The Best of Our Past, the Worst of Our Future by Christi Nogle

Author:Christi Nogle
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: horror; gothic fantasy; dark fantasy; flame tree press; creepy stories; Ramsey Campbell; dark suspense; horror fiction; cosmic horror
Publisher: Flame Tree Publishing
Published: 2023-01-05T13:38:12+00:00

I Entered Veda’s Dream

In little sister’s dream, the house is hers free and clear. Veda’s grown into herself. Strong, vivid, she hugs tight, holds my hands

(flush-faced, gushing)

in welcome.

* * *

Puddles in the dirt driveway, vines over the house’s face. Dogs and neighbor children play in the sprinkler. Veda shows off goats in their fine clean space, chickens, rabbit houses. Veda breathes deep country air and swings us back around for a proper entrance.

Cool front rooms so dark I barely catch glints of peacock, cobalt, red; a flash of crystalline tile; good books behind leaded glass. My eyes, not half adjusted, squeeze shut as we approach the back, which has been broken open and transformed into

(a hush, a slow approach)

a sunroom.

* * *

The glass is clouded, spotted. Mold on frames behind exotic plants – no two alike. Humid, soft light. The kitchen’s somewhere under here, too. Veda will clear things and get me some lunch.

“Thou preparest a table,” I say.

Veda sways, moves deftly.

I sit at a bistro set, run a hand over fine mosaic, its image somehow

(a sun-face, a flower, a butterfly, all at once)

indecipherable.

Veda sways. Scents come on a sudden movement of air. She’s cooking her favorites.

I drink in the beauty all around me, start to speak of how I’ve been. There’s no real content to what I say. The me in the dream is a grown-up, thirty or so. I ramble about a gorgeous someone and nights at the theater.

Children run shrieking and dogs barking through the front rooms. Little sister Veda calls to be careful. I remember being just old enough to yell the same to her when she played with her little

(only she didn’t have friends)

figments.

* * *

The sprinkler-damp dogs and children chase through our space and turn back. They’re outside now, and on the table before me, favorite foods glisten in bright painted dishes.

I am happy here. Little sister is happy. All is well.

The day goes long, but it does end. We watch the sun set, watch the fireworks, the stars. We fall asleep talking over a movie, curled in nests of fur-like blankets in front of the fireplace. The dogs sleep on the floor all around us, keeping us safe.

But the dream doesn’t end.

Another day. Time for errands. We walk into town and spend long hours browsing. Anything we want, we can have.

Another night. The movie has no content. Veda struggles to keep her eyes open anyway. I don’t see a point to being here longer. Time’s too slow.

I wouldn’t have thought it possible to grow bored of a dream.

I came here just to see how Veda was doing. I have my answer. Time to go.

* * *

Another day. Neighbor children return to play in the new swimming pool.

“When are their parents coming? When’s anyone else coming?” I say.

“I thought it was awfully nice with just you and me,” says Veda, stirring her Icee.

Another night, another day, another

(week, month)

night.

* * *

“I really must be going,” I say, wishing myself somewhere else. I pinch myself

throw myself

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