The House on the Borderland

A FABLE BY MIRIAM GARDNER

I LIVE IN A STRANGE HOUSE. | CALL IT THE HOUSE ON THE BORDERLAND.

ON ONE HAND THERE STRETCHES THE ORDINARY SUNLIT WORLD OF EVERY DAY. ON THE OTHER HAND THERE STRETCHES A SHADOWY WASTE. SOME WRITERS, FACILE WITH EASY PHRASES, CALL IT A "TWILIGHT WORLD" OR A "WELL OF LONELINESS" OR SOME OTHER STRANGE AND COLORFUL NAME.

"A SOFT AIR FANS THE CLOUD APART; THERE COMES A GLIMPSE OF THAT DARK WORLD WHERE I WAS BORN."

I HAVE TRIED TO LIVE IN THE SUNLIT WORLD. I FIND THE LIGHT HURTS MY EYES. THE BRIGHTLY COLORED MEN AND WOMEN OF THAT WORLD LOOK AT ME STRANGELY. THEIR LANGUAGE IS A STRANGE LANGUAGE TO MY EARS. CAN VENTURE AMONG THEM MASKED AND MANTLED AS A PRETENDER; UNMASKED THEY WOULD DRIVE ME FORTH WITH STICKS AND STONES AND HARSH WORDS.

WITH GROPING STEPS I EXPLORED

AND I HAVE LIVED IN THE SHADOWSs. FURTHER AND FURTHER INTO THE DARKNESS.

GREAT ROBED AND HOODED FORMS WALK THERE, LOOMING, DISTANT AND SILENT, STRANGE AND ALIEN. THE FLOWERS AND THE COLORS ARE DIMMED AND FAMILIAR, LIKE SOMETHING KNOWN IN CHILDHOOD AND RECOGNIZED WITH TEARS AND LAUGHTER AND JOY OF HOMECOMING. I KNOW THIS TO BE MY WORLD, MY HOMECOMING, MY LIFE.

BUT LIKE PERSEPHONE, I HAVE EATEN OF THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS OF THE OTHER WORLD, AND IT TUGS AT ME WITH A SHARP, IMPERIOUS COMMAND. | WALK IN THE DARK WORLD, UNDER THE MOON OF HAPPINESS, AND I HEAR IN MEMORY THE SOBS OF A FORGOTTEN CHILD, AND SEE THE BESEECHING EYES OF THOSE UNDER THE SUN I LOVED.

I WAS VERY YOUNG WHEN I LIVED IN THE SUNLIGHT. I DID NOT KNOW THE SHADOWS WERE MY WORLD. AND SO UNWITTING | TASTED THE FATAL SEEDS; AND FOREVER, FOREVER, THE EYES AND VOICES AND CRIES OF THOSE | WOULD LEAVE ALONE IN THE STRANGE SUN MUST PULL ME BACK. AND SO IN THE DARK WORLD OF MY HAPPINESS | MUST WALK LIKE ABLINDED STRANGER,

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