Chapter 50 bedside story

October 1902 Concord, Massachusetts Earlier in the evening, Bailey had been exploring the maze with Poppy and Wedge.A dizzying network of chambers interspersed with walkways flanked by asymmetrical doors.Some rooms rotate, others have glowing checkerboard floors.One porch was piled high with steps, another porch was falling in flakes of snow. How could such a thing be possible?Bailey asked, melting snowflakes clinging to his coat. Poppy responded by throwing a snowball at him, and Wage just giggled. As they traversed the maze, Wedge told the story of the minotaur in detail, and Bailey kept hoping that he would encounter the monster just around the corner.

They entered what looked like a large metal birdcage, and through the bars they saw darkness.They passed through the door in the floor, which was fastened once closed, could not be opened again, and there seemed to be no other way out. They searched every silver railing, but couldn't find any hidden openings or cleverly concealed hinges, Wage stopped telling stories, and Poppy's anxiety became more and more apparent. After being trapped in that room for a long time, Bailey found the key hidden in the swing seat in the center of the cage.When he turned the latch, the swing slowly rose, and the top of the cage opened, allowing them to climb out and escape into the dim temple guarded by the pale sphinx.

There were at least a dozen doors along the wall of the temple, and Poppy found the one that would lead them back to the circus right away. She was still looking depressed, but before Bailey had time to ask her what was going on, Wage checked his watch and saw that he was going to be late for the scheduled show.The three agree to meet again afterwards, and the twins disappear into the crowd. Bailey had seen the cats back and forth so many times over the past few nights that he had almost memorized the show, so he chose to explore elsewhere on his own before waiting for them to be free again.

The path he chose to continue wandering had no apparent door, only passages sandwiched between tents painted in endless stripes and illuminated by twinkling lights. He noticed a bumpy spot between the alternating black and white stripes. Bailey found gaps in the side of the tent, slits in the fabric, dotted with silver eyelets on each side edge, and a black ribbon was hanging over his head, as if the opening was meant to be worn with a ribbon. It is easy to fasten so that the tent can be closed securely.He wondered if some circus member had forgotten to refasten it. Then he saw the label the size of a large postcard, fastened to a black ribbon the way a card is fastened to a present.The tag hangs loosely a few feet off the ground.Bailey turned it over, and the pictured side showed a black-and-white etching of a child lying on a bed covered with fluffy pillows and check sheets, not in a nursery but in a starry night sky Down.The back is white, and in black ink in elegant calligraphic script reads:

§ bedside story Twilight Rhapsody anthology of memory Please enter cautiously, you can open and close things at will Bailey couldn't see that the tag referred to a crack in the tent, or that it belonged to another tent and had been misplaced.Most tents have signs made of painted wood blocks in a prominent place and also have clearly defined or marked entrances.The tent seemed to have no intention of being found.Other patrons wandered from one part of the circus to another, too lost in the conversation as they passed, not noticing that he was scrutinizing a postcard-sized label on the side of the tent.

Bailey tentatively pulled the unribboned piece of cloth back far enough to peek inside, trying to decide if this was a circus attraction rather than the backstage of a stuntman's tent. Or some kind of storage area.He could only see a few shining points of light and the outline of furniture.He was still not sure, so he pulled the cloth far enough to get in, and stepped in carefully as the postcard instructed, which was wise, because he bumped directly into the table covered with bottles and bowls and bowls with lids , the objects clang and clang together.He stopped, hoping he hadn't knocked anything over.

It was a long room, about the size of a formal dining room, or perhaps because of the table.The table runs the length of the tent, but there is still enough room to move carefully along the edge.There are bottles and jars of all shapes and sizes, some simple glass food storage jars, others glazed earthenware or ornate frosted glass jars, wine, whiskey or perfume bottles, with Silver-covered sugar bowls and urn-like containers.As a whole, there is no particular arrangement pattern or order, just scattered on the table.Additional bottles and cans lined the perimeter of the room, some on the floor, others in boxes and tall wooden bookshelves.

The only element that is relevant to the label is the ceiling, which is pitch black and covered with miniature dots of light that sparkle and flicker, giving it the same effect as looking up at the sky outside. Bailey walked around the table, wondering how this could have anything to do with the kids in the bed or the bedtime stories. He remembered the label mentioning opening things, and wondered what might be in those jars.Most clear glass jars look empty.When he walked to the opposite side of the table, he picked up a small round clay pot with a very bright black glaze and a rounded handle on the lid.He pulled the lid back and looked inside.A small wisp of smoke escaped, but otherwise it was empty.As he peered in, he smelled the smoke of a raging fire, and a little of falling snow and roasted chestnuts.He took a deep inhalation curiously. It contained the aroma of mulled wine combined with candy, mint, and pipe smoke, as well as the refreshing rosin of cedar trees and the waxy smell of candle tears.He could almost feel the sweetness of falling snow, excitement, anticipation, and striped candy, dizzying, amazed, and disturbed.After a moment, he put the lid back on and carefully placed the jar back on the table.

He looked around at the bottles and jars, intrigued but hesitant to open another one.He picked up the frosted glass food storage jar and unscrewed the silver metal lid.The jar was not empty, the bottom contained a little flowing white sand; and what wafted from it was the smell of the ocean, of a sunny summer day on the coast, and he could hear the waves lapping the sand and the crowing of seagulls.There are also mysterious and fantasy things in it. The flag of the pirate ship appears on the distant horizon, and the mermaid disappears after flicking her tail behind the waves.Adventurous and exhilarating smells and feelings permeate the whole, with a slightly salty sea breeze.

Bailey closed the jar, and the smell and feel faded away, followed by the handful of sand trapped in the glass again. Then he picked out a bottle from the wall shelf, and wondered if there was any difference between the bottles and jars on the table and those around him, and wondered if there was some elusive classification system for these strange containers. The bottle is tall and thin, with a silver thread holding the cork in place.He pulled the silver thread away with some difficulty, and made a pop when he pulled out the cork.There was something at the bottom of the bottle, but he couldn't tell what it was.The scent wafting from the neck of the bottle is bright and floral, the scent of dewdrops and blooming rose bushes, mossy garden soil.He felt as if he was walking slowly along the garden paths, and heard the hum of bees and the song of birds in the treetops.He breathed deeper, and there were many flowers besides roses: lilies, irises, and crocuses.The leaves on the trees rustled in the soft warm wind, and the sound of someone's footsteps was not too far away from his own footsteps.The feel of the cat brushing against his legs was so real that he thought he would see the cat when he looked down, but the floor of the tent was empty, just more bottles and cans.Bailey put the cork back in the bottle, put it back on the shelf, and picked another bottle.

Tucked behind one of the shelves are small bottles with round bodies and short necks, sealed with matching glass stoppers.He picked it up carefully, the bottle was unexpectedly heavy.When he first unplugged it, he was quite confused because there was no change in taste or feel.Then, with the cool and gentle autumn wind, the aroma of caramel slowly floats in.The smell of wool and sweat made him feel as if he was wearing a heavy coat and a warm scarf around his neck, as if people were wearing masks.The smell of the campfire mingled with caramel.Then there was movement in front of him, something moved, something gray.There was a sharp pain in his chest, a feeling of falling, like the sound of howling wind or a girl's scream. Bailey put the stopper back nervously.Not wanting to finish off the experience, he put the odd little bottle back on the shelf and decided to pick another before going to Poppy and Wedgie. This time he picked a box off the table, a polished wooden box with swirls engraved on the lid.The box is covered with white silk, exuding a smell like incense, thick and mixed with spices.He could feel the smoke swirling around his head.The feeling of heat, dry desert air, hot sun and sand as soft as fine powder.There was something else besides the heat that made his cheeks flush, that feeling and the senses, like waves of seductive silky things falling and sliding across the skin.And the music he couldn't identify, was it a straight pipe or a fife?And laughter, high-pitched laughter in perfect harmony with the music.Something sweet but spicy on the tongue, a feeling that is luxuriously indulgent and carefree, yet intimate and sensual at the same time.He felt a hand on his shoulder and jumped up in amazement, letting go and letting the lid drop back on the box. That sense of sensation ended immediately, and Bailey stood alone in the tent, under the shining stars. He thought, this is enough.He returned to the sheet of tent wall, being careful not to mess with any nearby cans or bottles. He paused to adjust the ribbon hanging from the tent sheet to make it more visible, though he didn't know why he did it.Under the stars, the picture of the child sleeping on the bed faces outward, but it is difficult to judge whether the child's dream is peaceful or disturbed. He went back to Poppy and Wedge, wondering if they wanted to go straight to the courtyard for something to eat. Bailey walked and walked, the smell of caramel drifted by, and he realized that he was not very hungry. Bailey walked along the winding path, and those bottles full of mystery occupied his mind. When he rounded the corner, he encountered a raised shelf on which stood a man as still as a statue, but this one was different from the one he had seen before covered in snowflakes. The woman's pale skin gleamed, and her long black hair was tied with dozens of silver ribbons in a shawl.Her gown was white and covered with what Bailey thought was embroidered loops of black thread, but as he got closer, he saw that the black markings were actually handwriting all over the fabric.When he got close enough to read parts of the gown, he realized they were love letters, written by hand.Words expressing desire and longing circled around her waist and flowed down the tail of the dress that spread out on the platform. The statue itself is stationary, but the hands are extended outwards.Only then did Bailey notice a young woman wearing a red scarf standing in front of her, handing a single crimson rose to the statue dressed in a love letter. The movement of the statue was so subtle it was almost imperceptible, but slowly, very, very slowly, the statue reached out and took the rose.The statue spread its fingers, and the young woman holding the rose held back her temper and waited for the statue to gradually take hold of the stalk, releasing it only when it was firmly held. Then the young woman bowed to the statue and left, stepping into the crowd. The statue continues to hold the rose, the black and white of her gown making the color of the rose more vivid and gorgeous. Bailey was still staring blankly at the statue when Poppy patted Bailey on the shoulder. She is my favorite.Bobby said, looking up at the statue with him. who is she?Bailey asked. She has many names, Poppy said, but mostly they call her Secret Lover.I'm so glad someone presented her with flowers tonight.If she doesn't have any flowers, sometimes I will offer one.I don't think she would look complete without flowers. The statue gradually raised the rose to its face, and slowly closed its eyelids. How did you pass the time just now?Poppy asked as they walked away from Secret Lover to the atrium. I found a tent full of bottles, and I wasn't sure if I should go in. Bailey said: It's full of strange things. To his surprise, Bobby burst out laughing. It was Weggie's tent, she explained: it was built by Celia for him, and it was a place where he practiced recording stories.He insisted that it was easier than writing it down with a pen.By the way, Wage also said that he wanted to practice how to read people, so we can meet him later.He does that sometimes, picking up stories here and there.He might be in the Hall of Mirrors or the Drawing Room. What is a drawing room?Bailey asked, he hadn't heard Bobby mention Celia's name before, and originally wanted to inquire about that person's identity, but this fleeting thought was no match for his curiosity about the tent he had never heard of. It was a tent with blank black walls and buckets filled with chalk so you could doodle and draw everywhere.Some people can only sign their names, but some people can draw pictures.Sometimes Wage would write a little story, but he could also draw something, and he was pretty good at it. They wandered around the atrium, and Poppy insisted that he try the spiced cocoa, which was heartwarming and slightly distressing.He found his appetite returning, and the two shared a bowl of fried dough along with a pack of edible slips, each printed with detailed illustrations to echo individual flavors. They walk randomly through the mist-filled tents and encounter creatures made of paper.Like coiled white snakes with flashing black tongues, birds flying through the fog with puffed charcoal wings. The shape of an indecipherable creature formed a shadow and scurried over Poppy's boots, out of sight. She insisted that there was a fire-breathing paper dragon somewhere in the tent, and even though Bailey believed her, the idea of ​​paper breathing fire was hard on his head. It was getting late, and as they went from tent to tent, Poppy said: You gotta go home? I can stay a little longer.Bailey said.He was getting better and better at sneaking in the house without waking anyone up, so he stayed later and later in the circus as each day passed. At this time, there were even fewer customers wandering in the circus. When the two were strolling, Bailey noticed that many people were wearing red scarves.Scarves come in a myriad of varieties, from heavy twisted wool to delicate lace, but each one is a rich crimson that looks even redder against all the black and white. After so many flashes of red before him, he was sure it was no coincidence and asked Poppy about it, remembering that the young woman who offered the roses also had a red scarf. Like uniforms, she says: they are dreamers.Some people travel around with the circus.They tended to stay out later than the others, and red was their way of identifying each other. Bailey wanted to find out more about the Dreamers and their scarves, but before he could do so, Poppy pulled him into another tent, where he was immediately silenced by the sight of him. The feeling reminded him of the first snow in winter, the soft and quiet first few hours when the whiteness covered everything. Everything in the tent was pure white, there was nothing black, not even the stripes on the wall.The white glistened almost blindingly.Around the cobblestone winding path are trees, flowers and grass, every leaf and petal is pure white. what is this?Bailey asked, having never had a chance to read the notice outside the door. This is the ice garden.said Poppy, pulling him down the path.The scene changes to an open space with a fountain in the center, white bubbles bubbling from the transparent ice sculpture.Pale trees lined the edge of the tent, and snow fell from their branches. There was no one else in the tent, and nothing disturbed the surroundings.Bailey glanced at the nearby roses. The roses were cold, frozen and white. When he leaned closer, there was only a faint smell.The combination of rose, ice and sugar reminded him of the flower-shaped marshmallows sold by the atrium vendors. Let's play hide and seek.Poppy suggested, and Bailey agreed.Then she unbuttoned her coat and left it on the frozen bench, hidden by her white costume. unfair!he cried, and she disappeared behind the low-hanging branches of the willow.He follows her around trees and sculptural plants, through coiled vines and roses, chasing red hair that appears and disappears.