Dream-Town

by

Drake Beardsley

Dream-Town lay beside the river, secluded and covered with green moss, hidden by giant trees where the water never sparkled. At Dream-Town the trees stood like knarled old men with bent spines, leaning across the silent stream and embracing. Only one building in Dream-Town: an ancient hollow log, filled with dank smells of rotting wood and animals. Yellow water-snakes lived in the log, but they never bothered the metal box.

It could not have been Dream-Town without the box. Covered with red flaking rust it had been found along the river. Small hands had placed it within the hollow log, and thus was Dream-Town born.

Once the box sheltered a dead robin until the smell became unbearable. The gentle hands then dug a tiny grave in Dream-Town and buried the bird under a cross of twigs. As the hands grew larger the box became the archives of Dream-Town: a single pearl bead, an empty perfume bottle and lingering smell sealed within, a rotting strip of red silk, a small piece of white lace, and a score of other things.

Dream-Town stood at a bend in the river, and its collection had all been found washed ashore or caught among the cattails which lined the slow moving

stream.

David Perkins, mayor and sole inhabitant of Dream-Town, was wading among the cattails looking for tadpoles. Seemingly about twelve, he wore a loose-fitting denim shirt and faded blue jeans rolled up above his knees. Today the tadpoles were too fast for him. He became discouraged finally and decided to return home. Then he saw it: a piece of brown cloth wrapped and twisted around a strand of cattail. With great care he untangled the material, fearing it would tear.

Finally freeing the cloth, he waded ashore and spread it out on the ground. A look of complete puzzlement crossed his face. It appeared to be a sock, yet was much too long and made of some flimsy almost transparent substance. David gingerly wrung the water from it, shoved the soggy mess into his fishing kreel and started for home.

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