SURRENDER
By George Holmes Sept 2010 copyright
Gleaming iridescent dragonflies, gold, crimson, blue and emerald swirled about her. She felt drowsy as though of hemlock I have drunk she thought remembering a distant lesson about Keats. She seemed numb but not unaware. She gave into her drowsy state, into that surrender to rest, to find that undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveler returns. How proud Miss Tiddington would be of her, she thought. She had played Ophelia with Miss Tiddington giving her private lessons. She had loved poetry and romance. She let go her worries, her cares, her anxieties so often assuaged with pills; she abandoned them and suddenly was alive in the moment, carefree, light as she faded into the reality of the present, where the light was. In front of her, a door, old, studded, gnarled and heavy, the top rounded, a large metal ring for a handle. Slowly as if drawn by her own desires and perhaps something else she put out her hand and grasped the large cold iron ring. She gave a push, more unconscious than aware and slowly opened the door. It creaked and swung wide revealing a room suffused with soft amber and peach light. The room seemed to glow on its own and especially over the long dining table in the center; like the door it was made of wood and bespoke great age. And on the table she saw a groaning board of cakes and fruits, candies and sweets, custards and jellies, pies and puddings, biscuits, ladyfingers, macaroons, rich fruitcakes and petit fours. Huge platters of fruit invited. Peaches, oranges, lemons and limes, bananas, kiwis, salads of fruit, strawberries, blackberries, raspberries, gooseberries, loganberries and black and red currants.
Where am I? She said out loud.
No one answered. Was she alone? Why was the table ready for a feast? Where were the guests? She looked down and saw to her astonishment she was wearing beautiful sandals and a long silk gown in shimmering colors. A golden mirror revealed her hair dressed in plaits and loops, woven with golden thread. She saw she was beautiful. Something she had never seen before. People won’t pity me now she thought.
How beautiful I am. But am I alone? Is there no one to see me?
Stretching out a jeweled hand to take a peach she was stopped by a sound, a sort of mew, half human sigh, half slither, half song. Looking up she saw at the head of the table a large caterpillar wearing horn-rimmed glasses and a green hat.
What is your name? commanded the caterpillar.
Puzzled, she shook her head. I don’t know. I have no name, she said.
No name? said the caterpillar. Then I shall call you No name and you shall be my servant and do as I say.
She moved forward in a daze, sliced the peach and placed it in front of the caterpillar.
Thank you, No name. That’s a good beginning. He smiled. Was it a smile? She shivered but she was not cold.
