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Cyril Darkcloud · 06-03-2007, 02:42 AM

Locke Manor – The Guest Wing

Joseph

Outside the door to his room time passes, despite the unusual, even exciting, events of these recent days, with its accustomed and measured movement of full and ordinary minutes incrementing into full and ordinary hours. Within this room, however, there is a different sort of measure about the movement of minutes into hours and, indeed, of hours into days. Outside the door to his room the business of living and the tending to affairs both mundane and unusual proceed apace together beneath a common standing under the movement of a common sun. Within this room, however, the common movement of light between poles of shadow and the common waxing and waning of shadow beneath the movement of light provide a measure of little meaning. But within that small measure of little meaning there is a surplus – a hidden fullness – that has been allowed to emerge within the limited space behind this door and between these walls.

Mere hours have passed on the other side of his door, but here, within this room, he has slept and rested for more than day. On the other side of his door morning has given way to afternoon which in turn has passed into evening. But on this side of his door a day and a half of rest has given way to another day of thought and study and reading and another full night of sleep. A short while ago according to the measure of time that obtains on the other side of this door, Jeanette, the maid, left this very room convinced she would be chastised for having listened at such length to the curiously compelling conversation of the visitor for whom she has been caring only to be pleasantly surprised in finding that her estimation of the time that had passed in such conversation - she thought it to be at least an hour – was much less, decidedly much less, than she could readily believe.

The passing of time beyond the door and the relief of a maid at not having been too negligent in her duties matter little to him, however. The enchantment has served its purpose. He is a bit embarrassed, truth be told, at its artlessness, but one can only trust a healer so far before one must take a more direct role in one’s own recovery. The Lockes have been content to allow him his rest and he is equally content to convey the impression that rest is still the order of the day with him. Indeed, his recovery is still far from complete. But there is the matter of the book, that tome lying even now on the table before him still wrapped in the traveling cloak of one Larry Silverfall, that prize the youth had seized for him from the treasury of that One who so artlessly wields what is called the power of Modding Shadow.

He smiles.

[ 06-03-2007, 02:47 AM: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]

06-03-2007, 02:42 AM	#247
Cyril Darkcloud Lord Soth Join Date: February 7, 2002 Location: New York Posts: 1,980	Locke Manor – The Guest Wing Joseph Outside the door to his room time passes, despite the unusual, even exciting, events of these recent days, with its accustomed and measured movement of full and ordinary minutes incrementing into full and ordinary hours. Within this room, however, there is a different sort of measure about the movement of minutes into hours and, indeed, of hours into days. Outside the door to his room the business of living and the tending to affairs both mundane and unusual proceed apace together beneath a common standing under the movement of a common sun. Within this room, however, the common movement of light between poles of shadow and the common waxing and waning of shadow beneath the movement of light provide a measure of little meaning. But within that small measure of little meaning there is a surplus – a hidden fullness – that has been allowed to emerge within the limited space behind this door and between these walls. Mere hours have passed on the other side of his door, but here, within this room, he has slept and rested for more than day. On the other side of his door morning has given way to afternoon which in turn has passed into evening. But on this side of his door a day and a half of rest has given way to another day of thought and study and reading and another full night of sleep. A short while ago according to the measure of time that obtains on the other side of this door, Jeanette, the maid, left this very room convinced she would be chastised for having listened at such length to the curiously compelling conversation of the visitor for whom she has been caring only to be pleasantly surprised in finding that her estimation of the time that had passed in such conversation - she thought it to be at least an hour – was much less, decidedly much less, than she could readily believe. The passing of time beyond the door and the relief of a maid at not having been too negligent in her duties matter little to him, however. The enchantment has served its purpose. He is a bit embarrassed, truth be told, at its artlessness, but one can only trust a healer so far before one must take a more direct role in one’s own recovery. The Lockes have been content to allow him his rest and he is equally content to convey the impression that rest is still the order of the day with him. Indeed, his recovery is still far from complete. But there is the matter of the book, that tome lying even now on the table before him still wrapped in the traveling cloak of one Larry Silverfall, that prize the youth had seized for him from the treasury of that One who so artlessly wields what is called the power of Modding Shadow. He smiles. [ 06-03-2007, 02:47 AM: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]