Prelude: A Dream Up North

The lad tosses and turns in his bed.

The past few nights have been chilly. Snugged in the comforter like a larva in its cocoon, the sleep should have been good - at least peaceful.

But it is not so.

The specter commences its nightly attack. The images flash before him once again. In their black and white form, they invade the inner world of the mind, blurring representation and reality. One moment, he is like a bird looking down at the river and its two familiar structures. The next moment, he finds himself at the river-bank, examining the partial ruin of one of the pair.

It has been an ongoing struggle since that day but the attack only intensified recently. The words of the adroit writer still ring in his head, the image of sunset with people whistling a familiar tune.

He has tried to exorcise the ghost by blogging, not once but twice. Twice, he blogged about it.

But it is only vicarious.

********************

The lad sits on his bed. It is over, at least for tonight.

He wiggles to the edge of the bed and puts his legs onto the floor. The surface is still warm, from his feet just now. So he hasn't been sleeping, just battling with the demon in his mind.

But the battle will be over soon.

He walks to his desk a few steps away. The room is unlit but the yellow plastic file stands out among the contents.

He caresses the cover, the paper inside untouched. The lad breathes a sigh of relief - the paper will be well-protected rain or shine - and mentally thanks the adroit writer for his advice.

The papers inside are like gems to him. They will follow him to battle almost a thousand miles away.

He looks for their companion, a dark pouch sitting nearby, and relishes the thought that in 48 hours time, the first battle would have been fought with just the three of them, him included.

********************

Some of the papers inside the file. A "sneak preview" of what's to come.