Filled with panic, he scooped up the box and ran wildly for the cabin. He bolted inside and slammed the door behind him. Breathlessly, he leaned hard against the door for several minutes, perhaps expecting the skeleton to rise from its musty grave and follow.
His teeth chattering despite the warm weather, he finally moved from the door and lighted the lamp. His gaze fixed on the metal box, and suddenly the fear returned. It wasn't the box that frightened him, rather the sudden realization that his father had committed that skull to its grave. He had to get away to run!
He quickly blew out the lantern, then, remembering the cloth hanging over the stove, he took the dry, fluffy material and wrapped it around his neck like a scarf. Holding the lamp in one hand, David scooped up the box and dashed outside.
For an instant he stopped on the porch, looking out across the familiar moonlit meadow to where the grave lay. The bleak cabin, the squeaking gate, the waterpump all were now part of the past. He would never return-could never return here again. His future was in Dream-Town, or maybe somewhere beyond.
Then he ran into the woods. He could have found his way to Dream-Town blindfolded. Once there he would be safe. He increased his speed, running and leaping like a frightened deer. Jagged rocks slashed his bare feet; he did not feel them. Low-hanging branches scratched his face and David tasted warm blood running over his lips.
Finally, he arrived at Dream-Town, collapsing over the hollow log, panting and breathless. He lay there for many minutes trying to regain his composure. Soon the soft smell of Dream-Town filled his senses and he felt secure; at last he was home again.
He took a match from his pocket and lighted the lantern. The wind had died suddenly, leaving only the stillness of Dream-Town where frogs croacked softly. He put the lantern on the moist ground, then turned up the wick. Strange shadows leaped and danced in Dream-Town. But they were not frightening shadows, for David feared nothing here in his forest home.
Taking a large rock, he finally broke the box open. A sigh of disappointment escaped his lips; it contained only papers and he could not read. On top of everything was a stack of envelopes, neatly tied together with a brittle, pink satin ribbon. Now beginning to rot with age, chunks of the ribbon fell off as David gently untied the packet. For an instant he could almost remember this very same satin strand, then he lost the memory as a strange compulsion hit suddenly. He smoothed it out gently and then tied it around his head.
Returning his attention to the box, he continued going through the papers. There were several legal-looking documents, one which bore a tiny human footprint. Then finding a faded photograph, he held it close to the light and gasped in wonder. It was a picture of Pa made years before when much younger. Pa was wearing a fine black suit, a proud grin covering his face.
Then a puzzled expression crossed David's face. Pa had his arm around another person, the like of which he had never seen dressed in what appeared a long white nightgown, the person much shorter than Pa. But the hair! That was the strange part. The creature had long shoulder-length hair, and lips darkened with some substance. As David stared long at the photograph he realized that this strange-looking individual had a certain delicate and majestic beauty never before seen. Pa, and even those men with guns, their faces were
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