THE ESSENCE IN GOLD

IN THE CHAMBERS

DEEP DOWN WHERE LIGHT WILL ONLY TOUCH ONCE

A boy young and frail, his skin close to transparent, blending in with the stacks of books on his desk.

Actually that's all that was there books piled up to the ceiling some were torn and some looked brand new. There was Something almost magical about the atmosphere the boy and his books emitted

He was no younger than 10 with grey eyes and a frown, dragging his cheeks down that mocked a saddened hound dog.

"You can stand there all you want... pretending as if I don't know your there" a cocky voice mumbled.

The person hiding in the corner tilted their head in curiosity 'how did the young one know I was here' was all that flew through their mind.

"And by now you are wondering 'he didn't even lift his head up and his eyes are closed' how the hell did I know you were there" he paused as if he was going to get some reply from the hidden stranger

To his dismay he had to continue talking although he talked to himself every second of the day, he had no one to talk to but himself, he was still lacking in the communicative skills also known as ' I can't stop and won't stop even though I know to stop'

"Well, I've lived here in his dingy, dusty, dark hole my whole life never to see the light or the birds and bees. Never to see a single soul or what colors lay beyond the surface, all I have is the descriptions of archaic books" he paused to take a breath, "so your presence wasn't hard to sense I could literally feel the dust become unsettled"  once again the boy expected a response maybe it was because he hadn't lifted his head and the stranger thought he was sleep talking

So he lifted his head and placed a forced smile on his pale lips he looked straight towards the hidden stranger

His dull eyes watched the shadows closely causing the stranger to become disturbed just like the dust.

He saw a flicker of a red satin robe,

"Satin... why not silk?" the boy asked even though he knew he wouldn't get a reply

So the boy just laid his head down and fell back to sleep unbothered by the stranger.

Deep crimson suddenly bled out of the shadows, like red wine the satin flowed gracefully with every tentative step.

The cloaked figure took the opportunity of the boys vulnerability and studied him

Red wine danced around the sleeping body, dark eyes studied the books that surrounded him

It was clear to the stranger that the boy desperately wanted to go outside to leave this little dwelling

Every book was about color, wildlife, flowers, the sun, the moon, mythology, anthropology, and, herbs

Sadness drifted over the strangers body remorse and sorrow, curiosity and guilt.

A delicate hand drifted from the satin slit and softly caressed the boys hair the hand drifted down to his cheeks and played connect the dots with his beauty marks the strangers hand drifted back to the boys hair and plucked a single white strand.

The boy jolted up, wide awake, and alarmed

The curious red wined stranger vanished

Not seen once again
Only a lucid dream