Amy’s mother was quite dead. Morpheus could see her soul, all grey patches and blue, fading. As it was the first time he was seeing it, he found himself trapped in rapt fascination, staring for long moments until he became aware that Amy was staring too. There was a thin line of blood running down from her scalp, tracing the gentle contour of her cheek.
“You are bleeding,” he told her.
“I know.”
The car was the wrong way round, Amy was hanging upside down from the belt that secured her to the seat.
“Are you comfortable?” he asked her curiously.
“She’s dead isn’t she?”
“Yes,” he said, and then realized that humans tended to be highly attached to each other, and added, “I am sorry.”
“I didn’t like her. She hated me. She was suppose to take care of me after Papa died.”
“And she did not?”
“No. She locked me in my room.”
Morpheus realized he did not entirely enjoy the sensation of being upside down.
“Shall we get out of the car?” he suggested after a moment.
“I don’t know if I can move, I’m a little dizzy.”
“I will help you.”
Morpheus steps out of the car with all the grace of a figure skater stepping onto ice and suddenly Amy is standing next to him, her hand in his. The bleeding has stopped and she realizes suddenly that she is holding a large lollypop in her free hand.
“You’re magic aren’t you?” she asked him.
“I am Morpheus.”
“Yes, I know, you told me,” she replied, but her eyes were on the woman in the car.
“What happens now?” Morpheus asked the child.
“In the movies the police always come.”
“Do you want to wait for them, or would you like to come with me?”
No comments:
Post a Comment