The Path

Chapter Seven

"I can't stay for long today I'm afraid, so just time for a quick poem. I think we'll have one by Wordsworth. Do you like, Wordsworth? I like Wordsworth and if you don't, you'd better wake up and tell me so... I wondered lonely as a cloud that floats on high o'er vales and hills... "

I'm standing before a lake, the still surface reflecting the sunlight and making me squint. Around the shore line, brilliant yellow flowers stand proudly as a lone swift dives through the air high above on its scythe-like wings. And then I see him. Standing at the end of a small jetty, instantly I feel warmer, less alone. He waves, gesturing for me to come to him and I begin to walk, but speed up quickly, until I am running flat out, yet no matter how hard and fast I run, I am no closer to him. If anything, he seems further away. His smile begins to fade and the sadness in his eyes mirrors my own. He beckons a while longer, but then I watch helplessly as he turns away and walks off along a path disappearing into the woodland. The sense of cold isolation returns.

"Seeing as I think you enjoyed Wordsworth so much, how about this one? One summer evening (led by her, I found a little boat tied to a willow tree..."

I hear a bell and it's not my alarm clock or phone. The ringing bashes around my brain, like a steel ball in a pinball machine, but it doesn't stop. Something isn't right.

Open your eyes.

I can't. My eyelids feel heavy and lifeless. The ringing sound begins again.

Move, dammit! Come on, move.

I try again and finally they open, just enough to let in a blinding white light that stings. I shut them, but a return to the darkness doesn't help the rising panic in my gut. My heart is thumping so hard I fear it'll bruise against my ribs.

What the hell is happening to me? Where am I?

With every remaining ounce of effort in my body, I will my eyes to open and stay open. Peering through the pain, I welcome the tears that have sprung, their moisture making the process of blinking feel less like dragging my eyelids across sandpaper.

Everything appears blindingly fuzzy, but slowly shapes come into focus and as they become less distorted I realise that I'm looking up at a ceiling. Paint is flaking off in large curls and a tea-coloured water stain is directly above me. The stain is roughly the shape of Australia. If I wasn't so scared I would probably find that comparison funny.

"Well, hello there."

I hear a female voice not far from me.

"Welcome back."

A young woman leans over me. A pretty face, she wears a frilly net cap and a warm smile.

"I bet you're thirsty."

She raises a cup to my mouth and a little tepid water moistens my lips. It has a strong chemically taste. Not unpleasant, just apparent. It trickles down my throat and dribbles down the side of my mouth.

Suddenly aware of just how thirsty I am, I gulp it down.

"Take it slowly, we don't want you choking, do we?"

She is kind. One of the kindest voices I've ever heard and it makes me sad for some reason. My eyes well up again and tears begin to run down my cheeks, meeting up with the water dribbling from my mouth.

"I think that's enough for the time being. Let's see if we can sit you up. Don't worry if you start to feel a little sick. It's only natural for someone who has been lying down for such a long time."

I'm in hospital.

She puts one arm beneath me and lifts me to a more upright position. Pain shoots across my body and I cry out.