Welcome to Gaia! ::

Emerwyn heard his soft, muffled voice, and knew at once it was not the Cat. She wondered if he was hidden under the covers.
The scraping sound slightly troubled her, but there was no turning back now.
Tentatively, slowly, she turned the doorknob, and pushed the door open.
"Hello, Julian! I don't know if you remember me... I'm Emerwyn." She smiled warmly.
She started to walk inside, but only took a few steps, and left the door open. She didn't want to invade...... and she was scared of closing the door.

Emerwyn looked around. She saw the stains on the floor, but tried to ignore them. A little sick feeling came over her, however.
She steeled herself, and slowly closed the door.

His thin sickly frame reminded her of her own, yet there was something plainly different about Julian's physical condition. Something that you couldn't express in words, or quite put your finger on, but it was there all the same.

"Um, yes," Emerwyn hoped that that memory wasn't too painful for him... But if it happened often... "Speaking of which," the hand holding the bookmark - and the poem - trembled. "That night, you left your - your bookmark in the cafeteria. I wanted to return it." She didn't lift her hand up. All of a sudden, giving him the poem didn't seem like such a great idea.

His hospitality calmed her down, and she was able to remind herself why she was here. Because she had concern for this young man. Maybe the company of a friend could help him.
"Thank you. Just some water would be lovely." She sat down in the chair, relaxing a little.

She clutched the bookmark tighter still.

Emerwyn, caught up in her own inner struggle, did not notice Julian's limp. She accepted the water gratefully.

"Funny - so have I. I needed some time to sort out my thoughts. Ironically, by the time I came out of 'hiding' I was more confused than when I'd gone in..." Halloween seemed to be a 'breaking point' of sorts for many people. "But - I felt I should come and see how you were feeling. The last time I saw you..." she trailed off.

The last time I saw you, you weren't you.

Not so bad? Emerwyn choked back the exclamation. He didn't even seem very confident when he said it. His other personality seemed to have him by the strings.

She decided to try and make conversation. And the only thing Emerwyn could have a conversation about was books. And what book did Julian seem to know better than Alice?

"So, I take it you've read Alice more than once. It was a favorite of mine growing up... and, in fact, still is." She wasn't lying.

Emerwyn laughed lightly.

She looked at the tattered edition. "That's what we call a 'well-read' book. Of all the books I've discussed in my reading group, this was one of the most intense. Do you know, we spent an entire afternoon arguing over the Hatter's riddle 'Why is a raven like a writing desk?' It went on for hours." She laughed. She had found her comfort zone. This was good. It should be no problem giving him the poem now.

Provided, of course, nothing goes wrong....

"Ah, yes. But nothing beats what Carroll said. You know, the riddle was never actually intended to have an answer. But he was being pestered so much, he made one up..." She racked her brain for it. "You see, it's so complicated, I can't even remember it." She laughed.

"Do I love books?" she wanted to laugh again. "I was the owner in part of a small bookstore in NYC. I spent my entire life reading, shut away from the beautiful English countryside for twenty years..." she sighed. "Instead, I saw, felt, smelled, and ran through all the colorful worlds in my books... I wonder which was the right choice... Oh," Emerwyn woke from her ramblings. "Sorry... I guess there are just some things people get passionate about..."

"Children's books? That's sweet. I do some writing of my own as well..."

She fidgeted with the poem, which was now damp, if ever so slightly. Her hand had been clamped so tightly around it.

"... mostly poetry. I haven't really written much since I came here, mostly little scraps of verses... Except-" Her other hand hesitantly helped the first to unroll the poem from the bookmark.

She reached her arm out to Julian, the poem in her hand. She looked at him with sincere eyes.


What happened to the boy?
He seems to have gone away.
If only I'd met him,
If only he'd stayed.
What is this dark shadow
That o'ercomes him now?
It's all I have seen
Yet, through it somehow
I see something hiding.
Someone is there
With eyes like the green grass
That seem to stare
Into your own soul.
Where you find that, you too,
Are hiding yourself.

Oh, where is the boy?
I wish I could find
A key to open up
The door to inside
So that he may know
We are still here.

Oh, boy, if you hear me
Please, let me know
Call out my name.
I wish to show
You that you're not alone.
I'm here, and whatever
Is there, in your head
Is not you.

I wish that the boy
The one I don't know
Would come outside
To live and to grow.
I wish I could reach him.
I wish I knew how.
But it seems it's with him
That the battle lies now.