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Blackwood, Algernon, 1869-1951

"A Prisoner in Fairyland"

A deep calm brooded over the mountains; but
within the calm, and just below the surface in himself, hid the
excitement as of some lively anticipation. He expected something.
Something was going to happen. And it was connected with the children.
Jimbo and Monkey were at the bottom of it. They had said they would
come for him--to 'find him later.' He wondered--quite absurdly he
wondered.
He passed his cousin's room on tiptoe, and noticed a light beneath the
door. But, before getting into bed, he stood a moment at the open
window and drew in deep draughts of the fresh night air. The world of
forest swayed across his sight. The outline of the Citadelle merged
into it. A point of light showed the window where the children already
slept. But, far beyond, the moon was loading stars upon the trees, and
a rising wind drove them in glittering flocks along the heights....
Blowing out the candle, he turned over on his side to sleep, his mind
charged to the brim with wonder and curious under-thrills of this
anticipation. He half expected--what? Reality lay somewhere in the
whole strange business; it was not merely imaginative nonsense.
Fairyland was close.
And the moment he slept and began to dream, the thing took a lively
and dramatic shape. A thousand tiny fingers, soft and invisible, drew
him away into the heart of fairyland.


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