Genetically, I have no balance. So, either die a respectable way or die surfing AKA trying to surf.
Ever since I was a little kid, my stairs turned into waves, as I flailed to the bottom of the ocean floor. Light cords and seaweed catching my legs, dragging me down. Vases and coral conveniently placed for cutting me up. There was always blood. Sharks would hover, so would my mother.
"Get away from me, I'm fine," I would yell, saltwater on my face.
Ananda had led me along the holy path and now he sat under the weeping willow on the cliff's precipice. Clouds shrouded the river valley.
"Banu, please sit here with me," said Ananda.
Wispy branches of the willow tree dropped below me and I saw the edge of the pitted black rock I sat upon. Beyond the world was gray. Ananda was quiet his eyes closed as he looked into the mist. I knew what was expected. To close my eyes and see the stream waters washing past me and to open my soul. I was scared. The words flickered within me like the conflagration of a forest fire. Their forked levinfire writ with characters that glowed in red. If I let them loose, if I made one mistake, the world might be unrecognizable. The mist tasted of mildew.
"Banu, you still sit here on the Jade Peak." Ananda had opened his eyes. The black pupils were large and I could get lost there. "Join me in the stream."
My throat was tight and I could hear my breath scratch as I sucked for air. "But, I'm scared."
"Of what?"
I opened my mouth wide and a tendril of levin white escaped out and lit the mist.
"Those are a gift --"
"A gift?"
"Yes, a gift of the words of creation. Not everyone has them. You have two choices: either to surf the stream and mold the world with your words, or to let the words die. Which will it be?"
I closed my eyes and stepped into the stream. Out of the mist I built a river valley and a fishermen's village.
Not much of a choice.
ReplyDeleteGenetically, I have no balance. So, either die a respectable way or die surfing AKA trying to surf.
Ever since I was a little kid, my stairs turned into waves, as I flailed to the bottom of the ocean floor. Light cords and seaweed catching my legs, dragging me down. Vases and coral conveniently placed for cutting me up. There was always blood. Sharks would hover, so would my mother.
"Get away from me, I'm fine," I would yell, saltwater on my face.
Ananda had led me along the holy path and now he sat under the weeping willow on the cliff's precipice. Clouds shrouded the river valley.
ReplyDelete"Banu, please sit here with me," said Ananda.
Wispy branches of the willow tree dropped below me and I saw the edge of the pitted black rock I sat upon. Beyond the world was gray. Ananda was quiet his eyes closed as he looked into the mist. I knew what was expected. To close my eyes and see the stream waters washing past me and to open my soul. I was scared. The words flickered within me like the conflagration of a forest fire. Their forked levinfire writ with characters that glowed in red. If I let them loose, if I made one mistake, the world might be unrecognizable. The mist tasted of mildew.
"Banu, you still sit here on the Jade Peak." Ananda had opened his eyes. The black pupils were large and I could get lost there. "Join me in the stream."
My throat was tight and I could hear my breath scratch as I sucked for air. "But, I'm scared."
"Of what?"
I opened my mouth wide and a tendril of levin white escaped out and lit the mist.
"Those are a gift --"
"A gift?"
"Yes, a gift of the words of creation. Not everyone has them. You have two choices: either to surf the stream and mold the world with your words, or to let the words die. Which will it be?"
I closed my eyes and stepped into the stream. Out of the mist I built a river valley and a fishermen's village.
"Yes, that's it."
Jonathon, I like the mix of suburban house and ocean.
ReplyDeleteThanks. Your writing is so thick with thought. While it's not my style, I find it intriguing and enlightening.
ReplyDelete"dude, what uuuuup?"
ReplyDeleteI pushed my glasses up, adjusting them so the sun wasn't creeping over the top. "Kickin' back."
"Surf or Die, Brah."
"You say that every day. And yet, here you are. Not dead."
Tyler rolled his eyes. He grabbed his board, tucking it under his arm. "Ya commin'."
"Yeah."
Heather, that's fresh.
ReplyDeleteSo different yet all so good!
ReplyDeleteI knew my passion was going to be the death of me one day.
ReplyDeleteI just never expected this.
"Stop surfing and I pull the trigger."
I closed my eyes when I felt the heartless metal push against my right temple. It was actually warm.
"Who the hell are you?" I was hoping to god I was being punked by one of my crazy friends.
"Not important who I am. What's important is how long your battery lasts."