Posted on December 17, 2017 by James McDonall
After a short nap I felt more refreshed. I got up and went outside where the morning was crisp, the air clean. Birds were flying in or out of the mountains – I’m not really sure. I saw a house in the distance, brown with a grey roof, and my KerDoodle friend, who was once again standing beside me, pointed to the upstairs window.
“We’re everywhere,” he said.
“Will you ever get over the flower thing?”
“With help, maybe. Perhaps if you show strength, we will.”
“What do you mean? I show strength.”
“Of course you do.”
There was something about the way he said this that I wasn’t too keen on, but I let it go.
“Do you have a name?” I asked.
“What’s the first name you think of?”
“Clive.”
“That’s it.”
Somehow I wasn’t surprised by this. I gazed off into the mountains, letting this most unusual tableau form itself around me, and I took a moment, rubbing the bump on my head, to wonder where it was all going. How long would I be able to see these fascinating creatures? Indeed, was I even seeing them at all? Perhaps it was all a dream, conjured in a Dickensian way by a bit of under-done potato. Or by a bump on the head.
Whatever it was, it was very realistic, and once again I scribbled what I saw.
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