Fox O' Nine Tales: Larissa Of Foxwood

Chapter Two: Larissa Arrives in Foxwood

A Fox O'Nine Tale

By R.W. Slavin

Gentle waves of harmonious melodic chirpings of birdsong filled Larissa's head even before she opened her eyes.  She awoke instantly aware of where she was - or, at least, where she thought she must be.  She reached up to touch her face, to touch where the dream-monitoring wires were attached.  But they weren't there.  Had Dr. Gwen already removed them?  Certainly, everything must have gone really well, thought Larissa, because she couldn't remember ever waking up feeling so well-rested and feeling so good all over.  But, then again, something was strange...

     She stretched out her arms and legs beneath the blankets and shifted about to and fro.  After a moment, she realized: This isn't the hospital bed in Dr. Gwen's office.  The bed she found herself in was, in fact, much nicer and comfier than the hospital bed, even much comfier than her own bed at home.

     So where was she? 

     Despite feeling so wonderfully well-rested and despite the pleasant, cheerful song of the chirping birds that must have been coming in through some nearby open window, she dared not raise her head to look around ... for a twinge of fear of something Timothy had said to her.  "You're so different from the other girls.  You're so talented and gifted.  What if they think you're too different? What if the "dream clinic" is just a trick to disappear you off to the nut-house? That's what they do to artists they don't understand sometimes, you know!"

     Was this the nut-house? 

     Ever so slowly, Larissa raised her head and then sat up in bed to take a look around.  This was definitely not Dr. Gwen's office.  But this place couldn't be a mental institution, either.  A mental institution, Larissa imagined, would be kind of sad and cold and scary, and have that awful, sterile rubbing alcohol smell.  This place - it was a small tidy bedroom - was wonderfully warm and inviting, and it smelled divine.  Larissa had never smelled such a delightfully aromatic place.  She tried to identify the soothing mix of scents.  Sandalwood, fresh lemons, a touch of pine, and ... watermelon.  (Watermelon?! she thought, and almost exclaimed right out loud.)  Oh, and most definitely, roses!  As she looked around the small room, she could see the source of that strong scent:  vases and vases and vases of fresh roses (she adored roses!), some in colors she had never known roses could be.

     But there was something else strange here, she was slowly realizing.  Good-strange, not necessarily bad-strange.  But still, strange.

     There was something about all the amazing wood.  The hardwood floors, the hardwood walls of a different kind of hardwood, the beautifully beamed low rough-wood ceiling.  It was like a showroom model bedroom created by a master carpenter to advertise his masterful expertise.  It was, thought Larissa, like a perfect storybook cottage bedroom, right out of a fairy tale.

     That's it, Larissa decided, I'm still dreaming.

      Having resolved the mystery of her odd surroundings to her satisfaction, she swung her legs out of the bed and slipped her feet into her slippers, which were ready at bedside.  She noted that she was still wearing her favorite pajamas in this continuing dream, which pleased her, and she even put on her favorite silky robe, which just happened to be draped over a sitting chair. 

     Her investigation should continue immediately, she decided, because something in the next room smelled not only divine - but delicious!      

     Larissa pushed open the storybook door with the big black metal storybook latch and stepped into what was, of course!, a marvelously storybooky cottage kitchen.  The mouthwatering aroma of the certain delicious-smelling something was emanating from the large wood-burning stove.  She quickly donned the two oven mitts that were hanging on a peg in the wall, and popped open the metal grate of the oven to peer inside.  Several large pies were baking -- and browning at just that moment to absolute perfection.  Where's the baker? wondered Larissa. These are ready to come out!  She quickly but carefully pulled each of the five pies from the stove, and arranged them evenly on the red-checkered tablecloth of the sturdy kitchen table to cool.