Arthur to Gatty on any day I remember nothing.

Only flashes; the past is a dream that I have just woken up from. A mellifluous river of memory, tinted a different color at each bend. My writing-room... my elder brothers spiteful, curling smile... these memories of my childhood are dyed, dyed a heavy maroon that stains the sweeping meadows of my youth. Then the time between boy and man... a pale, uncertain blue. Not unlike the sky that I would gaze up at as I bellowed at the heavens from the top of my hill, begging them to set me on the path I desired... Yes, the path that I took. My memories become a dark and full green, like the leaning forest, as I focused on the challenges that each new day brought, paying the future no mind. The most dizzying colors of my past are the lemon yellows and flickering ambers that wash warmly over the walls of the manor house. Those were days of love, both for who I was and for the life I was living. I am on my hill again, looking out over a shining world. Below me I hear a voice the color of fresh snow. The sound spirals into my nostrils and yawns in my head. The ground heaves beneath my feet. That is where my dream ends. I long to return to colors and lights that fill my memory from night to night, world to world, and thought to thought. My world is wreathed in a shadow blacker than ink. BY YOUR ARTHUR