“For helping us track them.” The avian words sounded like a hiss. “They took our children from us, and we’ve been chasing them for so long. But now we know where to go. You can feel them, and through you, so can we. Your dreams can guide us.”
Hudson was surprised how it seemed to make sense. He had always suspected he was alone, that the dreaming and imagination that distracted him during math problems, that made his mother so worried, that gave him nightmares swirled out of some purpose. Hudson had not known such avian creatures existed, but he had always suspected one person understood the powers that tugged at his mind.
“Uncle Mark felt the monsters too.”
“He did, but not like you. You can also find them; and when you find them, you’ll also find your uncle. You’ve been looking for him in all those pictures. Our tent can take you there. But you have to be brave. You have to trust us. Can you do that?”
Hudson suddenly realized his stomach no longer bubbled. His anxiety popped, and then vanished.
“I’m ready.”
The avian face appeared pleased. “Then sit down and just imagine. That will be enough to take us there.”
The performer with the gray-feathered face strode to the gong and took up the giant mallet. Hudson leaned his head into the bean bag and smiled at the creature, whose arms easily drew the mallet back before striking the gong with a reverberation that made the tent’s walls shimmer. Hudson swooned as electricity tickled through his socks and made him giggle. He looked through the overhead aperture and there saw the gymnasium’s rafters ripple and fade into a dark sky brimming with stars. The gong’s hum lengthened, and the stars rotated. A flash of light made Hudson blink before the stars grew long tails of light. Hudson felt no rush of speed. The tent did not shudder. No wind tossed his hair. But Hudson knew all the same that the tent had launched him between those long stars overhead.
Hudson wondered if any of his classmates had seen the tent exit that gymnasium. If they had, would they tell him the tent rose on a long plume of fire, or tell him if the tent had simply vanished. Hudson reminded himself that those questions could wait, and so he turned his full attention onto the simple act of imagining.
Hudson grinned. Someone finally needed his drifting mind.
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The Tent in the Gymnasium Page 7
