Chapter 6: Day 3

The rains arrived at approximately 2100 hours. The gardens and grasses welcomed the moisture, but it wasn’t long until the downpour had inundated their roots, saturated their soil, and overcome their frail structures; drowning them with the element they desired most, and feared the least.

Not a peep last night. What devils are these? I paced the halls, back and forth, to and fro, to catch a glimpse of the changelings performing their nightly pagan rituals. How was my patience repaid? Silence. Deathly. Maddening. Silence.

I found myself pressing my ear against each of their doors, for even a clue that there was life within. I could hear their chests rising and falling, but I knew. I knew that they were only there in the flesh. Just as the tall one had magically appeared in my bed the night before, I knew that they both had spirited away to another dimension, where the laws of physics are abandoned and time turns in on itself. It is here that they plan their dastardly deeds and where their schemes are prepared for my inevitable demise.

If only I could meet them there, in this diabolical Land of Nod. Alas, the inner workings of my feeble brain do not allow such a luxury. I would like to confront them in their fantastical imaginarium, the place of dreams, and challenge them in the ultimate battle of good vs. evil.

I close my eyes but I cannot sleep. I must now resign to the fact that my pusillanimous nature only allows me to dream such thoughts in a conscious state.

I must make use of every waking moment. A nagging reminder keeps rekindling itself. Kindergarten registration forms are due tomorrow, and I must find proofs of residency, records of innoculations, certificates of birth, and other sundry documents, or risk suffering the wrath of she who is in Washington DC on business. Sleep will wait. But for how long?

At the request of the tall one, tonight there will be a showing of the cinema classic “Barbie: The Princess and the Popstar.” I can only hope that I am able to numb my senses sufficiently prior to this sensory assault.

Madness is like a heavy blanket. It draws you in and provides you comfort and warmth. But, slowly, it smothers you with its gift.

Holding on, for now,

Timmy

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