"Mary Rosenblum - Color Vision" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rosenblum Mary)

“It’s made out of dead trees.” Cris’s lip kind of curls. “This is its
true-shape.”

“Okay.” Jeremy’s frowning. “But how come I could skin my elbows
sliding down that rock wall and then, when we all climbed over, I look back
and yeah, it’s the old haunted house, same as I thought it was?”

“Because I wasn’t there anymore and neither was Zoroan.” Cris
frowns. “I don’t know why you saw it in the first place, Melanie. If you can’t
see the true-world?”

I shrug, still a little mad at him. Actually, I saw the apple tree first, I
remember now. And then I noticed the wall. Which is kind of weird,
because the tree is leaning on the wall. I remember that I went for a walk in
the woods that day, feeling pretty sorry for myself. The In Crowd again. And
I was walking along and thinking about my mother and the fun stuff that had
happened when she took me for walks in the woods, and how I wished my
dad would talk about her. And I saw the apple tree and wanted to pick some
of the blossoms on it. And I was still thinking about her when I no-ticed the
wall and climbed it and . . . well, you know the rest.

And you know ... I wonder if maybe . . . maybe the world hasn’t
changed. Maybe it’s me. That it isn’t that I can’t see the Shy Folk and the
unicorns and the people in the trees that I remember. Maybe ... I just don’t.
I mean, you tell people about meeting a unicorn or one of the Shy Folk,
they think you’re lying or crazy. I wonder if maybe I started, well. . .
believing them? That I was crazy? Like deep down inside?

And that makes me sad, like I’m betraying my mom or something.
And it’s not like Dad ever said that it wasn’t real. He just said not to talk
about it. But maybe that made me listen too much. To the people who said
it didn’t happen. Jeremy’s going on about magic and what Cris sees that he
doesn’t, and I’m not really paying attention. I’m just feeling sad and looking
out into the darkness of Jeremy’s yard.

Only . . . it’s not darkness.

Oh, crap.

“Look.” I grab Cris’s arm. “Look there. Can you see it? No . . . there!”
Silver. Powdered razor blades. The owl we saw before suddenly darts
down through the darkness, hooting urgent green, circling the tree.

“Look at what?” Jeremy blinks. “The bird?”

Cris looks blank, too.

“Mr. Teleomara . . . Zoroan.” All of a sudden I’m freezing, shiver-ing.
“Can’t you see that silvery stuff over there by the house? He’s out there.”