Chapter 67 -
Sound.
I could hear so many sounds… a soft, high pitched melody from a bird… no… two birds… communicating via composition.
And insects.
I could hear insects, foraging… searching madly for food in the undergrowth.
And a car, I could hear its motor running as it powered along a road, somewhere…
And the breeze… how come I had never heard the breeze before? A light current of air, its draft coming into contact with… material… I could hear material being pulled gently back and forth…
And voices, low, but clear…
"It won't be long now, Charlie"
Esme. I could hear Esme talking, her voice calm, attempting to sooth…
"I need to see her… when will she wake up?"
Charlie.
His voice was deep and apprehensive. Yet he wasn't here, with me. Neither was Esme. Their voices were almost vibrating around the room, but not the room I was in…
Slowly I opened my eyes, as the light dazzled me. I felt myself blink a few times, to uncloud my vision. I was in Alice's room, Alice's bed, as my eyes darted across each surface, taking in every detail.
The full length window at the end of the room completely open.
The long, dark blue velvet curtains moving slowly against the breeze, the slight "swoosh" sound still echoing in my ears.
The small sofa bed that sat in the corner of her room, slightly worn and frayed on the edges.
The pale blue walls, where various paintings from throughout the ages were mounted demanding to be taken notice of.
The bedside table that held a photograph of me and Alice, one of the many Esme had taken before we had attended the ball. A tall, frosted and opaque glass stood next to the photograph, seemingly empty of liquid.
The small table in the corner of the room, with various fashion magazines stacked up neatly on one side, next to a candlestick whose candle was still burning even though it wasn't dark in the room. I watched the flames flicker yellow, blue and then white as it waned and then rose up. I could smell the melted wax, the aroma strangely comforting.
As the flame died down again, my eyes switched to the tall book case, filled with books by Austen, Shakespeare, Twain, Verne, Conan Doyle, Stevenson, Stoker…
She had Bram Stoker's Dracula?
I felt myself smile.
Why hadn't I noticed this before? Why hadn't I seen Alice's room, like I was now, before? It was almost as though I was seeing it for the very first time, or seeing it through someone else's eyes, someone who was more astute, more perceptive, more insightful…
She really did have Bram Stoker's Dracula. I was really looking forward to teasing her about that…
Footsteps. I could hear footsteps now, as I started to panic, why I wasn't entirely certain. I wasn't ready, to see anyone, not yet. I had so many questions, but right now I still felt as though I was getting my bearings.
Unless the footsteps belonged to Alice…
I found myself concentrating on that sound… on all of the sounds, the voices from down below…
