Read Online Dust by Arthur G. Slade - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Arthur G. Slade
Tags: Fiction, General, People & Places, Horror, Paranormal, Juvenile Fiction, Fantasy & Magic, supernatural, Canada, Depressions, Missing Children, Depressions - 1929, Saskatchewan, Saskatchewan - History - 20th Century, Canada - History - 20th Century, Droughts, Dust Bowl Era; 1931-1939
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wrung her dress, stared at the mirror, and whispered, "I saw Matthew."
CHAPTER TEN
A mass of murmuring bodies shuffled into the bright light of a burning sun. They shaded their eyes, squinted at each other. Robert felt they were walking out of some imaginary place into the real world. Or perhaps it was the opposite, and they had just stumbled onto a strange planet devastated by a war with the sun. It burned your skin, the fields, everything under its gaze. Maybe the real world, cool and inviting, was back inside the theatre?
No one wanted to leave the front steps: they leaned against the railing, plugged up the passage. Some even turned around as if to go back inside. Robert was jostled by elbows and purses. The stink of underarm sweat wafted in the air. He wished he were taller, then maybe he wouldn't smell it.
Uncle Alden squeezed in beside Robert and his parents. "What a snake-oil trick," he hissed quietly, "all smoke and mirrors."
Robert's dad remained silent, pulling Robert by the hand, guiding him through the crowd. Then his grip loosened and Robert looked up. His parents were gone, swallowed by the mass of people.
Robert stepped over feet, around legs, and got too close to the war widows. One reached out to pull him to her bosom or do something equally frightening, so he ducked and launched himself into the forest of arms and legs. He figured he'd be able to spot his parents from the other side of the street.
Escape was only inches away. He watched his step, avoided several more elbows, and finally bumped into a heavyset man in a suit.
"It's all for nothing," he heard the man announce hoarsely, "all of it."
Robert knew the voice. He looked up to see Reverend Gibbs, hunched over holding his side. People avoided him as though he were a big stone in the middle of a field
"It's futile," he said.
"What?" Robert asked him. "What did you say?"
The reverend raised his head revealing wild, red-rimmed eyes. Robert had once seen a stray dog crazy with rabies, and its eyes had looked like that. Gibbs blinked, and his pupils remained dilated.
"Who's there?" he said.
"It's Robert Steelgate, sir."
The reverend blinked again, recognition lighting up his face. "Robert. Hello. It's ... it's good to see you."
"Why is it all for nothing?" Robert asked. "Did you see something in the mirror?"
The reverend's upper lip trembled. "You be a good boy," he whispered. "Stay close to your parents now. Remember your brother. Keep close and God will watch you. He will."
Reverend Gibbs stumbled past Robert and limped down the boardwalk, his feet thumping on the wood.
"Sometimes faith breaks," a gentle voice said. "It's always a pity."
Robert started and whipped around to find Abram standing there, watching the reverend head up the hill toward the rectory.
"You've caught my interest," the man told him.
"What?" Robert looked for his parents. Everyone seemed frozen and silent, as if they had been turned to pillars of salt.
"You represent something. I don't know exactly what." Abram leaned closer. He smelled of lemons. "I do have a very important scientific question to ask you. It would help immensely if you answered truthfully. You do want to help, don't you?"
Robert was confused. What could Abram possibly want to hear? He nodded solemnly.
"Good." Abram's eyes became the only thing Robert could see. Flecks of gold swirled through the man's pupils. "Tell me what you saw in the mirror today."
Robert's limbs froze. Only his lips moved.
"Nothing," he said, "just darkness."
Abram narrowed his eyes; a line creased his forehead. "Nothing? But I know everyone sees something; it's only human. That mirror is the ultimate development in the science of mesmerism. To look at its reflection is to look at your own desires. Your needs. But some can see farther. Into other places. Are you sure you didn't see even a shadow, perhaps? A man on a battlefield? A message from beyond?"
Robert closed his eyes. His heart was racing, his throat dry.
CHAPTER TEN
A mass of murmuring bodies shuffled into the bright light of a burning sun. They shaded their eyes, squinted at each other. Robert felt they were walking out of some imaginary place into the real world. Or perhaps it was the opposite, and they had just stumbled onto a strange planet devastated by a war with the sun. It burned your skin, the fields, everything under its gaze. Maybe the real world, cool and inviting, was back inside the theatre?
No one wanted to leave the front steps: they leaned against the railing, plugged up the passage. Some even turned around as if to go back inside. Robert was jostled by elbows and purses. The stink of underarm sweat wafted in the air. He wished he were taller, then maybe he wouldn't smell it.
Uncle Alden squeezed in beside Robert and his parents. "What a snake-oil trick," he hissed quietly, "all smoke and mirrors."
Robert's dad remained silent, pulling Robert by the hand, guiding him through the crowd. Then his grip loosened and Robert looked up. His parents were gone, swallowed by the mass of people.
Robert stepped over feet, around legs, and got too close to the war widows. One reached out to pull him to her bosom or do something equally frightening, so he ducked and launched himself into the forest of arms and legs. He figured he'd be able to spot his parents from the other side of the street.
Escape was only inches away. He watched his step, avoided several more elbows, and finally bumped into a heavyset man in a suit.
"It's all for nothing," he heard the man announce hoarsely, "all of it."
Robert knew the voice. He looked up to see Reverend Gibbs, hunched over holding his side. People avoided him as though he were a big stone in the middle of a field
"It's futile," he said.
"What?" Robert asked him. "What did you say?"
The reverend raised his head revealing wild, red-rimmed eyes. Robert had once seen a stray dog crazy with rabies, and its eyes had looked like that. Gibbs blinked, and his pupils remained dilated.
"Who's there?" he said.
"It's Robert Steelgate, sir."
The reverend blinked again, recognition lighting up his face. "Robert. Hello. It's ... it's good to see you."
"Why is it all for nothing?" Robert asked. "Did you see something in the mirror?"
The reverend's upper lip trembled. "You be a good boy," he whispered. "Stay close to your parents now. Remember your brother. Keep close and God will watch you. He will."
Reverend Gibbs stumbled past Robert and limped down the boardwalk, his feet thumping on the wood.
"Sometimes faith breaks," a gentle voice said. "It's always a pity."
Robert started and whipped around to find Abram standing there, watching the reverend head up the hill toward the rectory.
"You've caught my interest," the man told him.
"What?" Robert looked for his parents. Everyone seemed frozen and silent, as if they had been turned to pillars of salt.
"You represent something. I don't know exactly what." Abram leaned closer. He smelled of lemons. "I do have a very important scientific question to ask you. It would help immensely if you answered truthfully. You do want to help, don't you?"
Robert was confused. What could Abram possibly want to hear? He nodded solemnly.
"Good." Abram's eyes became the only thing Robert could see. Flecks of gold swirled through the man's pupils. "Tell me what you saw in the mirror today."
Robert's limbs froze. Only his lips moved.
"Nothing," he said, "just darkness."
Abram narrowed his eyes; a line creased his forehead. "Nothing? But I know everyone sees something; it's only human. That mirror is the ultimate development in the science of mesmerism. To look at its reflection is to look at your own desires. Your needs. But some can see farther. Into other places. Are you sure you didn't see even a shadow, perhaps? A man on a battlefield? A message from beyond?"
Robert closed his eyes. His heart was racing, his throat dry.
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