二楼惯例，sammy录入的原文。
The Lost Dreamers —— Part Three: In the Dread of Night
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发表于 2010-8-25 15:18 | 只看该作者 | 倒序看帖 | 打印
本帖最后由 sammy 于 2010-8-25 15:19 编辑
Gregory Gry woke alone in his bed.
Throwing the sheets back, he jumped up and surveyed the room. Sunlight was creeping in through a crack in the curtains. Twila's painting was back (was it ever really gone?) in its customary place, and there was no sign of the marble staircase. Just a dream, he thought. Just a dream. But where's Twila?
Gregory went to the washroom, and splashed some cold water on his face. He rubbed his eyes and looked in the mirror. He didn't get enough sleep last night, and it showed. He would be off his game today, but what else was he going to do? Turning, he noticed one of Twila's little black dresses hanging from a hook on the door, and he felt a heavy sense of loss creeping from his chest to the pit of his stomach. What else was he going to do, indeed.
Gregory's day at the card tables was short. He wanted to distract himself with the game, but the room seemed empty, the pots were small, and the dealers who could usually be counted on to keep things engaging seemed too tired to care. Even when he took down the one sizable pot he played, the thrill was not there. At one point, he found himself on the verge of telling the strange tale to the rest of his table, catching himself at the last moment. Who would believe him?
Unable to keep his mind focused on the game, Gregory had lost his initial stake before the end of the morning, and he decided that it would be in his best interest to sit out the afternoon. Instead, he took a walk through an abandoned section of the city.
That evening, Gregory nibbled at a cold, tasteless sandwich, alone. The food made him think of better meals, and better days. With little appetite, he pushed his chair away from the table, and paced throughout his apartment. Yesterday's newspaper lay abandoned on a chair. Gregory picked it up and skimmed the headlines. It was going to be a long night.
Sitting down on his bed, Gregory tried to distract himself with the newspaper. He couldn't focus. He couldn't keep himself from staring at the covered painting in the corner of the room. He imagined Twila standing in front of the easel, intent on her work... At one point, he rose, and walked over to the corner, tempted by the urge to pull back the cover and see...
He forced his hand to stop, and instead walked to the kitchen and made himself a drink. Returning to the bedroom, He set the glass next to the small self-portrait that Twila had given him when they first met. As he sipped at his drink, his gaze lingered on her face, and she seemed to be staring back at him with pity in her eyes. He shuddered, and turned off the light, hoping to dream.
The night was long, and lonesome, but the dream would not come.
Days passed. Twila did not return, but her memory lingered. Gregory spent long, empty days in the card room, days in which breaking even could be called a success. He spent longer, emptier nights waiting for sleep. The most innocuous items haunted him with memories... a hairbrush, a towel, her favorite drinking glass. But of all the items that reminded Gregory of Twila, the one that disturbed him the most was the covered painting in the corner of the bedroom. With each passing day, Gregory became more and more certain that it held some clue as to where Twila had gone, and how he might once again find her. The temptation to draw back the cover and see the painting once and for all was strong, temp pered only by his sense that he should respect Twila's memory by upholding her wish that no one see the paining until it was complete. Thus, Gregory's mind was locked in an internal struggle.
Until one night, when he woke with a start. Twila had visited him in a dream. He could still hear her voice, echoing in his head. "If you want to come to me, Gregory, the painting holds the key..."
He climbed out of bed, and paced about the room, coming to a stop near the painting. Was it really her, or was his mind trying to trick itself into stealing a look at the painting? He didn't know, but he was about to find out.
Gregory Gry closed his eyes, and pulled back the cover from the painting of Twila-Katherine Price.
