Writer Unblocked

Afterglow

By Rachel H Grant

Emily gazed at the pink sky, trying to find meaning in the meek rose tones. The colour lit a hope in her heart, a sky of secrets and solace.

It reminded her of her favourite picture, Afterglow by Joseph Farquharson. A painting profound in its simplicity.

That night she dreamt that she was in the painting, walking on the crisp soft snow and facing a pastel pink sky that beckoned a far off day, a new beginning, a better destiny.

A rabbit grazed ahead, unaware of her presence. The sun shone on fur that glowed like gold. It felt like a dream, the rabbit could not be real.

But of course, it was a dream.

She walked slowly towards the rabbit, hoping not to scare it. Finally, it looked up, staring in to her eyes with golden pools of knowing.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” said the rabbit wordlessly, the words appearing in her mind.

She stopped, shocked. And then reminded herself that this was only a dream.

“It’s not only a dream,” said the rabbit. “At least, not for me. I am Fiver. You may know me from the Watership Down children’s novel.”

Emily stared. “Fiver is not real, this is all in my mind.”

“Nonsense!” snorted the rabbit. “I am as real as you. What do you think happens, when an author creates a character and hundreds of thousands of children read his book, believing the story? It creates us, that’s what! The collective power of thought makes us real. And where do we go? We live in a dream world, a space between your thoughts, a place beyond the reaches of normal time and space. And sometimes others join us, like you, just for a little while. But unlike you, I cannot awake from this dream.”

“So how long have you been here?”

“Time is meaningless here. I wander here and there, in some ways I am free but in other ways I am a prisoner.”

Emily sat down on the snow. It did not feel cold in the dream. She began to talk to Fiver in earnest, a conversation surely deep but one which faded away in the reality of dawn.

Emily awoke the next morning clutching her hot water bottle as though it were a toy rabbit resting on her heart. Fiver’s golden eyes appeared in her mind, and then were gone.

A few weeks later Emily was walking through a local wood, perhaps looking for a reminder of the dream she could not forget. Then she saw it. A rabbit. He turned and looked at her with deep golden eyes, then ran off. Quickly, she followed.

They arrived in a silent glade. But there was something wrong. A figure lay collapsed on the ground. Emily ran to him, quickly establishing that he was breathing and then placing him in the recovery position. An ambulance on the way, she sat down with the man to wait.

The rabbit had disappeared. The paramedics arrived shortly, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

She never saw Fiver again, although she came back to the wood many times. Her dreams were empty too; each night she prayed to visit the dream wood again, but it did not happen. She remembered his eyes that day: was he begging her to follow him? Did he know about the man? Was the rabbit even Fiver?

So many questions unanswered. Years passed. She had forgotten all about the Watership Down rabbit.

She lived a good life, finally ending in a pleasant nursing home at the age of 98. Each night she lived the dreams of the elderly: memories from across her life accosting her, some sweet, some bitter. Her body grew tired. One night she lay down and was asleep instantly. She was there again, in the Afterglow painting. Memory pricked her subconscious brain. She had been here before.

Slowly she walked through the crisp soft snow. A rabbit appeared before her.

“I have been waiting for you.” The words appeared in her mind like magic. “I knew one day you would return.”

Emily smiled. For some reason, she felt at home. She was dreaming, and she was in her favourite painting. In a room far far away, her aching body breathed one last time.

“You are free now,” said Fiver. “Just like me.”

A figure appeared ahead of her. “I am Mr Farquharson.” Emily’s smile grew deeper. She had woken in a magic world, and would never sleep again.

She walked towards the man, gazing at the pink sky, trying to find meaning in the rose afterglow. The colour lit a hope in her heart, as she walked deeper in to the dream.  Far away, a painting hung silently in an art gallery, keeping its stories secret forever. A pink afterglow lit up eternity. Peace reigned in a world that could not die.