Across the Universe

Across the Universe.             

 

     Our eyes meet across the pier, wooden planks below our feet bleached by the sun and scoured by salt wind. The ocean roars nearby. And in that moment, I remember seeing her. Not just across my lifetime, but over many. Hundreds, perhaps thousands or even more. Our eyes met and in the same instant I saw those eyes in my mind in countless different times, an infinite expanse of worlds where somehow, inexplicably we always found each other.

     Within the now-lost temples of Xanadu, betwixt the river and the limestone mounts that towered, dripping with vines and lush green foliage, she was in the courtyard, next to the thousand-year-old tree in blossom. She wore a jade green silk dress, hair blackest obsidian and face powdered white in the fashion of imperial China, in those days.

     Upon the great Deathseas of Heranth, where the white dunes of sand dominated the planet surface and gales whipped across their sinuous changing bodies fast enough to scour the flesh from a man's bones instantly. Her hair was platinum then, and shiny, but hid beneath the deep cowl of a thick white reflective sun-cloak. My raiding party thundered towards her on levitating hovercraft, whooping and screaming war cries.

     Again in the foundry city of Draleg Seven, where the habitation hives sat astride and between molten rivers and lakes of the purest metal. The way she smiled through the visor of her heat suit as I offered her my xan wrap on our allocated break time, sitting atop a huge abandoned metal crucible down in the iron hills of the slag wastes.

     Then in the imperial palace of Illumine, where the fluted towers soared high into the azure clouds and gryphons swam lazily through the air. I watched her die from the crowd, almost peacefully, as the assassin's arrow pierced her delicate swan-neck, spilling the crimson of her royal blood onto the sapphire corset. The imperial guard diving in front and around her, too late.

     Upon the blood-stained grounds of the Veralex Arena I faced her down, with only a shock sabre in my hand and a steel blast-vest across my chest. She charged towards me, whirling her two lightning hued mono-particle sharp swords, wearing nothing. To the roar of the crowds high above I met the most horrible, beautiful death imaginable in that concrete colosseum. Her hair was fire-red and her skin ebony.

     Twice I saved her life, I recall now though there are surely many more. Once I caught her hand as she vaulted the empty abyss between our star cruiser and the intercepting Navy vessel. Before our eyes as we stood magnetically secured to the ships grey hull, the pirate raider black and menacing tore our craft apart with a broadside of laser fire. I held her in the vacuum of space as she sobbed. I could hear it through the physical connection in our dark grey vacuum suits, the ovoid helmets connecting. Her auburn hair swam lazily in zero G.

     The next was when in the summer of 1942 the German forces overran Stalingrad. She'd been a refugee, displaced by the war. Her and her family, aged parents and younger siblings, had sought shelter deep within a basement during the opening bombing runs by the Luftwaffe. When the fighting degenerated to house-to-house, I'd found her. During a particularly vicious firefight when me and my comrades were being pushed back through a shattered buildings remnant, shooting as we ran. I'd seen them there, and her, huddled among the wreckage. Grasping the parents by the arms and hauling them out, the lot were saved before the rest of the structure was leveled by tank shells. Her eyes had met mine, red rimmed, tired and teary. The most brilliant blue I’ve ever seen.

Every time we met, every time our eyes drew to one-another, I knew. I remembered, if only for the briefest moment in time. For Shorter than a split second, I realized who she was.

     Sometimes we were merely strangers, passing each other by, haunted by a lingering feeling of familiarity we'd never be able to place for the rest of that life. Sometimes she killed me, or I her. Sometimes both our lives ended. In other timelines we grew old together and knew deep love. In yet more we were separated, flung upon great quests and journeys to re-unite. Not all of them succeeded.

     No matter what happened, where we were cast by the tides of fate, or what occurred between us, for some reason every encounter, every life no matter how harsh or cruel it was in the living seemed worth it to me. For every eon or so that passed there was a blink of years, the merest fraction of their existence, I would get to live with her.
     Peacefully or through arduous penance, they would still be together. I made myself look away this time, back to the crashing waves off the pier. Back to the rolling grey of the ocean. I was content to do so. Because I knew, though I felt then it was not time, that we would meet again. Somewhere, across the universe.

Reviews

[VALORMORE DE PLUME]

I like this. Soulmates, straddling time's valleys, lingering near the peaks of remembrance. You revel within a mystic journey that most disregard. The seperate timelines come alive for the reader. Just enough for a taste. Well done. Reminiscent of "Cloud Atlas".

[AlphaGemini]

Thank you, and indeed Cloud Atlas was one of its chief inspirations - I wanted to write it fast and with sudden scenes like that of a movie trailer.

[VALORMORE DE PLUME]

I like short fiction and flash fiction. It is difficult to write; a 300- 500 word, stand alone, unique story, that touches the reader, in ways they would never imagine. But then, some say, nothing is new under the sun.
Write, what you believe you, should write..

[Delmar Cooper]

This is, of course, not a story, but a plan of outline for the details of a story – perhaps saga, to be written in the fullness of time. While speaking of time, the outline considers time as a loaf of bread from which any slice may be selected and relished, a Tralfamadorian loaf so to speak. I have no quarrel with such a concept, but as written, even as an exploratory concept, the writing is sloppy. Here is the opportunity to, by words –especially verbs, enhance the created world/concept. Tense is important “met” and “meet” are not interchangeable as past and future aren’t. The pronoun usage implies a personal narrator in some places (an actor in the drama) and in other places a disinterested observer. Perhaps a decision hasn’t been made about the relationship and will be in a future revision. Needs to be decided as no story can serve two masters and still serve the reader.
All in all I wait for the five volume edition. Breathlessly.

[AlphaGemini]

Thank you for such an honest review. If I also may be honest, my writings are produced in one of two ways: either hastily jotted down in spare moments, or slowly constructed and typed out. This is one of the former, and while sometimes it works out, I see now perhaps I need to review it a bit more. It was merely meant to be a creative piece, short and sharp images like the trailer to a movie about a cosmos-spanning movie, just to throw some details around and let the readers mind do the rest- a minimalist concept I was trialing. I consider myself to be learning still, and I appreciate constructive reviews like this as much as I do entirely positive ones. Thank you again