The Sanctuary Chronicles - Part 3

Part 3 Continued- (sections 12 through 20)

SANCTUARY

-12-

There is a smoldering mass up ahead. There is only one home on the shore to my

knowledge and that would be the home of my friend John James. The house is

burnt to a crisp. My friend and his wife are gone forever. Hours go by. How did they die?.....The ashes that were once their bed yielded the impression of two chard forms, side by side motionless. There is no one to call for help. What help could anyone render? The place is so remote. John James liked it this way. There is nothing left. I buried the remains. I could not be more down.

Time to move on. I am without direction at this point. An ocean in front. A mountain behind. Endless shoreline to my left & right and not too friendly skies above. Bilious cumulus nimbus clouds with ominous intent stretch down ready to hammer me at any moment. No shelter in sight. Nothing salvageable from the fire as the rounded edges of night surround me in utter darkness with the blackest clouds I’ve ever seen. I might have to dig a hole…..to what end I don’t know….but I had better get to work. The wind and sea picked up from out of nothingness into a war against nature. I was, and am, too small to be factored into this equation so I found the nearest rock to crawl under and called it sanctuary. Earth and sky tested the limitations of gravity. Morning and night past by without notice. What world was I in now? There are no words….There are no feelings…..If only I could suck on a mild cigar or juices of a nice woman to bring me back. Is there anyone left in this world? My hunger is running away with me. Get out of the hole Trent? You will die if you do nothing.

SANCTUARY

-13-

Perhaps there are clams by the shore….Perhaps a coconut or 2……or I might find a stick to hit a fish with…..Perhaps my luck could change….

The storm, as everything else in life, passed. Something in the distance caught my eye…..I know…. that is….I think I know…..something moved…..I saw it….It looks to be about 2 miles off going east on the shoreline. What is it?

The goal of the day is to get beyond this sad area and to get something to eat. If my eyes are playing tricks with me so be it. I will follow the apparition to the end.

The way back home is not going to be easy. I refuse to return via the mountain. A handful of small rock formations jutting up out of the sea bed just ahead of me look promising. Looks like mussels and crab surprise. I break them up against the rocks and down them as the tasty little treats they are. I can now move on at a quicker pace with no time to waste. The new plan is to survive. My other plans have failed so I wonder if it is a good idea to even have a plan. If only I could have someone to talk to other than myself. I’m not convinced that I always give myself the best of advice. The time to deliberate is over. My path is set. The shoreline must end somewhere. I know this is not an island but it could be a peninsula and at worst it will lead back to civilization or death. Ad utrum-que paratus, (prepared for either event.) I can’t remember if I turned the lights off in the laundry room at home. My electric bill should be the last of my worries but the mind is a connecting organ and so on it goes.

SANCTUARY

-14-

Not much meat on the crabs by the rocks. They were small and too few but something is something. There were more mussels so one problem resolved and several others to go. Starvation is not on the menu for today. The object that I witnessed is getting closer. I’m getting closer to it or it is closing in on me or both. It or they exhibit erratic movements. Odd movements like a bird moving in a chaotic wind or an animal struggling in a fight. As we meander towards each other on this disjointed beach way, going in and out of sight of each other, as the dunes roll up and down in the shifting sand and the curvature of the shore moves the landscape from side to side, cut, and reshaped by tides and storms, as I wind around the vegetation and dodge the oncoming waves, never losing complete sight of it…my goal….Whatever it is…..I’m closing in on it. A form takes shape. It is human. It has limbs flailing about as if in a dance or trance…..I hope that I am not about to encounter another strange stranger. He now perceives me, looks startled, looks…..normal….calm…..for the moment….but looks are only looks. I stop, wave, and proceed. He looks at me with a dead statuesque directness. Large black eyes stare back at me and drill through me. His left eye brow turns up, sharpens a critical gaze directly into me as he says, “Sebastian.”….. “Yes”, I think, “You are.” (What other name could you be?) I do not respond to Sebastian immediately. I am stunned at his directness. I have not heard a human voice for some time. It seemed alien to me. I should be overjoyed. I am overwhelmed. I told him I was Trent but I didn’t come across that way. I told him I was lost. He believed that. We were off to

SANCTUARY

-15-

a good start or what might be construed as a start. I told him I was from another part of the land. “Indeed!” he said. He told me he was from another land. He was on the beach to do his morning regiment of exercise when our paths crossed. He seemed to be alright with the distraction of my intrusion. The status quo had not been broken. A natural curiosity struck up in the form of conversation. I told my story. He told his. I asked for directions. He had none to give as he too is a stranger in a strange land. We smiled and moved on. He continued in his pattern and I in mine. Continuing on West the coast turned a sharp right to the North. My confidence and solitude restored, I will be travelling inland now, and Northerly as a result of a dirt road emerging from the underbrush punctuating that direction. Thick jungle like vegetation with lush twisting and winding'sunfolded, mapped out the new green and orange world, revealing it’s majesty but not it’s secrets. At times the reddish orange road was not visible to the eye but my feet would anchor in, feel their way, and plow through the greenery. No more bugs for me. I’ll take my chances on berries or known fruit and I think I might be ok if I run across a snail for a snack. Sebastian was kind enough to give me a leather bag of water and some sun seeds to see me on my way. I fear this place is not conducive for sleep or rest so I have a hike in front of me. The good news is it is on stable flat ground. The bad news is it is infested with snakes and other nasties. I’m making my way back home. I don’t miss my cell phone. I have enough distractions to keep myself occupied. I never realized how staying alive could be such a full time sport or full time job. The

SANCTUARY

-16-

significance of which will be in the after thought if I should survive or not. Cogito ergo sum, (I think therefore I am.) One of the ancient ones from another place and another time crafted that thought that now lives on with a life of its own.

Every day is a good day for living and a good day for dying. For having gone so long and wide in the world things should be settling into a smooth rhythm. Even conflict has its limits. I feel good. I feel strong. I am also poor and lost but I won’t let that dampen the moment. Nothing is going on so nothing is wrong…A sound….another sound….moving at me at great speed……What the..?!

Something on the order of a magnitude 8 earthquake lifted me from my feet and tossed me like a broken doll through the canopy greenery. I landed over there….no…over there….North, South, East, or West…..I’m still dizzy so I’m still guessing…The thunder under my feet was a rogue boar. If I had a knife I would make a ham sandwich out of the son-of-a-b***h. Well…since I’m on my back, I might as well make the best of the situation and get some rest. The wild pig moved on. I’m alone again. Good for me. Let’s hope it stays that way. I had no intentions of staying the night in this dangerous jungle but in for a penny in for a pounding. I’m beat. My feet are beat. The day is evaporating before my eyes into a gray black haze. Nothing new under the sun…just us mortals trying to sink into sleep….and a prayer for good measure to keep the spirits away.

To my surprise a new day is dawning all over the place. I’m alive…Not to place too fine a point on it. The matter at hand, that is, being not just lost, but lost from the

SANCTUARY

-17-

road, of being turned around by the pig, and not just turned around but removed from the road, is making this a green maze nightmare. I find myself not just lost but double lost, lost inside of being lost. There is no road in sight. I simply pick a direction and let my shoes do the rest. After a time the landscape changes in front of me. Taller trees appear. A hard wide ground opens up ahead. Walking becomes easy. A clear path comes in to play. I take advantage of it and the new freedom. My water supply is gone. The seeds are done. There are no stores in sight as usual. Apathy is great. It cheers me up as I sink into my morbid abyss called self awareness. I just don’t care. If I had emotions they were lost as well in the entanglement behind me. I can pretend now. I’m on the beach….soft yellow sand….on a linen pillowed lounge chair…. my chateaubriand and cognac at hand….my naked young lady fondling herself….and calling me onward. I smile and close my eyes for a reality check. When I open them I plow into a large red wood tree bleeding from the forehead and collapse there in pain….So much for pleasure….trust me, its way over rated. Eye on the prize Trent…Eye on the prize. How much further can it be? There has to be an end. I’ve been told the Earth is round. I like a good rumor. Can I just get off and try again? Thank you. Up we go. Off we go. There’s still plenty of road to traverse. I’ll try to keep quiet as I go. I’ll try to keep my thoughts to myself. I’m running out of memory anyway and I have very low voltage in general. You know what they say about people who talk to themselves….well for starters….they shouldn’t. The day has turned into a mean

SANCTUARY

-18-

day. It is way too long and the road is too too far. When will it end? Keeping myself together is no small task. I can’t even stop. The first thing I’m going to do when I get out of this mess is crawl into my bed at home, crawl under the covers, and stay there for 2 weeks. I might not even wake up.

SANCTUARY

-19-

From a small jungle like world to an expansive landscape full of monster size trees in no time at all. Could this be progress? Could I actually be getting somewhere or is the subtle fallacy embodied in this situation bringing out the fallacious reasoner in me? There are landmarks and roads and not as many hidden dangers from what I can surmise. To facilitate my adventures speedy conclusion I locate the highest point, climb the tallest tree, and try to scope out civilization. There is smoke in the distance. It is coming from an area that looks promising. As luck would have it, it is remote, with no direct passage, and staggering obstacles to overcome. Tomorrow is another day if it comes. Camping can be fun.

No food….water….shelter…tools…weapons …fire….light….It can also not be fun. I see mushrooms but…. I don’t know……I’ve never been much of a gambler. I have a stick and a sharp rock that I picked up on the shore a while back. Maybe a lizard or something recognizable as diner might walk by. Without matches or a fire to cook an animal I don’t know if I can bring myself to eat raw flesh. It is one step above cannibalism. Picture the little critter beady glazed over dead eyes looking back at me and the webbed feet and arms waving at me as I chow down on it’s lifeless carcass…I don’t think so. I think I might become a vegetarian….but no….I’m too much of a carnivore. Maybe I can find some berries. That would be berry good.

A freezing rain evolves carried on hellacious winds in cyclone fashion. Though very uncomfortable, it is a resolution to my dehydration problem, and I need water or I

SANCTUARY

-20-

will perish. I drink it all in and I still have my leather pouch and waste no time in seeking out a fresh puddle to store up every drop collectible. The only shelter to seize on as the storm progresses out of control is a thick oak tree by a huge gray bolder. It seemed like ages for the disturbance to pass. Breathing was difficult. Sleeping impossible. One must water the plants from time to time in order for them to grow. A serene void of silenced calm took over the new day. Hunger returned out of the dark pit of human need. It pulled at me like an evil boss. I struggled up looking for things that moved that might pass for food. I figured staying mobile would take my mind off the pain and I might just stumble across breakfast on the way. The elements are closing in on me. I pick up my pace. It is a race to the end.

On a hill, perhaps 3 miles in front of me is a church steeple, and where there is a steeple, there is a church, or so I’m told, and maybe even people, if I’m lucky. The church is a cathedral. It towers before me. The clearstory radiates out towards me with a beam of multicolored sun rays that covers me in dazzling prismatic display. It is abandoned. Only these ancient windows give off life in the form of light. As I enter it is cold and still and untouched by time. The structure stands alone. No other life inside or outside. I cast my eyes in all directions as I leave and I only perceive wilderness. Who would build such a thing and than leave it? There is no sign that anyone had ever been here.    

(section 21 forthcoming in next installment)

 

Author's Note

The adventure continues