a thread in eternity: september

Chapter 9 in my book "An owl on the moon..."

     The air swells and retreats as dark clouds collide and dance across the landscape.  I close and latch the windows in my room as the electricity illuminates the ebony cloud cover.  There is a scent of misted grass and fresh rain, as the sound of vibrant drums fills the air and rattles the glass.  I tremble at the thought that these drums will beat when I have turned to dust.  My hands ache, and my heart resounds with the fury of the thunder that pounds inside my head.

     As the waves beat time, the uneducated return to their hollow halls to ponder statistics and composition.  Here are the vaulted hopes and confined resources; the wonder of life dissected by cognition.  All the philosophy of life is etched on a page.

     A rose rests in a scarlet vase upon my desk, each fallen petal becomes a woven blanket.  From the sky an angel shadow caresses the earth and hovers, if only for a moment, on field and sea.  I trample muted petals on the walk as I pass the pounding waves and enter the Idler Inn.

     “How the summer sun ages in the sky.  It seems more weary this year,” I say.

     “You’re merely looking through weary eyes, friend,” Daniel Wirth says, as he leans forward in a slightly faded, wooden chair.  “Fatigue is your lasting companion.”

     The caroling chimes are caressed by the wind outside as Daniel rises and steps toward me.

 

“You hear that song?  It’s mere vibration, not magic.

The sights you see?

They’re reflected light, how tragic.

But all we are and hope to be?

A ribbon, a thread in eternity.”

 

     “Daniel, your insight is water in a well, but I have nothing to draw it out with. And no strength to try.”

     “You have yet to open your eyes to the sight.”

     “Can the dead awaken from the grave?”

     “If on that Day, than any day.  Is education alone our hope?  Not if it teaches futility.”  He halts, and I turn to see who holds his halting vision.  Beyond the glass façade the angel stands on the sandy shore with her dark hair draping a lily dress.

     “Sarah,” I whisper, as the cloudy veil is torn open and sunlight floods her frame.

     “Steady on,” Daniel says, “and remember that wisdom is agonized knowledge, and caution is wisdom’s child. I look to see your soul in better days after this last dragon of summer.”  With this he wanders from my vision and I step outside just as she reaches me.

     “Do you have to work today?” she asks.  “Can you take some time with me?”

     “So long since I’ve seen you,” I whisper. “I have no plans today.  I will stay with you.”

     “You must help me.”  As she says this she frantically pulls my hand toward the sea.  “Drink today of my horror and taste the mocking disease that has devoured me.”  At this Sarah falls on the shore.

     “What would you have me do?” I ask, partly in fear as I put my arm on her shoulder.

    “You have a small boat that maneuvers the tides?  Take me to that point on the waters edge,” she says pointing toward  the sea.  “Let me walk on that rocky ledge.”

     I bend down and look into her olive eyes, and the ocean screams silent; silent as she weeps.  Her hands seize the sand, and she speaks.

     “In distant days I unwillingly gave myself to the one I thought I loved; one who I thought loved me. Oh, such pain I feelingly remember.  He took me to that very spot and mocked my fear.  It was there he devoured my soul. And there, still, lies my pierced heart.  Such bloody sacrifice of one so young!”

     She is silent and I stare, watching relentless waves stripping the bloody stone.

     “How I tasted the bitter seed of Judas; betrayal with a kiss.”  At this I kneel beside her and she clings to me in tears.

     At nightfall we make our way past the sandy edge, and we enter the boat of our passage.  There is candle-flame in her eyes, illuminating her cheeks, as we ride the Intercessor.

     Our boat crests, lifting toward the whitening moon. In this thunder, she whispers, and I can hear nothing else.

     “I ran from here, but my eyes never wandered from this spot. Now, so many years after, this hell has become my haven. Just let me touch the stone so that my Morpheus will no longer companion my dreams, for here even the scattered shadows of grace adorn the darkness. O, what sacred, swifting silence.  Let me touch the stone! Just let me touch the stone!” At this she weeps.

     Her hand is outstretched as her fingers touch the rocky place where her soul and body were desecrated. I speak:

 

“Some say the ocean roars,

I hear it ever weeping.

Weep, ocean, weep for those gone before.

Weep, O sea, for the open graves that fill your shore.”

 

     At this, we step up on the sand and weep in each others’ arms. She then whispers words unforgettable.

     “How the ocean’s echo stirs my drifting recollections, and in my rest its constant thunder permeates my solemn slumber.”

     “And what does that thunder say?” I ask, stepping from her embrace.

     “The one who brought me here began to hate me, but met me here on this shore when I asked him. I told him his child was inside me, and he laughed, though I knew it is what he would do. As he turned to leave me, my body trembled with rage and I seized a stone and struck him. I had led him as a siren to a secret meeting and there, with that striking stone, I erased his unholy name from the earth. I buried his bloody body above the mark of the tide. But now, whenever I close my eyes I see his scarlet face. What wicked wildry!  I left here to find a new life so no one would ever know.  But history haunts us.”

     With this confession, her eyes fill with horror. I turn and speak, shaken by her confession.

     “Your secret is sacred with me, though in my dreams I have often seen his specter wandering the sandy shore. What a scarlet revelation!”

     “Not even the vast ocean can wash the blood from my hands. And though I have so long searched for peace, now I only pray for a rest eternal. Peace has been elusive as the wind.”

     “And what do you feel now?”

     “He had said of me, ‘You are fated to be life’s passive participant,’ but I wrestled fate to the ground and suffocated its’ fortune. And yet, his laughter still mocks me, for though the earth has been my stepping stone, only here at the oceans’ side do I feel at ease. Only in your stillness do I find rest.

I am a waning bird

encased in a glass sphere;

I cannot see my prison,

and my cries no one can hear.”

 

     “Sarah, how your dreams devour you without mercy under the cover of night. Let us flee this place before Morpheus overtakes you.”

     At this we ride the waves back to shore.

     We walk on the sand, and she stumbles in her weariness. I lift her in my arms and speak.

 

“In the desperate hour,

when hope is cloaked in shadowed substance,

I walk and wait

and listen for life,

breathing the fragile, frosted air of mortal lungs.

And piercing the fated fabric

of misery unvoiced,

I survey eternal treasure

in the sea,

the sand,

each drifting, clouded sky.

I view those sacred glories in the quiet of your eyes.”

 

     Sarah lifts her eyes toward mine and gently whispers, “O my dearest friend, I am caught in the human maelstrom. The spiraling whirlpool has entwined my life, and is even now swallowing my frame. Have you any hope for me? Can you hear that suffocating silence?”

     “I will ever search for our hope as long as I stride this earth. I would stand in the flames of hell’s fury for a true friend. And I have no friend so dear as you.”

     With this, the ocean stirs in a soft, silent stillness.

 

 

Reviews

[Pax]

First of all, I will say sorry for taking a long break on reviewing this.. :D ~ but I always come back to a story that really touched me… a story that makes me in awe on how precise and profound wisdom you put into this piece… I will forever salute you for that… maybe because in my recent chapters I put a poem as I start-up a dialog.. It made me realize that it’s helpful… thank you for sharing such an inspiring book…

Now to the story… I always find this is more of a poetry book than a novel…. we can always say this is prose-poem style, quite abstract but it didn’t hinders on my understanding on each chapters… so enough chit chat—lolz :D ~ each chapter I always find this profound insight and I always like to quote them:

Daniel said:
“You’re merely looking through weary eyes, my friend”, “Fatigue is your lasting companion”
----- I felt the words of Daniel piercing reality ~ yes Fatigue will be your lasting companion if you’re trap in a hallowed void of depression.

Then he said again:
“But all we are and hope to be? A ribbon, a thread in eternity.”
----- Everything is interconnected ~ we may not see the threads of interconnections, but we do felt it’s there, our heart knows.

Then the protagonist say : (sorry my friend I don’t know his name or I forgot somehow :))
“Daniel, your insight is a water in a well, but I have nothing to draw it out with. And no strength to try.”
----- this depressive state makes you blind on things ~ that I understand so well. We tend to blind ourselves and sometimes just ignore the signs of progress… I know it’s very hard… his reply is really sad… :(

Daniel Said again:
“You have yet to open your eyes to the sight.”, “Can the dead awaken from the grave?” “If on that Day, than any day. Is education alone our hope? Not if it teaches futility.” , “remember that wisdom is agonized knowledge and caution is wisdom’s child.”
----- oh how this touched me, I believed that our eyes is not always alone in seeing things, we also felt… I mean our heart is also there to feel the unseen. ~ I so admire his words~ wisdom is indeed the agonized knowledge (it’s learning from mistakes(those agonizing truths) and the path that we just had journeyed upon).. and caution indeed is the outcome of our learning… that is so true… I say this : Daniel has a keen insight my friend… his just like the voice within me helping & guiding me through all the hard task life throws at us.

~~ next part~~
Sarah said:
“Drink today of my horror and taste the mocking decease that has devoured me”
----- oh, how chilling! Great imagery, powerfully spoken. She hold something so tragic that mocks whole her life… a deep haunting dark secret…

Then she said:
“history haunts us”
----- I will not quote anything that will give away the climactic scarlet relations… the dark secret Sarah harbors deep within her soul, devouring here inch by inch, time by time ~ it hunts her down as she tries to forget… we can never run from conscience, I guess.

Then the Protagonist says:
“I will ever search for our hope as long as I stride this earth. I would stand in the flames of hell’s fury for a true friend. And I have no friend so dear as you.”
----- I guess this friendship are bound by their deep depression, both have something in common. As if they walk in the face of the earth, their soul asleep.

I just want to add the lyrics of my fav song: “regrets collect like old friends, here to relive your darkest moments”
~ I find that line reflects the story…

I made an small essay in this review, I love the pondering thoughts here, the imagery and mystery you induce in this chapter… it’s another gem my friend… a shining moon stone… Brilliant chapter!

[An owl on the moon]

My friend, you understand so well my story.. my pain confessed in fiction. And yes, the protagonist's name is never mentioned. He is meant to be more than a name can give. Your review is so appreciated.. as is your profound friendship!

[Pax]

my friend, Daniel is a part of you ~ and i know he is your strength ~ i know you'll find your balance ~ you've write something for your pain to understand it and to expressed the pain in a creative way and that is poetry ~ keep writing my friend ~ and i have to say your are missed in wc... see you then in your new works keep us posted :)

[Sunflower/Sara Kendrick]

Interesting work...Probably would appeal to the younger generation as they like ghost, goblins, and witches..Thanks for stopping by..Sunflower

[Jenny Nelson]

Wonderful! I didn't see this coming.

[Tracie Skarbo]

So the one who bleeds is revealed and the ties that binds her are now understood. I thought she was tied to the main character and that is why she kept returning...and perhaps this is still so, but the river runs so much deeper. Excellent. I can't wait to read more...on to the next chapter.

[BelieveInCelia]

...I look forward to reading more and more....
Celia