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Blackwood, Algernon, 1869-1951

"A Prisoner in Fairyland"

'You want
smoothing down. I'll see to that.'
He had the feeling, as she said it, that his being included the entire
Pattern, even to its most distant edges where it fastened on to the
rim of the universe. From this huge sensation, he came back swiftly to
its tiny correspondence again. His eyes turned to study her. But she
seemed transparent somehow, so that he saw the sky behind her, and in
it, strangely enough--just behind her face--the distant Pleiades,
shining faintly with their tender lustre. They reached down into her
little being, it seemed, as though she emanated from them. Big
Aldebaran guided strongly from behind. For an instant he lost sight of
the actual figure, seeing in its place a radiant efflorescence,
purified as by some spiritual fire--the Spirit of a Star.
'I'm here, quite close beside you,' whispered the tiny voice. 'Don't
let your sight get troublesome like your size. Inside-sight, remember,
is the thing!'
He turned, or rather he focused sight again to find her. He was
startled a little. For a moment it seemed like his own voice speaking
deep down within himself.
'Make yourself at home,' it continued, 'you belong here--almost as
much as I do.' And at the sound of her voice all the perplexities of
his life lay down. It brushed him smooth, like a wind that sets rough
feathers all one way,
He remembered again where he was, and what was going on.


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