaps
Here I am to the east or to the west move toward me
But where is she now the one with her package
Her heart wrapped like a present in wind worn paper
Last I saw her she was still standing at the crossroads
On tiptoes perhaps to see farther into the distance
Wondering how long she'd been there, waiting.
To Sedrick, it seemed as if it wasn't even his own voice he heard as he had repeated the song-like story. But the question didn't remain long. Diaphanous, who now, it seemed, wasn't at all surprised or shaken in the least, and Sedrick wasn't required to wait for long at all before she replied.
"It is a tale of a girl who waited. Yes. A rather sad seeming tale, told through the eyes of a Teller. But I know of another part of that tale - a part of the story the Teller left out, or perhaps wasn't aware of, or even perhaps forgot.
Though the tale might create, for the mind, images of the roads that cross and a girl who stands there, waiting, as if those roads were dry and barren, as if one might see the dust rise on the slightest breeze. Yet if one looks a little closer, just to the side, there is a scene easily overlooked.
There you would see an oasis. A beautifully shaded place of rest and refuge. And a brook, where cool water babbles and sparkles under the light of the full moon. There, under a dogwood tree, he has left for her comforting words, written on by his own hand, on pages that shine like silver tablets.
She reads 'I love you' And with that thought, she rests peacefully, and whispers, 'When I rest here, beneath this tree, beside this brook and read the words you have written and left for me - in those moments I am content.'"
Diaphanous said no more. In the silence, somehow instinctively, Sedrick knew that there must be some connection between this story - the dream - and Leala. He was able to determine so little about her past that he couldn't be sure how. Now, there seemed a kind of glimpse of something he couldn't quite grasp, yet knew was quite real, even though the understanding of it was fleeting.
Sedrick still wasn't used to the fact that Diaphanous often times seemed able to read his thoughts and hadn't expected his ponderings to be interupted by her words, once more.
"Your heart tells you this is part of Leala's story. If I could tell you more, I would do so, but these are questions you must ask Leala."
Yes. He planned to do just that, as soon as he managed to catch up with her on the other side of Belwich, as was their agreement. But at this point it was more a question of "if" than "when."
© Rachelle
"Drive"
The Cars
