Whispering Verse

Just as recorded by Professor Drake, the poet Mr. Roland's experience happened this year, that is, in the spring of 1853.

It was a sunny day. Mr. Rowland took his notebook with him and a self-defense knife hidden on his body, and went for an outing to the wetland and lake area west of Huntington City to collect information.

Although his main occupation is as a translator, Mr. Rowland has a wide circle of friends. When passing by the apple orchard of my friend Mr. Cedric, I wandered around the apple orchard, preparing to write a short poem based on the frost on the trees in winter.

And when he came to the depths of the woods in the orchard, a human face suddenly appeared on the tree next to him. To be more precise, the lines and cracks on the trunk formed a human face:

"I know it's hard to believe, but I'm sure it wasn't a drunken hallucination."

When Mr. Roland in the tavern said this, he defended himself with a glass of wine:

"I usually don't drink when I write poetry."

Just like the fisherman in Lower Luther Village was frightened by the talking snake, Mr. Roland in the spring, even though he was more educated than the villagers, was still frightened by this strange thing.

He described to Shade his panic at the time and his desperate attempt to escape:

"I don't remember how long I ran, but I couldn't escape from the woods. Yes, I feel that I have never done anything like this since the autumn of 1850, when I was chased three streets by wild dogs. Vigorous exercise.”

Mr. Roland recalled, and Shade nodded while recording, feeling that these magical experiences were more interesting than the Lady of the Lake itself.

The faces on the tree can move with each other on the trunk, so when Mr. Roland no longer has the strength to move forward, the faces on the trunk speak again.

"It was singing, like a fairy tale. I can't describe the sound the trees made, but the song was basically asking me, when spring is coming and the winter snows are melting, what will those snows look like? Wouldn’t it look pitiful?”

said the poet, taking a long gulp of wine. The ale in this tavern is not high in alcohol content, so you don't have to worry about getting drunk.

"So what was your answer then?"

Shade asked curiously. Mr. Roland drew circles in the air with his right index finger and hummed softly:

"Snow is the messenger of winter. When spring comes, they should give up their place and let flowers and sunshine come to the world."

This statement is very similar to the poet's tone.

"And if it were you, Mr. Watson, what would you answer?"

The poet asked Xia De again, and Xia De thought for a while:

"The snow does not disappear, but turns into water, soaking the earth in the spring. It will evaporate into the sky again in the following summer, fall as rain in the autumn, and return to the snow in the winter. This is a It’s a cycle, the snow is not dead.”

Mr. Roland smiled:

"Do you mind if I write down what you said?"

After answering the question about the face on the tree, the face seemed satisfied with the poet's answer. Then the ground shook, and the trees that surrounded Mr. Roland gave way to a path around him.

Mr. Roland, who was trapped in the woods, walked along the path towards the end in fear, and saw a lake at the end.

"I immediately thought of the legend of the Lady of the Lake. Mr. Watson, I am a local. Although I am just a commoner, my family has been living in the local area for five generations. I grew up listening to local stories, and I am very familiar with it. It’s easy to think of those wonderful rumors.”

"Did you walk on the ice to the island in the middle of the lake?"

Shade asked, but the poet shook his head slightly:

"No, no, spring had arrived then, and there was no ice on the lake. However, there was a small boat parked by the lake. When I sat down on the boat, it automatically carried me and slid across it without even having to use the oars. The silky surface of the lake leads to the island in the middle of the lake where all things are flourishing."

He squinted his eyes, enjoying his memories.

Shade nodded and wrote down this matter in his notebook again. It seems that the seasons of that lake correspond to the real world, rather than always maintaining the winter appearance described by the one-eyed fisherman Mr. Grave:

"Next question, what did you encounter on the island in the middle of the lake?"

"I met a middle-aged lady wearing a white robe and holding a white oak cane. Although she was dressed very simply, I felt that even the queen in the newspaper was not as beautiful as her."

This is different from what Old Grave said in Lower Luther Village. The fisherman met an old woman.

"Did you make a wish to her?"

"Yes, but before that, she asked me to write a poem for her to praise her beauty. It was not difficult for me. Or, even if she didn't let me do it, I would still write it Poetry, her beauty is unmatched.”

The poet said wistfully.

"After I finished writing the poem, she asked me if I had any wishes. I was so excited that I was going to say 'talent', but I felt that my talent was already very outstanding. Asking for talent would be a disservice to other poets. unfair."

"Yes."

Shade secretly suppressed a laugh.

"So I ended up making a wish to the lady for luck."

He pointed to the cards next to the wine glass on the table.

"And then you left?"

"Yes, I looked for that lake later, but couldn't find it again. But this extraordinary luck did appear in me."

Mr. Roland sighed, holding the wine glass with his intact left hand, and touched it with Shade:

"It's a wonderful story, isn't it? But I don't want to share it with anyone because I don't want those greedy people to disturb that lady's peace."

Shade frowned and took a sip of his own wine. He was very satisfied with the wine that had been mixed with water. It tasted a bit like grape juice:

"I noticed that in your story, you didn't mention how your fingers became like this."

"In fact, in my memory, I can't find the reason why I am missing these two fingers."

Mr. Roland shook his head, also looking puzzled:

"It seems that they are always like this. In all my previous photos, my hands also look like this. My friends also said that when they met me, my hands were like this. But I clearly remember that I was not born with It looks disabled, so there must be something wrong with it, but I just can’t remember it.”

"Is it related to the special experience this spring?"

Shade asked, and the poet shook his head slightly:

"It's probably related, I don't know."

"Can you tell me the address of that orchard?"

"Of course, I wish you success, Mr. Watson. But don't be greedy, yes, don't be greedy."

He took out the pen from his pocket, pulled out Shade's notebook, and wrote letters one by one in his notebook with blue-black ink. This is the address of the orchard:

"The only things we can get are those things that will eventually be ours."

After finishing writing, he did not return Shade's notebook immediately. Instead, he picked out the Star 1 [Carson Rick Horror Story: Jack the Headless Horseman] from his deck, put the cards in the notebook and handed it to him. Shard:

"This is yours."

"Why?"

Shade asked curiously, picking up the Rhodes card and checking it.

Mr. Rowland shrugged:

"You did beat me. Since you don't want my money, just accept this card. You deserve it. Moreover, I think you are the kind of person who will definitely help others if you take the benefits of others. So. , please try your best to find the Lake of Cherubim and let the Lady of the Lake take back the luck from me. Yes, take it back, I really can no longer afford this luck."

Shade looked at the card of the Headless Horseman and smiled:

"I will, I promise you."

It was two o'clock in the afternoon when we left the tavern. It was probably the hottest time of the day, but in early winter, the biting wind could still make people shiver.

The Cedric Orchard that Mr. Roland mentioned is a large apple orchard in the west of Huntington City. The owner of the orchard, Mr. Cedric, is not a local, but a wealthy businessman from Willendale. The orchard and bookstore are only one of his properties.

Shade didn't want to encounter the same bad luck as yesterday, so he didn't take a detour to the east of the city to find Mr. Bernhardt and ask him to write a letter of introduction for him. Instead, he rode directly to the west of the city.

Cedric's orchard was so large that it was impossible to fence the entire grove. In addition, in winter, there were no fruits on the treetops, and even the orchard guards were not interested in patrolling. Therefore, when Shade led the horse into the woods from the east side of the orchard, near Lake Lane, he did not attract any attention. anyone's attention.

He still remembered what Professor Drake said, not to search for the Lady of the Lake, but it was actually difficult for him to control his thoughts. Last night, we encountered a pack of wolves and encountered an accident while chasing the escaping wolves, but there were no wild wolves in this forest that would mess with Shade without opening their eyes.

Walking through the forest while holding the horse, there are dry branches above your head and soft earth under your feet. Shade knew that he might not be able to find any clues if he continued walking, so he simply found a sparse woodland to stop, tied the horse to a tree, and let it eat the few remaining grasses, while Shade leaned on He sat down against the tree trunk, then took out his notebook, intending to complete the outline of the mathematics paper he planned to write.

He started writing part of it last night. If he could finish it today, he would have time tomorrow and the day after tomorrow to find Miss Sylvia for help with corrections.

The winter sunshine in the suburbs was just right. The sunshine illuminated the notebook and also illuminated the handsome young man in a black coat. He was immersed in mathematical problems.

Beside him, a brown-red horse was carrying a saddle and grazing docilely. Occasionally, he would raise his head and look into the distance, and then impatiently stamp the ground with his hoof, as if curious about what Shade was doing.

It was a very ordinary winter afternoon, and Shade was looking forward to another encounter.

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