It was a bulrush.
He did not laugh; the absurdity was so distressingly unnatural. The
horror of finding a bulrush where he had expected a polished
cane—this hideous and appalling detail held the nameless horror of
the nightmare. It betrayed him utterly. Why had he not always known
really that the stick was not a stick, but a thin and hollow reed…?
Then the cane was safely in his hand, unbroken. He stood looking at
it. The Nightmare was in full swing. He heard another door opening
behind his back, a door he had not touched. There was just time to see
a hand thrusting and waving dreadfully, familiarly, at him through the
narrow crack—just time to realise that this was another Nightmare
acting in atrocious concert with the first, when he saw closely beside
him, towering to the ceiling, the protective, kindly Figure that
visited his bedroom. ln the turning movement he made to meet the
attack, he became aware of her. And his terror passed. It was a
nightmare terror merely. The infinite horror vanished. Only the comedy
remained. He smiled.
He saw her dimly only, she was so vast, but he saw her, the Ruler
of the Other Wing at last, and knew that he was safe again. He gazed
with a tremendous love and wonder, trying to see her clearly; but the
face was hidden far aloft and seemed to melt into the sky beyond the
roof. He discerned that she was larger than the Night, only far, far
softer, with wings that folded above him more tenderly even than his
mother’s arms; that there were points of light like stars among the
feathers, and that she was vast enough to cover millions and millions
of people all at once.
Moreover, she did not fade or go, so far as he could see, but
spread herself in such a way that he lost sight of her. She spread
over the entire Wing … .
And Tim remembered that this was all quite natural really. He had
often and often been down this corridor before; the Nightmare Corridor
was no new experience; it had to be faced as usual.
Once knowing what hid inside the rooms, he was bound to tempt them
out. They drew, enticed, attracted him; this was their power. It was
their special strength that they could suck him helplessly towards
them, and that he was obliged to go.
He understood exactly why he was tempted to tap with the cane upon
their awful doors, but, having done so, he had accepted the challenge
and could now continue his journey quietly and safely. The Ruler of
the Other Wing had taken him in charge.
A delicious sense of carelessness came on him. There was softness
as of water in the solid things about him, nothing that could hurt or
bruise. Holding the cane firmly by its ivory handle, he went forward
along the corridor, walking as on air.
The end was quickly reached: he
stood upon the threshold of the mighty chamber where he knew the owner
of the cane was waiting; the long corridor lay behind him, in front he
saw the spacious dimensions of a lofty hall that gave him the feeling
of being in the Crystal Palace, Euston Station, or St.
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