The Travelist

A dying artist learns that there are fates worse than death.

                                          A lot of people say that when you die you go to either heaven or hell, but I know better. Death is a place, just a place, like any other.

                                  When I was on earth I was a genius, that’s the only way to put it.  I was a f*****g genius. Not smart enough to evade death, nobody has that ability. But I did find a way to meddle with time. 

                                   The beginning of my life really sucked. So I ended up experimenting with a lot of drugs and chain smoking to ease my nerves. Then I met my wife, Karin and everything changed. I dropped the chemical luggage. Six months after that I put out my last cigarette and prepared to spend the rest of my life with the woman I loved. 

                                    

                                            Fate had other plans though.

                                   My marriage to Karin was incredible! We were both painters and travelled around the world showcasing our work. It was a dream come true for both of us. But after fifteen years of this I found out that I had lung cancer. There wasn’t anything anyone could do. 

                                   The doctors told me that I had two, three years tops and that I should spend my remaining time with my wife..... saying goodbye. But that wasn’t what I chose to do. 

  

                                   You see, I loved and still love Karin more than anything in existence. I wasn’t about to let premature death separate us. Before I met her, my life was s**t. She gave my waking life meaning. There are no words to describe our bond and what it meant to me. 

                                  Remember when I told you that I had “experimented” with a lot of drugs? Well, when other people say they “experimented with drugs” they don’t usually mean it the way I do. Allow me to clarify.

                                  Yes, when I was a young man I was unhappy and yes my life sucked c**k. But my life wasn’t a  complete waste back then. I was an artist, an exceptional artist! My job was to explore the deep recesses of the human condition and draw them to light.  I used certain drugs as an extension of this exploration. The fact that I was so depressed only made me more daring in my experiments.

                                  

                                    By the time I had met Karin I had already stumbled across something phenomenal. 

                                   I don’t want to give all of my secrets away. So I’ll give you a very crude run down.

                                     While in deep meditation I discovered certain latent mental paths that allow a person to actually twist their own timeline onto itself. In other words a person could travel back into their own history. 

                                      For example, let’s say I want to go back ten years. I’m forty three now, if I travel back ten years with said method then I would wake up as the thirty three year old me, wearing whatever clothes I had been wearing at that time and I’d be located wherever I was located then. My mental state would be the same but in my younger body. If I wanted to go back to when I was five I could. With a bit of work I’d gradually enter a trancelike state. This would be coupled with a few tricks that I’ll just keep to myself. I’d need to focus on one particular moment when I was five so keenly that it would begin to solidify around me. That memory would continue to materialize until I would find myself back at that exact moment in time. A forty three year old me in my five year old body, in my five year old past. 

 

                                    That’s the thing though, you can only go back to a time that you have personally  lived and remember well. You can’t go forward in time, you can’t go to a time before you were born and you can’t take anything with you. Oh, and one more thing, once you’ve traveled back, there’s absolutely no changing your mind. You’re stuck there and have to relive everything. You have one shot at this and one shot only.

 

                                    

                                You’re probably wondering how I could know so much about a process I only fluttered by and hadn’t tried yet at that point. I wish I could tell you more but let me just say that that was the whole beauty of the encounter. It showed  you how it worked. It installed itself into your being; was alive and all that was left was the execution. 

                                 At the time that I had discovered this wonder I didn’t want to use it. I wanted out of my past, not deeper into it! 

                               Everything changed.... and then it changed again.

                                                I was in love and dying. 

                                           What would you have done?

                                 My whole life I had searched for Karin. I’d do anything for her, even relive my own horrid youth.

                                 The plan was simple, I would go back to when I was fifteen, right before I had started smoking. Then I’d wade through the years of bullshit until I met  Karin again. Think about it, I could avoid smoking, prolong my life, apply myself better in school with the knowledge I had acquired over the years and meet Karin years before we originally had met the first time around. Genius!

                                 The doctors said that I had two or three years left to live. I didn’t want to take the chance of finding out wether or not this was true. I decided to leave immediately. 

                                  Karin was asleep, curled up in bed. Her pillow was still wet with tears. She’d cried herself asleep every night since the news. I leaned over and kissed her forehead.

                                   I had decided against telling Karin my plans. There  was too great a chance that she would be against it. It was probable that she’d opt to just enjoy what we had left and not take such a risk.

                                  See, when you induce the trance that begins the process, your heart rate and temperature are lowered to a point near death. In fact, deep in this state a person could pass for dead. When we had first started living together, Karin had walked in on me during my last session and had completely freaked. It took her a bit to calm down. She made me promise that I would never do it again. I had meant to keep my word. 

                                  I knew the exact moment that I would travel to. When I was fifteen me and a kid named Benson Ficher ditched fourth and fifth period together. We walked a couple blocks away from the school and hung out in this semi secluded alley. Benson had lost his virginity the night before and wanted to divulge all of the sloppy details. Why I always went along with his fucked up ideas I don’t know. It was Benson that had later introduced me to Karin. But there was still a big part of the adult me that resented Benson and his stupid ideas. 

                                  It was there in that alley, that moment in my own history, during Benson’s enchanted tale about trying for a hand-free orgasm that I smoked my first cigarette.

                                   That first f*****g cigarette! That one f*****g cigarette was the beginning of what caused my lung cancer. That moment.

                                  So I began the process.......

                                 

                                        My eyes opened... or were they already open. I felt dizzy. There, across from me stood Benson talking. I blinked, not believing what I was seeing. Fifteen again! I was fifteen again! This is real! I did it! 

                                   Here was my chance to do everything over, to do it right this time. 

                          

                           Benson  didn’t seem to notice my dazed look. He was too engrossed in his own storytelling. 

                                       Fifteen. I did it. I’m fifteen again. I can do everything right this time. 

                                                              For Karin. 

                                        Benson was still rambling on, something about smurf panties.

                                     Still dazed, I turned and started walking back towards the school. Benson called after me. I just sort of waved him off, mumbled something and kept walking. 

                                       Who cared about Benson and what he thought. Benson who had got me hooked on smoking. Benson who had earned his degree in chemistry by secretly altering my perception. All I cared about was the future. The one  I’d spend with Karin. If I was serious about changing everything then it was to start immediately. That meant returning to school and straightening up. Hell, with all I’ve learned since SCREEEEEEECH!!!!!

                                     The truck hit me. Everything went black. Then I was here. I’ve been here ever since.

                                      In the afterlife you can see what happens back on earth.

                                      I could see Benson run out of the alley. He ran to where I lay, in  a pool of my own blood, dead. I saw how he panicked, screamed for help and collapsed on my body crying. I got to watch him collapse many times after that over the years, alone. I guess he wasn’t such a bad friend after all. 

                                    I got to see the 70’s, 80’s and 90’s all over again. This time without my allegiance.

                                      Finally, I got to see Karin. She never got a chance to meet me. She married a nice man and they fell madly in love. They opted to not have children and pursue a life of painting. They travelled the world, showcasing their work. 

                                      Karin’s husband died at age 45 of  lung cancer and she died one year later in a car accident. Even death couldn’t break their love. They’re still in love, here, in death. But neither one of them know who I am.            

                

Reviews

[Androglossia]

Not only you are good with the art of painting, you are also a good story teller. I was hooked. You have a brilliant mind. I say this because I'm not good at reading stories but this one has captured me. The plot is well structured and the twist is unpredictable. I like the descriptive nature of the story. You have a good literary technique that goes beyond the simple and evident intention of words or actions.

[Groshelle]

Wow! You just made my day! Thank you!

[Androglossia]

You deserve it.