1 Green Fingers

Soft whisper was taking me away – up into the endless lush of different shades of turquoise and green. I could feel my body melt into that ocean of leaves. Distant voices were singing from all over, like an echo of a crystal-clear melodic lullaby.

"You're here. We've been waiting for you... Vita, can you help us?"

A sudden shrill of alarm clock pulled me out of my fantasy dream. I was lying in my bed but the splashes of green were still whirling in front of my eyes.

Vita... Was it something Latin?

I entered my password – SOPHIE. The laptop winked and gave me a blur of phantasmagoric pictures. Damn it!

I reached for the plug and a lonely pot with pitiable remains of a flower made its last leap of hope. Not my day, definitely.

I went to get a broom but when I came back, I wished I'd taken my granny's garden pruner instead.

There were no pieces of pot on the floor. And the flower – well, somehow it managed to grow a 'la "Jack and the Beanstalk" and made the whole room look like a green-house.

The green fragments started singing again. I leaned against the wall and my nails carved intricate lines – which immediately gave sharp fresh sprouts...

Let's get out of here, now!

I didn't notice a big figure of Bill, my neighbour, an old drunkard. He was holding a box of alcohol in his big arms. He swore when a good half of his treasure box broke into pieces at our feet.

"You!.."

He paid no attention to a green path that followed me – I guess he was used to the bottle-green colours of the world. I looked around, but there wasn't a single soul in the street except for a puny red cat.

Very carefully Bill put the box on the ground. I gasped when he grabbed me and slapped him in the face. That made him even more furious. Bill roared and threw me at the hunk of junk.

I passed out. For one hour or two, maybe. And when I finally woke up, an old lady in a wheelchair was stroking my hair with one hand and holding a bottle of icy-cold water in another.

"Here," she said, "drink it."

Behind her back I could see a grass sculpture in the shape of an orc fighting his shadow. I sprang back from the lady's wrinkled hand but she smiled and shook her head.

"Don't worry. That's not your fault, Vita..."

Her eyes were deep amber-green. And there was a light shade of mint in her ash-grey hair.

I got to my feet and looked at the scratches and bruises that were beginning to heal before my eyes. My fingertips were itching and there was still too much filth in this street, in this town. Someone had to clear that up at last.