The Flood is Coming or An Experiment into Surrealism

So, this is actually based on a dream I had the first night of the inclimate winter weather Louisville had a few weeks back. Some aspects of the dream really shook me up as this almost foreshadowed some elements of my life over the next few weeks. I think the story that came out of it turned out well but I was thinking of submitting this to a writing contest and would love some constructive criticism. So take a look and hit me back either on here or on my facebook. Hope you enjoy regardless.

            I closed the door strongly on my way out into an asphalt playground covered in white powder with a thin layer of frozen water in between. I couldn’t drive in such unsafe conditions so I put my legs and feet to work. The sky was bright, much brighter than normal almost as if a demi-god had my neighborhood under a microscope. Likewise, the air was thick and left a bland taste in my mouth whenever I exhaled.

            Recently, a friend had called me and wanted to hang out if I could come to his house. He didn’t seem too happy and wanted some company. He was going through a rough time in his relationship and, I suppose, needed some advice. These conversations are always better in person, and his house wasn’t too far but took some time to walk the distance. The time would pass if I could listen to music. So, I took the headphones lying across the back of my neck and placed them around the appropriate ears. I took one concentrated look at the eerie sky before simply staring off at my feet for every step I took.

            I resided close to the mall which broke up the trek. My local mall wasn’t abnormal; it was five-stories tall and had red painted bricks with azure windows that lacked any glistening qualities to make them shine. I could see the mall grow larger in my eyes as I came closer to it. Every step I took made it shake in my vision as my thoughts morphed into a fearful idea of ambiguous fright. Some sixth sense was telling me I shouldn’t be out right now, but as I looked behind me there was nothing there but a long street with a ruby red car speedy down at increasing velocity.

            The car pulled up beside me with no roof. The car was a Mini-Coop convertible with the top laid down in the back of the car. I hadn’t seen the driver for some time. She stepped out and leaned down to speak to me. I couldn’t make out her strange language or how she now dominated my past tall body. Had I shrunk or had she grown? No matter, I looked up at her expressionless face but her voice carried a tone of fear and worry. All I could make out was that the rain coming. From where and how long, I didn’t know. I was thrown into the car as we drove into the parking lot of the mall.

            In the car I realized with whom I was riding. A face from my brother’s past, I believed he dated her some time ago. I was never angry at her or understood why their relationship ended but I assume it was a good reason. We rode into the mall’s parking lot in haste. I couldn’t even recall the memory in much detail. The only detail not left in obscurity was this lady telling me, “The rain is coming. The flood is coming.” My reaction was to get to higher ground. I had to get to higher ground.

            In the mall I could we could access the roof five stories up from the ground. My driver took off in lightning speed. I paced around the bottom floor telling the mall patrons a foreboding of the coming flood. I saw people rush up the stairs and I came up behind the crowd.

            There were stragglers. I watched as two little boys, assumedly brothers, in red shirts and anonymous faces storm down the stairs in the wrong direction. I was so anxious at the time that I reached down to stop the children. I could get a grip but the older of the pair looked up at me was surprised eyes and a sense lost childhood innocence. I was stirred up to have an ability to father. I shouted, “What’s wrong with you two? Don’t you know there’s a flood coming? Come up the stairs and find your dad!” In a great fear the children followed me up four flights of stairs and out the roof access door. Immediately they rushed to their fathers sighed who hugged both of the in one explosion of relief. I turned to my left to see the young lady from my brother’s fast – never quite finding her name on my tongue.

            She handed me a strange cell phone I couldn’t figure out how to operate and repeatedly told me to call my mother. The phone didn’t ring but I knew my mom was on the line. I was panicked and left struggling for words. All my thoughts were focused on telling my mom something comforting.

            My mouth filled with water and with every ounce of effort I attempted to gargle the words, “I just hope you’re happy.” I was left with the sentence: I just hope you’re safe… as the rain poured down from the sky in buckets.

The Cocktail Party: An Exercise in Dialogue

Woohoo! I posted two stories. This is actually roughly based on a night out but I really wanted to try to have an entire story based in dialogue because I later plan on working on a script... maybe.

I’ve noticed, through my many years, that the most colorful people come out at night. I’m not saying that everyone out in the city past one a.m. is a drug abuser, but rather that these people have stories to tell, and each one is worth a listen.

            For example, last week, that cold night on Wednesday, a young man came into Frank’s Tavern. I had recently finished putting in a few extra hours at the Chrysler plant in hopes of collecting a sufficient amount of money before Christmas next week. A young man up late isn’t much of a sight, but this young man was wearing a suit- a suit that was ruffled. His tie was loosened, shirt untucked and unbuttoned, and his dark brown hair was an unsightly mess.

            Maybe he found some wisdom in my grey beard or was looking for someone with eyes looking as tired as his. No matter, I was glad he joined me for a drink. “Excuse me, sir, if I may have a Jack n’ Coke, please,” he ordered with a young, optimistic tone. His dialect was very proper. The bartender quietly nodded and began to pour. The young man was disheveled at best and his eyes, though blue, glowed with a deep redness. He gave a deep breath or a sigh, scratched the back of his head, and then chuckled when handed his drink. He gave a nod of gratitude to the bartender, picked up his drink, took a hearty swallow, and finally turned his head to observe the musky bar. What else could I do but greet my new neighbor?

            I shifted my body towards him, leaned in and asked, “Say, what’s with the suit?” I’ve been in some dramatic arguments brought on by my infamous frankness, but this young man gave the right reaction. Showing his teeth along the rim of the glass, the young man smiled and laughed. He shook his head and sipped some more of his drink. I whispered to him, “C’mon let an old fogy keep what is left of his youth by letting him hear a tale or two from the generation running this lost country. Hell, now that I think about it, you owe me the reason for the suit for fucking up my home.”

            “Sorry, sir, but it requires a lengthy story on which I would rather not dwell, and I doubt you have the time,” he argued.

            “I’m sad to admit that I do have the time. I’ll most likely stay until closing time. Besides I won’t recognize anyone in the story, and don’t we always feel better when we say what’s on our mind?” I refuted.

            “You’re persistent. Fine, but before I begin may I have the name of my audience?”

            “The name is Green, Joseph Green, but Joe will be fine.”

            “Well Joe, my name is Eric Smith. Eric is perfect also. The suit was for a party – an office party. However, why I am wearing it in here is a reason for a story. If only I could decide where to begin.”

            “I would say at the beginning.”

            A short chuckle erupted from his vocal chords and while still recovering he began to tell:

            Well now, as many stories before mine started, my story involves a woman - a beautiful young woman by the name of Holly. She is beautiful enough to knock any man back off his feet with just the right stare from her eyes. A pure penetration of perfection – that’s the only way to describe her and her gorgeous hair lightly lying on her shoulders molded with flawless skin. I’m hypnotized most by her face, particularly her eyes. Have you ever stared at the ocean for hours? That same enchantment entrances me every day. Her eyes are a deep blue just like that ocean. I’m never able to look away.

            You must know how these things go. My caring for her made me listen to all of her problems in her relationship which I didn’t much mind, but I knew the outcome. We became friends.

             Eric took a big drink of his Jack n’ Coke and asked for another glass of the same. I couldn’t tell if what he was blathering on about was exposition or tired drunk rambling in which he missed the question. Still, I continued to listen as he continued to speak:

            Don’t get me wrong. I’d rather be friends than nothing at all, but as we continued to spend time with each other the more I seemed to crave her. I controlled my addiction the best I could until recently when she came to her senses. She dumped what’s-his-face. I don’t know what finally persuaded her, but I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. The only issue was to decide how I would confess my true feelings for Holly. To be honest, I’m not a brave person. My fear will tell me every possible situation that could arise from a heartfelt confession.

            The irony is delicious! Destiny decides to pull a practical joke on Eric when Holly invites me to a holiday party. Which as you can guess was today. First, allow me to discuss the series of events leading to the party. She gave me the invitation first thing at the office last week. The party was to be at her place with pseudo-formal wear. The idea was a cocktail party for the less than rich folks. She told me how she envisioned people in nice clothes sipping wine and easy mixes while discussing politics and philosophy- something we found enjoyable to discuss. This was not an office party though as previously stated; in fact, I would be the only co-worker to attend. I felt… special; it was nice. Hmm, I think that’s what we strive for in love. We strive to feel special – that certain acceptance that only that woman, or man, can give us. Maybe that’s what I hoped for all week. I had my haircut two days prior to the party so I didn’t have that fresh haircut look and bought a beard trimmer so I could still look a little rugged, as you can see. I don’t know why, but when I freshen up and look nice I also feel nice. That feeling wouldn’t last.

            At the party-

            “Excuse me. Before we have part two of this story I have to use the restroom. So far I feel for you though,” I explained as I made my way into the back. As I was urinating I began to ponder over Eric’s story. How would I have acted differently if I were in his shoes? Did I ever have trouble confessing my feelings? After a moment I realized that yes I did, but why?

            The key is vulnerability. I believe all men desire to be bulletproof, but not for himself, but for all others. Leaders do not have weaknesses. So, when a man confessed to be emotionally overpowered by a woman he becomes vulnerable.

            This idea cannot be true in all cases. Some sly men have found a way to sap a woman of her dominance, but a philosophical man cannot have this ability. The over analytical quality of that man overpowers such a weakness as to falsely attempt to remain invulnerable- hypothetically. I would never know; a wise and poetically deep thought crosses my mind once in a blue moon.

            I stopped staring at the ceiling and urinating. I washed my hands before rejoining my partner. The break let me accumulate my thoughts on Eric’s story and on Eric as a whole. I’ve seen him before… somewhere.

            “Where did I leave off” he said.

            “You were about to describe the party,” I answered.

            “Oh,” he exclaimed:

            The party had a wonderful environment. Every decoration was classy and elegant. She decorated her house with special lighting shades and bought a new centerpiece statue of bronze swans to place on the table. The table had finger foods and tiny pastries upon which to snack. All of those elements were minute compared to what held the spotlight.

            Holly looked amazing. She was an angel in a black dress. The only question was how did she lose her wings?

            I was taken back and breathless. Her eyes radiated with the blue glow of an uncut sapphire in the sun, especially when contrasted against her black, satin dress. I wondered how much time it took for her to coordinate her appearance, because she was flawless – the perfect balance between beauty and sexiness.

            I somehow conjured the nerve to speak when she greeted me at the door. “Wow, you look lovely tonight,” I said. She laid her fingers on her heart with gratitude.

            She replied, “Aw, thank you. You look handsome yourself sir.” I both liked and disliked the use of the title.

            No matter, “Thanks,” I said and smiled thinly; I may have been blushing. Nervousness had sunk deep into my chest, from ribcage to ribcage, all through my heart. Until that point in time I had never been inside Holly’s house. We had always met somewhere or when I picked her up she was waiting. She had intriguing décor, for example, in one room she had eastern influenced lamp shades that left shapes and symbols of light dancing on the wall. Every inch of furniture in her house was polished and vibrantly shining. Obviously, she went through a lot of trouble to add ambiance to her abode. I had stood still for a moment simply to allow my eyes to take in all the details.

            Holly approached me from behind. I was startled. “My family gave me those lampshades from India on their vacation, and for an early Christmas present they had this whole house wired for a full sound system! They’re so good to me; how could I resist a party?” She switched and strolled through the living room into a kitchen that appeared to be from five years into the future. Then, as if half dancing she twirled, grabbed a remote, and turned on some Coltrane cool jazz. She knew my fondness for it and smirked because of her knowledge. She continued her steps, beckoning me with one finger, to a room further down the hall- probably the entertainment room. This is where the other guests were. There were only five at this time, mostly girls with which Holly went to college. These young ladies were not very talkative. Only the most outgoing one, a slender blonde, approached me to shake my hand and inquire as to how I met Holly. I replied with the truth; we worked together. There were no follow-up questions.

            The room felt stuffy so I decided to walk out to the back deck for some fresh air. The sky was nice and clear at the time; all the stars were twinkling and the moon was simply illuminated. The air was pure and clean. I could taste the crisp flavor to my exhalation. Finally, I was able to relax until Holly found me.

            “Wow, the weather is a lot nicer than the weatherman predicted! I may ask if people want to come out here. I have some patio furniture. Do you want to help me set up? More people should be arriving soon,” she said. I couldn’t refuse, but before I even realized the fact I had done the action. I was sitting outside sipping some nice wine. The cold made it taste better. Holly went inside to mingle.

            I got company soon enough when a man stepped outside into my vision in order to light a cigarette. He had a nice grey shirt and a head with slicked-back black hair. “Nice night,” he tells me. I nodded and mumbled an uncaring agreement. I wasn’t feeling much for talking. Yet he persisted. He persisted and endured my callous responses. He asked, “How do you know Holly?” From work. “The Sagittarius? You write editorials too?” Yes. Yes. “How do you like it there?” Just fine.

            By this point in the conversation I believe he was beginning to read my thoughts, but his cigarette was barely burning into ashes, and he continued to pick at my brain- but now more intensely. “Holly really is a lovely woman, isn’t she?” he asked. I nodded once again. “So, Eric, is it?” I stood more erect at the sound of his deduction. He ceased to talk through the side of his mouth and held the cigarette between two fingers in his right hand. With a clear voice he spoke again, “Holly’s mentioned you before. You’re her cute friend at the editorial staff. She said you were affable and she could discuss anything with you…” That last sentence was saturated with the tonality of disappointment.

            So, I caved. I more openly replied to him, “I usually am, and I can be right now. Why did you come out here?”

            He held up his cigarette as an answer before placing it back between his lips and returned to the offensive. “My question to you though, Eric, is why you’ve been avoiding everyone?” Then he took a few more puffs before discarding his cigarette on the ground as I sat back down ignoring an answer. In the silence, the nameless man proceeded back inside, leaving me back in my lonesome serenity.

            I sipped my wine peering into the skyline that was glistening with the lights of the stars and the city. I emptied my glass enjoyably, but I left the bottle inside Holly’s house. I was turning to go back inside when I bumped into a rather handsome man about my age. He had nicely styled his blonde hair and owned penetrating azure eyes, and his dress was a fantastically styled Hugo Boss suit.

            I stopped Eric, who was diving into a sarcastic tone to ask, “Did you not know this guy?” and, “What was his name?”

            He took a breath and continued:

            No, Joe, I never quite got his name, but I spent the rest of the night with him and his cronies – after I got some more to drink. All similar looking guys came out with attractive young ladies dangling from their arms and shoulders.

            Once everyone sat down I felt like a cardinal in an eagle’s nest. My ears opened to the talk of all these people taking trips to France, English, and Spain or buying new Mercedes, Volkswagens, and even a Lamborghini; oh, and someone even bought a new airplane to fly at his leisure. On top of feeling inferior financially I had to listen to full conversations in Spanish and French- at the mention of these vacations. I didn’t feel much better when Holly sat down. She and another girl were chuckling in between sentences in the French dialect. So-

            I had to stop Eric there. I put my glass down hard on the table. My voice was forceful and stern. I spoke to him staring straight into his eyes, “You mean to tell me that all of your self-pity is a result of felling like less of man at a party full of yuppies that play around with Daddy’s inheritance and feed off of old money? Son, let me tell you something! A true man isn’t defined by his money or intelligence; he’s defined by his heart and his actions.” I leaned back, relaxed, and took a deep breath I continued, hoping to bestow some sage wisdom. “Eric, you seem like you have a good head on your shoulders and a big heart in your chest. Now, we as people always strive for acceptance, but a man can’t live or die for it. I didn’t find an everlasting source until I made one, with a family. Still someday my daughter will grow up and distance herself from me. By then, I’ll learn to work harder at it; I can’t replace my daughter. People will always be people- love ‘em or hate ‘em. If you want their acceptance, sometimes you just have to worker harder, if it’s really worth it.”

            There was a silence all throughout the bar. I don’t believe everyone in the vicinity heard my long winded speech to Eric, but fate made sure Eric understood every word. I was greatly surprised when his humble words reached my ear. “Feeling left out was only one issue,” he began. “I understand and appreciate what you told me, but the party was only halfway down the mountain of disappointment. I’ve noticed that adding more people breeds and brings more problems.”

            Eric sat more comfortable as he began to finish his story: So, here’s everyone in this circle sitting down with full glasses of martinis and wines. I must have looked nervous or tense because Holly sat next to me and whispered softly into my ear, ‘Are you having a good time at all?’ My expression was forcibly transformed to appear shocked by her comment as I nodded to reassure my enjoyment. I was not comfortable with the idea of being the one who spoils all of the fun. After Holly turned her head to face the crowd she turned back to whisper, ‘Good, I really hope you can enjoy yourself. I was worried you may not.’ I felt like a jackass! She began to engage in conversation with other guests as I attempted to sink into my chair as much as physically possible.

            For several minutes I stayed in that position as if I were part of the chair. Once a moment or two passed, one of the young men began to hush the crowd. He made a grin on his face wider than the Amazon River. His dialect became smug and childish while his eyes had a glow of mischievous delight. ‘Alright, who wants to really get this party going?’ he proposed. No one answered aloud; therefore he dug into all of his coat pockets to collect a zip-lock bag of white powder, a razor blade, and a small mirror. My eyes must’ve grown double in size at the sight (as I see yours are Joe by the mere mention).

            I don’t know if ‘surprised’ is the proper adjective to describe my emotion at that moment. Would the sound be too parental if I claimed to be disappointed? In that moment I began to see the true appearance or form of everyone at the party as if they had removed or peeled away a layer of skin and underneath was some unfinished product hollowed out and the only means of feeling complete was to brag about the possessions they had or trips they’d taken or use drugs that balanced out everything.

            I had no reason to believe she wouldn’t, but I watched Holly look at the drug dealer. I wanted her to laugh at him or command him to leave. I would’ve been satisfied if she were to have simply walked away. Alas, my disappointment remained. A certain twinkle, or possible lack thereof, may have hinted that I wasn’t proud of her forthcoming choice.

            For some time all the sounds of the supposed cocktail party halted; I can now only remember flashes of the cut powder, the white lines, but mostly Holly’s face when she became tainted. All the details of her enlarged nostrils; closed, shaded eyes, and the true boniness of her flesh engulfed my memory and overthrew all other thoughts. Her beauty still existed but was overshadowed by a layer of dirt and grime.

            I spent a few minutes sitting and watching as I had been doing most of the night, but I began to feel anxious- possibly I was full of panic. Therefore, without any notice, I stood up, grabbed my belongings, and left the party.

            In my car I collected my thoughts. Did I truly know Holly? Yes, in some version or manner. Did I belong at the party? Yes, I wanted to be there at least for her. So, was the night worth all of the trouble? Yes, it truly was worth every moment. The last question is, then, why do I feel so sick to my soul?

            Reflecting on the story as a whole, I now know the answer. Let me compare mine to yours, Joe.

            I rubbed my graying chin hairs to bide some time as I collected my thoughts. Being unbiased and experience I knew what to say, “Sorry, life’s disappointing sometimes. As kids we’re raised to believe that this place is magical, and to some people growing up is accepting that magic isn’t real. Likewise, you must accept that times events happen that we think are magic and really our minds set up the smoke and mirrors. Sometimes the same is true for people.” I watched as Eric nodded as he does to agree with what someone is telling him. I hate to be the bearer of bad news.

            Eric rested his head in his arms on the bar. His expression wasn’t sad but numb. I believe all along he knew the truth but was hoping someone would tell him otherwise, perhaps give him a different perspective. I feel sometimes we ask another person’s opinion only to want a lie for a truth we already know.

            A few muffled words resonated from Eric’s arms before I shoved the boy gently to ask him to act properly. He repeated with his head raised, “I suppose the feeling is difficult to withstand when you’re heroes fall. I suppose you’re right though; now, if I want someone to act maturely then I must do the same. Here, here, cheers to you Joe and your patience, time, and ears!” He raised his last glass of the night to me. We connected our drinks to loud clank before indulging in a gulp.

            Now, Eric’s night was not over. He said his goodbye and straightened his suit, but making his way to the door his eyes fell onto a beautiful young lady shivering in a black dress. The atmosphere of the bar was offset by this overdressed, disheveled couple. He’d spoken the name Holly aloud before she took the reins of the conversation.

            I could hear her begin to explain, “After the party died down a friend of mine offered to grab some late coffee before we did some clean-up, then I had realized you had left and never told me goodbye. Who would’ve thought I would’ve found your car in the middle of my ride?” She laughed to hide her offense at his premature departure or her curiosity or both. Her eyes showed her true expression. She was hurt. She was hurt by Eric walking out, but not on the party, but on her. She leaned forward and closer into him balancing on her toes to look him straight in the eyes. “What made you leave?” she asked frankly.

            Eric was trapped. Stress constricted his body and everything about him seemed wound up and tight. After a deep breath, he took Holly’s hand and led her to a booth next to the door. They sat down but Eric never let go of her hand.

            “Holly, do you remember how you felt when you were a little kid and you found out Santa Claus wasn’t real?” Eric asked finally moving his eyes to hers.

            “Yeah, I was disappointed, but what does that have to do with anything?” she returned.

            “Well, what I mean to say is... I like you. I have for some time, but as much as I do I also don’t know if I just liked the fantasy of you. At the party I saw a side of you I never knew, and it wasn’t something that was right for me. I still -seeing you before me as gorgeous as you are and were just a few hours ago – I still do like you. A bad night at a party isn’t going to ruin that,” Eric laughed while looking at his hands cup around Holly’s. He had a sincere smile that wasn’t shown all night. Women can so easily make a man sway his emotions to her desire. I’m glad she wanted him happy.

            Holly entwined her hands into Eric’s. Her cheeks turned a rosy pink from the blushing and her teeth were a bright pearl when she smiled, feeling flattered. “Eric, you are one amazing man, you know that? Even when I let you down, you tell me that you care for me regardless. You even suffered a party to just make me feel special. I think you’d be happy to know that I don’t do that often, and the one’s who encourage that behavior, aren’t my truest friends. I am sorry though; what can I say except, ‘It was a party.’

            “However, I do like you, but I can’t offer what you are looking for right now. We still have so much going on and so much to do. I just want to keep what we have and never jeopardize it again.”

            “Well I love you and that’s all that matters and ever should,” Eric closed. They arose from the booth saying all the words left unspoken Holly embraced him so tightly that some would say she never truly wanted to let go of him. She placed a gentle and soft kiss on his cheek before walking out the door. Eric stood still for a moment after Holly left smiling to himself, possibly amazed at how much he said with so little words. He sat down beside me again with a new grin on his face.

            “Boy, she was right to call you amazing,” I said as he sat in his same stool as earlier.

            “Joe,” he said. “I’ll never claim to be amazing. I claim to be honest and happy. This is true only because I stopped running. She just found me… I love it when a woman makes the first move.”

            At that moment our bartenders traded out for the moment. Our new one was a young woman who covers the late shift of factory workers in town. She had dark hair, milky skin, and emerald eyes. She greeted Eric and me with a smile before asking us if we wanted another round. Eric and I decided against the idea.

            “Well, Eric, at least you still have a hell of a story,” I said as I rose from my stool.

            “What kind of story is that?” the lady bartender chimed-in with a curious voice.

            I began to head for the door as Eric’s and the new lady’s eyes met. I stood in the doorway walking out to hear a few more sentences.

            “Oh, nothing much, I would much rather hear about your day miss…” Eric trailed off attempting to gather information.

            “Well, look at you, charming enough to match the suit, and handsome enough to match it too. My name is Deb and it’s a pleasure to meet you Eric,” she said sharing with Eric a much deserved smile.

Alone

Wow, I went and looked over my past posts and how lacking my writing has been. Needless to say, there hasn't been any in over a year! I'm sorry to anyone this affects. Anyways, I guess I type these introductions mostly for my own sake. So, for the three people that read this I'm posting the two short stories I wrote over the summer and finally finished and typed up to self-publish. I don't plan on immediately writing anything but will post whenever I do.

I am here now, although, my recollection of how I came here is absent from my memory. Truthfully, those details are unnecessary after all the events I have experienced here. I’m not sure how, but now I am sure why I am here. This “why” is a convoluted idea. To come to an adequate understanding I will have to tell my memories from the beginning… the arrival here.

Enlightenment is a good word. My definition is the action of gaining new knowledge and understanding. This new understanding is as if a light had been turned on in a dark room. So, if one wanted to understand a room completely he or she would need to know it both in dark and in light. The dark was the abyss that once filled my reminiscences. I can still hear sounds of honking forklifts and rattling metal from the plant at which I worked. The sight though was no more than a dark grey. Outside of my dead-end career, my recreational habit drinking dizzied my dark sight. The only thing clear and bright was my childish crush on the bartender Debra.

She preferred to be called Deb; I preferred Debbie – we were both only twenty-five.

I’d spend a few nights a week walking to the bar from my apartment and chat with her. She’d show me a glistening smile laced with ivory white teeth. Maybe her smile was what attracted me to her in the first place. I could never have one on my own face. Whether for tips or for my unexpected humor she gave a girlish giggle at jokes as we enjoyed each others’ company. When she tended to other customers I would quietly watch, but as a man I would notice her fit body and milky skin out of place against the dim lighting of the atmosphere. Lights would flicker in their fluorescent bulbs leaving the place in a gloom. If Debbie became busy for too long the haze of the weak lighting and bites from the glasses of rattlesnakes became unbearable.

My apartment wasn’t much to return to by myself. Darkness encompassed the studio room and windows were strangely absent yet multiple times at night I could feel the chilly draft of the wind. If I were to try a redecoration I may have felt a small difference, but I could never muster the effort to try. I rarely attempted to turn on my lamp; seldom did I even dream when I slept. Darkness simply washed over my eyes until I awoke once again in another day of perpetual dusk.

But what good is light except to reveal the underlying layers of what is in the dark?

My last memory before my arrival was lying down in my bed. When I awoke I was here. I awoke amongst nature. I awoke bathed in light from the sun and the light refracting off the water droplets resting on the leaves. My subconscious was yelling out of fear but my consciousness just wanted to stay amongst the light.

I had to survey the area. A rush of excitement and euphoria coursed through my veins. My surroundings seemed brighter, welcoming even. While I believe most men would’ve been paralyzed in shock, I felt rather adventurous. My body felt tighter but my clothes may not have been suitable. I immediately tore my sleeves from my shirt and did the same to my leggings of my jeans.

My survey consisted of many hours hiking through various terrains. Truly, my location was indescribable. If one were to imagine the entire Earth condensed into one land mass one would arrive here. I scouted a small mountain directly north, maybe a mile or so away of where I was standing. I approached it. The mountain was a foreboding figure. The rocks forming the base were of a dark color but felt firm to grip. I did not wish to climb a mountain so I return to my arrival point.

In my scouting venture I uncovered a fair portion of the northern region so I went south aiming for at least the same amount of distance. Conveniently, I stumbled across the sound of running, flowing water. Following my ears, and soon my sense of olfaction, I was saved. Maybe I was blessed, lucky, or perhaps even destined. My eyes beheld a sparkling lake like the ground was a cup under a faucet that was the waterfall above. The waterfall was a curtain to the plateau from which it dropped. Serenity echoed from the scene as the sun danced in the setting sky. Now I only needed one thing. In my head I began to pray for shelter.

My thoughts congealed into reality. As I circled the lake behind the waterfall I uncovered a small cave. This would be my shelter; maybe all of this won’t be too bad. From inside I could truly notice wondrous details of my surroundings. The warm temperature put me at ease, and the sound of rushing water filled my ears.

I decided to bask in this environment during the remaining hour or so of sunlight. I tasted crisper air on my tongue and heard the very sounds of beauty. Melodies were harmonizing between the birds, water, and wind. The sun was setting and I gazed across the colorful landscape. I felt a sensation of being inside a painting. This feeling was followed by an even greater, powerful emotion: happiness. With a smile on my face, I retreated into my new dwelling. I made a bed of soft leaves, which may have been dirty but more comfortable than nothing, then rested. I would have a busy day when I awoke tomorrow.

 

 

I awoke early. I realized this was no dream, which actually made me smile. I believe the mere existence of more light just made me cheerful. My head shook fiercely with thoughts the entire time I finished setting camp with my hands. Satisfaction was all I felt when sharpening stones, trimming rope, and gathering wood. I also fetched edible berries and kindling. Survival did not seem hard; the island was somewhat welcoming of my presence.

Although the entire day had passed, the roughest part was behind me. My third day began with a rush of blood. My spirit and vigor was shocked to life with adrenaline. Simply put, I felt stronger. I wanted to wrestle a bear or shatter rocks, but I knew what I had to do. Today would be the day I climbed the mountain. Something from the peak kept calling me, beckoning me to join with spirits and dance at the top. I gave into the urge.

Once I approached my mountain foe, I observed a passable clearing. The beginning of my trek was possible to hike. My legs carried me as my mind wandered. A few times thoughts collected about my life before arriving here. My memories were heavy on my eyes– as if my whole life had been lived in a fog. My only sensation when those thoughts came was that of a mild fluster of guilt for not being here with everyone else. I shook my head clear like an etch-a-sketch and returned to hiking. I don’t recall who “everyone else” would be. My feet never laid deep prints, and the cool air kept me refreshed. My equipment was only a tall stick I dug into the ground to keep my footing on steep inclines.

My feet reached the end of the path, what I later figured was an hour or so before sunset. I only know now because I was able to watch the sun dip into the horizon. This wouldn’t be the end of this journey though.

I turned around leaning my head back to lay my eyes upon a glistening rock wall that shaped up into a small plateau. Again the mountain spoke to me, “Come watch from up here.” I smelt and tasted a challenge. My ego would accept any challenge that appeared. Slowly, I approached the obstacle still staring upward. My eyes locked onto various possibilities. No matter what, though, I had to start with the first step forward.

I reached my right arm up allowing my hand to grasp one smooth rock sticking out; I raised my right leg to place my foot inside an indentation. I matched my symmetry with my left side, and then I repeated the process. My muscles flexed and I began to struggle to pull my weight. No surprise that I lost my footing more than once, but my desire to reach the top lifted me up to where I needed to be. I gave all my energy at the end to drag my weight to the edge of the cliff. Exerting my soul and effort I collapsed with my back on this bed of grass laughing after escaping death on the face of a mountain.

My eyes looked onto the sky. The time was dusk, truly my favorite hour. A cool breeze rubbed against my damp skin, giving me a rather comfortable chill. My mind drifted at a peaceful pace. I noticed how bright sky was even with the sun setting. The rocks even sparkled with twinkling, dancing lights. An uncontrollable smile smothered my face as my body cringed succumbing to more laughter. Everything was as cheerful as if on holiday.

With a deep internal sigh, the kind released from the diaphragm, my thoughts became complex, all too introspective. The placid sky of purple and orange became hazy. I felt a familiar darkness, a mixture of shadows and grays. The voices of the outdoors sounded in a supple hush. This voice was different, a soft-spoken female with a pleasing voice but with a hidden sadness. “How do you feel?” she said. Her voice came from all directions. Was this a trick? Who was this?

I responded to the air hoping my voice would travel. “Actually… I’m great. I feel… at ease.” Finishing my statement, I sat up with my hands on the ground. I was startled. Somehow I had found peace here – wherever here is.

She, this voice, continued asking interrogating questions, “You look happy, but can you be so happy like this?”

While I knew she was right, my reasoning had yet to analyze the situation. I stood erect with my hands on my hips. I licked my teeth and stared off into space. This voice had altered my surroundings the darkness had eaten away at my beautiful sun-drenched sky. I caught my breath. The inhalation brought thousands of mental images. The exhalation left only one truth. “Because I’m alone,” I spoke out loud to myself. That fact was the only reason I could conjure – and it was true and the truth is powerful. I could begin to feel light warming my back, if only a little. The lady gave a sigh and that was all I heard.

The voices wouldn’t stop there. I physically heard my own voice behind me. No matter my orientation, the voice was directly behind me. It would speak, “But don’t you feel lonely? What becomes of happiness when it cannot be shared with others?” These questions attacked and antagonized me, the warm on my back faded. Instead my own thoughts paralyzed me with an arctic chill, as if to find an answer I must first traverse the harshest blizzard.

My mouth was agape, but I tried to answer. I replied, “Yes I am lonely, of course I am. However, I feel that this loneliness is rather sweet. For this is a peaceful loneliness. There are no distractions, no unnatural demands, and no responsibilities for others. I am here making due with my self-existence. As for right now, I am contempt with this. I think, maybe, we’re conditioned to need people and use them as crutches to make it through societal living. Without society, however, humans should be fine with themselves. I think…” I wouldn’t call my thoughts “beliefs”, but rather they should be identified as reasons – the only reason I could develop in regards to my attraction to being alone. This would be the reason why children want to disappear sometimes, or adults need “me time”, or why everyone has an incident of anger with no cause for it.

The voice returned with one final question, speaking with a hint of reluctance. “Well,” he paused as if he knew the answer, “if you were asked whether or not you wished to return to the world out of here, knowing you could never change your mind what would your answer be?”

“I apologize society,” I answered. “But leave me my spirit and forget the rest of the world and I’ll be fine.”  I closed my eyes to aid in trying to refrain from second thoughts. I opened them once again to behold my paradise. Golden yellow sunlight beamed down to the dirt. Colors were vibrant as birds raced across the horizon. All why’s, how’s, and where’s were superfluous questions.

Slowly going down the mountain and back to camp, I tried to take in as much as I could. Introspection is a healthy technique at times. I spent a cool night in front of a camp fire eating fish and apples. I drummed with two sticks to the rhythm of any music in my head. I felt like now I was in charge of my own life. I had ultimate freedom and perpetual bliss. I write this down to let you know that there is no fear and sorrow. However, I could still not explain the reason for this feeling but likewise I couldn’t think of a reason to leave here.

 

 

*****

 

            Debra walked gingerly across the linoleum tile late on this Sunday night in the midst of July’s summer heat. This month was the hottest in Chicago in years. Lake Michigan was fighting hard to bring a cool, watery breeze to downtown’s hospital district. Her face held an expression of hidden sorrow; she was never a person who showed a full range of emotions.

            She worked nights, so, being awake late was not bothersome to her much. Besides, when visiting someone in the hospital who has no one else there, that person tends to withhold complaints. Debra turned on the lights in the patient’s room, sat down in the chair beside the bed, and crossed her legs. One turn of her head allowed her to see the plain white walls, the window with the curtain and blinds closed, and the man there in the bed completely unconscious.

            He was breathing, but doctor’s declared him comatose. He was a regular at the bar Debra worked. She would converse with him often and smiled when he cracked a joke. She never began to notice that her shift was a little easier to withstand when he showed up to be her company. Needless to say, these past two weeks were unbearable without him. Her mood quickly changed upon noticing a strange smile upon this man’s face. Debra placed her head in her hands and chuckled.

            “You did always find a way to make me laugh,” she began. “Who would’ve figured I would’ve helped put you in here – alcohol poisoning. Ha! Still mostly your fault though. How do you feel?” She felt strange conversing with someone who was unable to reply. “You look so happy. How can you be so happy like this?” she asked with water accumulating in her eyes, but her mouth remained straight.

            She spent a significant time in silence with the only noise being the breaths both of them took. Then, as if from natural build-up in her lungs, Deb began to sing in a soft, sweet, angelic tone. Be my friend/Hold me/Wrap me up/Unfold me/I am small/And needy/Warm me up/And breathe me… With a calm crescendo she grabbed her bag and walked out the door. Her eyes were still full of water. “Good night, Michael.”