The little
boy walked towards the figure he saw in the distance. The five foot ten man
inside whom he resided seemed afraid of the figure and kept glancing over his
shoulder at more of these strange figures which had suddenly appeared all
around him.
The man
closed his eyes. He saw a large figure, waggling a finger at him and shouting
something. He cringed. The figure wouldn’t stop shouting. He tried to attack
the figure. But he was overpowered and pinned to a bed.
The little
boy was confused. His host wasn’t listening to him. They could not communicate.
He felt the host’s pain. He wanted to help but he could not.
Behind the
curtain of his eyes, the five foot ten man shuddered and cowered. Now there was
another figure in the room, also indiscernible; but shorter than the figure
that had pinned him down.
The man screamed “Don’t shout at me”.
Over and
over, he screamed the same thing.
Suddenly,
the figure pinning him down was whispering. A few seconds later he was made to
lie down and told to close his eyes.
The large figure spoke to him softly, but
once again the words were indiscernible.
The little
boy wished his host would listen. He felt chained. Wanting to help, but not
being allowed to.
Meanwhile in
the real world, the one of wakefulness; the man walks on towards the horizon.
He sees indiscernible shapes to his left, his right and his front and rear.
They form a sort of wall and cordon him in.
Internally,
the boy screams. The man merely opens his mouth. No words come out.
The
Bilge Master
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