Chapter Three
Hollowed minds don’t run
I had to keep my pace. My feet were moving
faster than my thoughts, which consisted of sly sniggers in contemplation of
today’s earlier discrepancy. His dried blood still stained my trousers and the
sounds of his voice were coupled with the confusing ordeal of having to explain
myself to the woman I love. Would the angel that I’m sought after have time for
whatever I’ve become?
I started to experience a peculiar feeling
that arose from the blackest corners and alleys of my forsaken spirit and
spilled out over all things that surrounded me. It had enough power to stop me
dead in my tracks. It was guilt. Without hesitation I collapsed to my knees and
wept loudly. What had I done? What have I become? Could I continue to live with
the twisted man shallowly peering out from inside me?
My mind could not contain this information
and by this point I was screaming my sorrows to the Heavens so that hopefully
God would hear me and forgive the monster that so badly begged for redemption
on a lonely forest road. As if flicked by some divine switch, I stood up and reasoned
with myself, why would God care for me. If He truly did, He would have
interrupted me during my session. No all-powerful being could be strong enough
to raise me above the decay of the modern world and rescue me from myself. I
was alone.
I spent the following few nights in
taverns and the days I spent in solitude, cowering under rocks with only myself
for entertainment, which as the clasp of insanity tends to reason, wasn’t very
taxing. However, I could not continue to live like this for the rest of my
days. After all I had to head back to the town in order to resume my love life
and pursue the singular most beautiful being in that mess of dirty bodies and
filthy language. My goal was simple but the loneliness and the lack of accompaniment
was twitching inside me.
My ever brilliant brain had more than often
led me to dark places where the binds of reality were unravelled and it had
been free to generate all kinds of disfigured images and contorted scenarios.
On most of these ever more frequent occasions I could not fight it back off
inside me, letting it consume my parameters which forced me to interact with
the cunning creatures it had so easily developed. It had happened too often and
I was beginning to doubt the water I drank and the food I ate, I became
suspicious of the world in all its cruelty and heartlessness. There was,
however, one thing I knew was real, my love for the mysteriously brilliant
creature I had only a glimpse of.
Over the next few weeks I found myself
gradually descending further and further into an apparent madness of the mind
as it would most likely have seemed to any observer catching sight of my
increasingly erratic behaviour, although, I in my own world, was fine. I became
enthralled with the simplest of things from foxes to the colourful plants that
ever so elegantly decorated a dazzling landscape far more beautiful and
inviting than that which I was previously habituated to. I eventually took to
tasting mostly every new plant I came across, resulting in fairly severe
poisoning on several occasions. The last of which instigated a chance meeting
with a fellow cloaked in a peculiarity to rival my own.
The gentleman who with a soft caring tone
was capable of dulling the initial intimidation sparked in my mind by his thick
purple robe, blotted with all manner of stains, to match the heavy hood which
hung over his face preserving an anonymity which could only serve as necessity
to a murderer. He found me in a pool of my own shame stricken with illness upon
the consumption of what he later informed me was a highly poisonous plant the
name of which alludes me. If he knew of my crimes I’m certain his compassion
would have been absent. Fortunately to him I was just a foolish simpleton
rolling in my own faeces.
He presented to me an elixir that was
sealed within a satchel which hung off his shoulder across his chest. The
elixir contained within a small vial which he opened and pressed to my lips,
the bitter taste of what I deemed medicine was followed by heavenly respite
from my plant related ailments. After releasing me from my pain he linked my
arm with his, like a gentleman escorting a lady of class, and hoisted me from
the ground guiding my cured but still frail self deeper into the forest.
We lurked slowly through the wooded giants,
passing distinctive plants that I’ve grown familiar to over the course of the
weeks prior to this enchanting event. I’m still enthralled by the man ahead of
me, even if my mind was to blame for his physical presence. I waste no time
asking mundane questions coated with smiles and eager eyes filled with a false
passion for attention. I do, however, thank him for saving me from my dreadful
ordeal and as I blindly begin to ask for our bearings and possibly a reason for
our direction we come to a small parting that explains my mindless query.
The robed body leans to me and gently
gestures me forward to a small cottage in a particularly bright ray of sunlight.
The cottage had this man written all over it, it was a wonder of mystery and
magic, with blackened windows and a thick smoke oozing from the chimney. I
rested my hand on the golden handle for the opaque masterpiece of carvings and
engravings. My mind was thrown into a translucent daze buried in marvel and awe
at this solid portrait of a story told in wood.
As I entered the beautiful cabin a thick, warm
smell rushed to my nose. It smelled of the most delicious meal that came to
mind, which in turn churned my stomach, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten in
days. I had forgotten that I had been blocking the entrance to this man’s’
abode and was startled to find a hand resting on my weakened shoulder. The
weight of his hand was difficult to bear and I became determined not to fall.
He so easily had moved past me that I was
left standing in the doorway of a strangers house, alone and abandoned to make
the final decision with regards to entering or not. A moment’s hesitation too
long and a cool summer’s breeze gently carried the door closed behind me,
nudging me in. It seemed strange to me that a door would be hinged in a manner
which would cause it to open outwardly into the surrounding world rather than
inwardly to the cottage. What sort of backwards craftsman constructed this
strange and wonderful paradise of the bizarre? Perhaps it was erected with the
very hands which carried me here.
My
curiosity would go unresolved for now as I was overcome with a sudden feeling
of great weight over my body and a lack of focus that could only be remedied by
sleep. So I gave into its pleasant seduction and slumped to the floor engulfed
by dreams of my love.
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