The Dream Inside the Darkness.

  *****

  A shiver runs up Jessie's spine. I need to get out of here. His mind begins to race in time, his heart, not his or hers.

  A swirling wind erupts encompassing him. A tornado engulfs its victim back to the bloodstained room. There is no animal, only the maiden, a spirit, or sprite, needing him to see it all, wanting this to end.

  "You do not have to fear me, but do not bring Jude here!" she says. "What you have been experiencing are small horrors compared to what I, and others before me, have withstood. Challenged by entities trapped here, fighting to exist. Sweet pleasures mixed with sorrows sunken deep into the soils. You don't want to sink with them. If so, you too will be trapped inside a pen, your head, or worse... someone else's body. Look before you, see inside that clouded mind of yours what came, what went, what has been, will be, or that which you cannot see here and now."

  The bathroom he stands in is now spotless of the filth seen earlier in the evening. Six rubber duckies floating in the tub are no longer gray and bleak. Instead they shimmered in the light full of color: one Red, one Orange, and one Indigo. An odd pigment for a child's toy, he thought. The remaining three ducks were black, lacking light.

  "I wonder if these have any significance to them similar to the flowers I saw in the hallway." A Psychology of Colors would tell him exactly what they represented, if the colors did, in fact, hold any meaning. What bothers me the most is... who cleaned up the mess that was here before?

  "Am I hallucinating what I have witnessed?" he asks the girl as he turns expecting to see her beside him where she has been. She is no longer there.

  "Huh." Whoever she is, she always seems to take off when I have questions I want answered.

  Descending to the living area, everything is clear without interference by spirit or images. The last time he knew of this place it had been an old, rundown cabin. He'd never entered the property the way he was led in. The mansion quite confused him. How and why is it switching back and forth?

  Reaching the bottom of the steps, his pack lies to the side in a new location, he scoops it up, judges by the weight nothing has been removed, and refuses to make a big deal out of it. It's not astonishing with all that has happened, and probably will.

  "Where are you anyway, Ghostly Sprite, Grandfather, Grandmother? What is all this that is going on? Symbolism? Mysterious clues? Why not just come out and tell me what's occurring, or what has happened?" he asks, and then advances to the Oriental rug to sit.

  Jessie always carried certain books just in case instruction was ever needed. People continuously judge me for being such a nerd, but times like these make me proud.

  Pulling out A Psychology of Colors from his pack, his brain begins to swarm with ideas to research: The ducks in the tub, the ducks in the pond, feeding ducks, and colors of ducks, what are ducks?

  Duck, Duck, Goose! They had screamed, running around the circle. Laughter as one fell and the other tagged the next victim, but that was a game. It had nothing to do with the animal itself. Maybe it is simple: Children had come in, or teens filled the tub with water placing the ducks in it to give it a creepy look.

  Lying back against the couch, he opens his pack to find his notepad to make a list of the ducks, their colors, and locate their definitions. I need to figure out the symbolism of ducks. "Let the writing commence, and with any luck I'll have no interruptions," he states to himself, opening the book to start.

  A Psychology of colors: Red: - A warm positive color that can be associated with the will to survive. It may give confidence to those who lack it, empowerment, and awakens a physical life force. The negative side of the color is anger, or revenge.

  Orange: - The positive view of this color is Social Communication and Optimism. Negative is a sense of pessimism and superficiality.

  Indigo: - Represents intuition, idealism, structure, may become ritualistic, and or addictive.

  Black: - Hidden, secretive, the unknown, keeping things bottled up inside. Protection from outside emotional stress creating a barrier between it and the outside world, it can be a tool of power, and control. Radiates authority, but creates fear. It may absorb negative energy, or signify an end and new beginning.

  All of the colors have something to do with what has been going on in the dwelling. Positive warmth drawn from goodness the family had transported with them upon entering the home, then the power his grandfather had tried to keep out, but had only kept it in trapping it inside the enclosure in which he saw the twisted vision.

  The idea of rituals and structure took place when Jessie was a child: When to eat, sleep, and bathe. The idea that one should follow instructions of some kind, the way things should be not as they are. Addictive actions repeated over and over to keep one safe while in the end it would only destroy them.

  Radiates authority, but creates fear. That line seemed like it was a part of his grandfather's personality. He held barriers that were between himself, his grandkids, and Jessie's father.

  Night is beginning to fade, dawn is pushing through. It would soon be light enough to leave. He had no cell phone to call Jude, or anyone else to let them know what had been happening. He wonders if they are worried about him.

  Music is playing; a sort of singing that resembles a Native American lullaby.

  Setting down his book, notes beside him, he follows the semi-sweet haunting melody towards a stack of old books, aiming to search through them. Most of the volumes contain pictures of ducks, breeds, where they live, and what they ate. This is just what is needed! The most-important thing would be to know what the animal symbolized.

  Stretching out his body from the long sitting, his eyes meet the area near the top of the bookshelves. Sculptures of ducks sit in lines of decoration. Squinting his eyes to see various rows of Mallards, and female ducks. One in particular stands out amongst the rest. There is a scrawling on the wing, but it's difficult to make out.

  "Darn it, I'm really tired of being short," he says, kicking a footstool in front of him, making it fly and break against the barrier opposite of where he lingers.

  Anger and frustration once again take hold. He slams his back against the paneling, then pushes the shelf so all of the ducks tip, plunging off of it. Lucky for him, they are all made of wood so they do not shatter as they hit the rug.

  "Respect, young man. You must have respect for my things! It is nonsense that your mother lets you get into such mischief. First your sister with those painted flowers of hers, now you and my ducks... It is understandable that children wish to examine, explore, and learn but you must ask first before going after objects that are not your own," said his grandfather.

  Jessie had wanted to find a toy, but nothing was in sight. He had gone looking for something that would make Sissy smile after the outrage Grandfather had put her through.

  Jessie picked up the inscribed duck out of the pile, shaking the memory from his head. It took him a moment to make out the word. "Keelan." His grandfather's last name.

  Odd that they would use only this, he thought, turning the duck around to examine it.

  The duck is maple wood, with the face, eyes, and feathers intricately carved into the grain. The sculpture had used no paint or false materials. It is simplistic. Looking at the bottom, Jessie finds more writing. "Freedom, walking on earth, swimming in a sea, and rises eternally between heaven n earths we see."

  There is no signature or reference for the words quoted. It is pretty easy to figure out that the statement is talking about the duck itself. Jessie picks up the mess of ducks heaped on the floor, observing the amount of ducks here are the same as in the tub earlier that evening. He puts them aside in a safe spot where they will not be harmed or broken.

  "I'd hate to piss off Grandfather's spirit if it's still around, and vengeful," he says. He writes the inscription in his notebook and starts packing up his things.

  How had that night ended, the night of his sister's party? Where had his family gone? Disappeared into thin a
ir, had they run like fools from all the madness in this house? The insanity the spirit had been revealing to him during the night as he attempted to figure out what had happened?

  After all, he had only wanted a college party out of the deal figuring that the old place would be perfect to celebrate his graduation. Jude had even agreed when Jessie mentioned it weeks ago. He'd been looking for no mystery to solve. Then he had run into memories of his past overlapping the present circumstances in his life.

  Who, or what, felt it was so necessary for him to figure it out?

  The door to the mansion lay open. "Go," a voice warns him, "Go while you still can!"

  He feels in his pocket for a Jolly Rancher but instead pulls out some crumpled pieces of paper. On it, written in his grandfather's handwriting, it reads: Duck, duck, Goose.

  Jessie had been a goose.

  "Do not stay behind in these dark shadows. Move forward, discover the truth, let yourself free fall," speaks the girl spirit. "Keep traveling light, rise above between Earth and Heaven. Move on to the glorious pond with the rest! You are not safe here," she says.

  Shrieking the ghostly girl continues behind him as he puts his pack on his back and races out of the cabin.

  "What the heck?" he says as he takes one last look to see the building change shape from a farmhouse, to a cabin to a mansion, then back again. A cycle of enchantment he has not ever before seen.