Member-only story
Borderlines 4
Chapter Four: Changes
This is a draft chapter of a novel in progress. The three preceding chapters are also here, although the first is under the title, My Unreliable Past.
Was it all Reg? Maybe his resemblance to Crowley was no accident. That night a whole lot of mud was mud. But maybe it wasn’t Reg. Maybe he was one of those who just liked to talk. Maybe it was all me.
Whatever it was, I knew it was no dream. Just prior to the change, King Crimson started-up in my head, the heavy schizoid sound moved inside. And I was there. Just like that. I slipped from one place to another. No sleep, but I was there. A place unknown. No dream. I only wished it was. There was nothing familiar. Not even a Freudian echo.
My eyes focussed on feet. At least they were mine. Even if the clothes didn’t seem so, my body felt reassuringly familiar. I was dressed in a ragged tunic, dirty and torn. The loose shift, gathered by frayed string round my waist, hung shapelessly to my knees. Beneath it, were some kind of baggy trousers. The material was coarse but not very thick. It did little to insulate me from the cold air, as I trudged, zombie shuffle forward, one foot after the other, like something mechanical and unthinking.
What the hell was happening? What was I doing here? Where was this?
