The End of Wythwood Boulevard

Interlude - It Was Only A Dream

28th March, 1819.

A kid, he walked up to Elsie, slowly but welcoming. He reached out his hand and asked, "Are you alright?" Elsie grabbed at his outstretched hand and he pulled her up to her feet. "Thank you for standing up for me." The boy smiled and replied, "It was no problem."

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28th April, 1830.

Elsie sat up in her bed, fretting about what she had just dreamt. She couldn't remember if the events of the dream had even been real.. All she could think about was the boy she'd seen.

Elsie threw off her covers, clearly shaken, before making her way out into the hall. She didn't know what to do, but something felt incredibly wrong. It was almost as if something was forcing her to keep thinking about the dream.

She made her way down the stairs, not bothering to put on her shoes before she ran out the door, all the way down Clarke Street. She hadn't even stopped to consider what she was wearing, or the fact that she'd surely freeze in the night air.

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Arriving at St Ives' Bookstore minutes later, she was surprised to see Simon still awake in the storefront. Elsie walked up to the door and tried to open it. It was locked, no surprise. Knocking lightly, she got Simon's attention after only a few moments.

Striding up to the door, he unlocked and opened it up for his friend, "What brings you here this late?" Simon asked, slight concern in his eyes. "I need to talk to Lenore." Elsie replied, shivering in the cold. "Is she awake?" Elsie explained the dream briefly to Simon as he let her inside. "Here, I'll get you a cup of tea. You've got to be freezing." He said, patting Elsie reassuringly on the shoulder as per usual.

They began to ascend the stairs, heading up to the living room on the second floor. Elsie sat down on the sofa, in her usual spot, waiting for Lenore to present herself.

Lady had followed them up from the shop floor, jumping up onto the couch beside Elsie, kneading the fabric of the nightgown she was wearing for a moment before making herself comfortable on the girl's lap.

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Simon returned what must've been ten minutes later, setting a couple of steaming cups of tea down on the table in front of them. "Sugar?" He asked, for once not knowing what else to say. "No, I'm quite alright." Elsie sighed, shaking her head. "I just need a moment." Everything had happened so quickly that she obviously hadn't had time to collect her thoughts, much less herself.

"Lenore is in her room," Simon shifted in his seat, "She's most likely still painting.. that girl's been doing nothing else since early yesterday afternoon." He told Elsie. "I normally would advise against disturbing her, but this seems important." The boy was clearly a bit worried about Elsie, she'd turned up so late and in such a frightening state as well.

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After finishing her cup of tea, Elsie stood, and thanked Simon. "I believe I'll be taking this with me," She laughed a bit as she picked up Lady Whittock, the cat nestling into her shoulder, "For support, of course."

Elsie crossed the room to Lenore's bedroom door, knocking softly before letting herself in. Lenore had turned to face her as soon as she'd stepped in the room. "Good God, Elsie. What are you doing here?" She immediately dropped her brush, crossing the room to where Elsie was standing.

"I don't know, I just had to come talk to you." Elsie was shaking again, not quite sure why. "I had a.. nightmare. Or just.. a dream." Her eyes darted around the room, almost like she wasn't quite sure if she was even awake or not.

"My goodness," Lenore took Elsie by the arm, leading her over to sit on the bed, "You really have lost it this time." Elsie laughed for a moment, still trying to shake the terrible feeling that dream had given her. "I just don't know what's happening to me. I've never been affected like this by a dream before."

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Elsie had fallen asleep some minutes ago, wrapped in a blanket she'd taken off of Lenore's bed. She'd been sleeping on the floor, a result of watching Lenore paint after she'd calmed down.

It was all merely a dream, she'd convinced herself, just a dream.

It couldn't possibly have been anything else.