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 Huntingdon City.
Although his main occupation is a translator, Mr. Roland has a wide range of friends. When he passed by the apple orchard of his friend Mr. Cedric, he 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 hallucination caused by my drunkenness."
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 who 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 will melt, what will those snows look like?
Wouldn’t it look pitiful?”
The poet said, taking a big gulp of wine. The ale in this tavern is not high in alcohol content, so there is no need to worry about getting drunk.
"Then 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:
"Snow does not disappear, but turns into water, soaking the earth in spring. They will evaporate into the sky again in the following summer, fall as rain in autumn, and return to snow to cover the earth in 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 to be 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.
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 at that time, 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 paddle.
The silky surface of the lake is heading towards the island in the middle of the lake where vitality and all things are blooming."
He squinted his eyes, enjoying his memories.
Shade nodded and wrote down this matter in his notebook again. It seems that the seasons of the 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. This is not difficult for me. In other words, even if she doesn't let me do this, I will 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 a little confused. 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 finally made a wish to that lady for luck."
He pointed to the playing 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 and 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 this condition.
He 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 belong to us."
After finishing writing, he did not return Shade's notebook immediately. Instead, he selected the Star 1 [Carson Rick Horror Story: Jack the Headless Horseman] from his deck, sandwiched the cards in the notebook and handed it to
By Shad:
"This one belongs to you."
"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, then accept this card. You deserve it. Moreover, I think you are the kind of person who will definitely help others after taking advantage 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, which is probably the hottest time of the day, but in early winter, the biting wind can 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 Willondale. The orchard and bookstore are just
One of his industries.
Shade did not want to encounter the same bad luck as yesterday, so he did not take a detour to the east of the city to find Mr. Bernhardt and ask him to write a letter of introduction for him, but rode directly to the west of the city.
The area of Cedric's orchard is very large, and it is impossible to surround the entire forest with a fence. In addition, in winter, there are no fruits on the treetops, and even the guards of the orchard have no interest in patrolling, so Shade
When he led the horse into the woods from the east side of the orchard, near Lake Lane, he didn't attract 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, he encountered a pack of wolves and encountered an accident while chasing the escaping wolves, but this time
There are no wild wolves in the woods that would mess with Shade.
He led the horse and walked through the forest, with dry tree branches above his head and soft earth under his feet. Shade knew that if he kept walking, he would probably not find any clues, so he simply found a sparse woodland and stopped, leaving the horse behind.
Tie him to a tree and let him eat the few remaining grasses. Shade sat down leaning on the tree trunk, then took out his notebook and planned 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 to 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.
Next to him, a brown-red horse was carrying a saddle and grazing docilely. Occasionally, it would raise its head and look into the distance, and then impatiently stamp on the ground with its shoe, as if curious about what Shade was doing.
It was a very ordinary winter afternoon, and Shade was looking forward to another encounter.