BY MICHAEL HALDAS

I climbed the stairs in the lonely house and walked down the darkened hall.

A deafening silence, thick and profound, a mixture of fear and of awe.

Artwork and paintings, and many shut doors, ornate and carven in oak.

Hard to define the feelings they stirred and the thoughts they seemed to provoke.

Familiar yet haunting, like something I’d dreamed, as a child a long time ago.

Walking into a deep mystery and something it seemed I should know.

Soft padded steps, each one that I took, led me back to my youth.

One of these doors and the room just beyond, held its own secret truth.

The invisible voice that said up the stairs, I’d find what I needed to find.

“Last door on the left. You must go alone. And leave the others behind.”

The morning salt air, the buzzing of bees, the rich green of the well maintained lawn.

The grandfather clock and its comforting sound, the light of the soft morning dawn.

These pleasantries now ceased to exist, swallowed by this long corridor.

The laughter of friends, the shared morning meal, all of these things were no more.

Masks on the walls with empty eyeholes, staring at me with each stride.

The moment I passed each one of these things, I felt like I wanted to hide.

I came to the room and opened the door, three windows and wall to wall books.

Right in the middle, a large ornate tome, I wasn’t put off by it looks.

Brown leather bound, and smelling so old, I knew it what I was I had sought.

The door wouldn’t shut, despite all my tries, and made me a little distraught.

I undid the clasps and opened the book, handwritten and beautiful script.

I began to leaf through each crisp spelling page, its language I couldn’t decrypt.

Illustrations and runes, but at last a plain page, written in words that I knew.

Scarlett and gold, ancient and old, and many words written in blue.

“You must say them three times before the clock chimes, and rings its bells at high noon.”

The voice has instructed and and now I deducted it wasn’t a moment too soon.

I said all the words deliberately slow, one time, then two and then three.

The room became vivid, awash with new color, and I realized that now I could see.

I heard soft heavy footfalls, barefooted walking, I turned with my heart thumping.

Nowhere to go, I waited in panic, expecting someone or something!

“You!” I cried when he finally appeared. And ran forward with warmth and delight.

“Don’t touch me,” he said. And I was no longer dead. Surrounded by a new light.

I obeyed his command and could barely stand. His presence too much to bear.

Smells beyond smells, light beyond light, and a softness of new morning air.

“The Master is calling and we must meet him now.” And more words I couldn’t describe.

But it suddenly made sense. The years that had been, and I lived because I had died.

The dream finally ending. The term was now closing. An end at last to this day.

A new book to find. New chapters to read. And time for the long holiday.