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"Well, for a short while I could see colors at night, but not the same ones I see by day." (As before, this was my habitual state, so I considered this less a whale of a lie than a crooked white dove of one.) "Not as bright, eh?" "No, sir, I mean different. Can't tell ye their names, though, for nobody else can see 'em. Methinks the flies and bees can see one of em, though, for they often made straight for targets o' that color at flowers' centers. The other color, I fancy, the snakes could see. I've seen 'em strike at it. Tis a little glow what comes off warm bodies when it be too dark to see anything else. The other strange thing is, while I was seein' the two colors -- I calls 'em flowertarget and warmbody -- why, purple weren't the color next to crimson anymore. Purple were next to flowertarget, what were next to warmbody, what were next to crimson. When I stopped seeing them new colors, purple and crimson popped right back into bed next to each other." "Odd ideas, indeed -- perhaps maggots, mere fantacies, hatched by the odd experience of drinking blood? In any event, 'twould be safest not to spread your story too liberally. Should the Papists' inquisitors hear of it -- well, there be fates a sight nastier'n gettin' hanged for your sticky fingers, my dear. But do keep me informed of any other changes brought about by your singular habit; they've a society in England that dotes on scientific writing about such matters. He-heeee." |
Copyright © Michael B.Stevens, 1999, 2000, 2001, 2005. All rights reserved. Format modified Aug. 2005