Sunday, August 2, 2009

Afterward


Walking on the beach with my toes in the warm, soft sand, I feel comfortable and content with life for the first time in many, many months. Maybe years.

Maybe I learned something from my time on the island?

I have found it difficult to trust anyone. I have found it difficult to forgive myself. Those things have to be done to live a full and meaningful life. I want a life without self-imposed boundaries, without fear of loss. I want a life of joy and bliss and monkeys. (There, fireblossom, feel better?)

After all, we all are born and we all die. We just never know when it will be our time. If I live my life waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop, sooner or later it will. My children are a gift. I will work to feel that way every day, even when they annoy me and make me feel like a jerk. My life is a treasure and I need to remember that, amidst all the work and frustration.

As I wander along the edge of the water, with a bucket full of rose petals, it dawns on me that today is a new day. Just like tomorrow will be. And the day after that.

I have all these days to fill and I choose to fill them with hope and love and the occasional burst of raw emotion. When there are tears, I want them to be for new disappointment, not old wounds.

I hope this day finds you bliss. I have a bucket full of it and I'm happy to share.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm searching for a pirate...

Saturday, August 1, 2009

Dream

As she sleeps, she swears she can hear music. It's not like any music she has ever heard before, though. It draws her down winding pathways, long roads and through dark tunnels. She struggles to wake up from the odd dream and finds herself surrounded by an eerie, blue light. It's almost like a web.



Coiled among the webbing are the three lights. She realizes the lights are creating a sort of cocoon and it keeps her safe from the tiny sand crabs that can pinch, the ants, the spiders that live in the sand. She is also safe from the rain and the storm that rages outside - she can hardly hear it from within the walls of her safe place. She never, ever wants to leave - and thinking this makes her lights very, very happy. They dance with joy to know that she never wants to leave.



In the morning, when the sun is out and warming her skin, she wakes to see the remains of the storm - broken drift wood, flotsam and jetsam from ships that didn't survive the pounding waves. There is also something odd on the horizon. She raises slowly from the sand to look at what she can't possibly be seeing.



It is a ship with the most beautiful sails she has ever seen. They are green and glow in the sunlight like the wings of a dragonfly. Behind the giant ship is a smaller sail boat with sails deeply blue. She doesn't have any idea what to do. How will she gain their attention without a fire, without any way to signal them?

She reaches into her right pocket and takes out a coin, the last remaining item from her life before. If only she'd learned to swim, if only she had something to signal with... but nothing will come into her mind. Until she remembers her little life raft, the pallet she used to get her to shore, and the oar.

Swiftly, she gathers a few pieces of fruit from the gangly trees and drags the pallet to the ocean. The little lights are so excited at her sudden burst of energy that they dance around the sky and weave their way in and out of her long, brown hair. It tickles and she chastises them. Then, she pulls the raft out past the breakers and begins to paddle. The ship looks very, very far away and she can't even think about how long it will take her to reach it.



Hours pass and her sore arms turn to murderous, burning pain. She rations the fruit because it is her only source of liquids, as the water from the sea is salt and undrinkable. She had no way to carry fresh water from the one small spring on her island. After many hours of rowing, she is sunburned, overheated and beginning to hallucinate. She keeps thinking the lights are singing to her, encouraging her to continue on. She finally gives in to the temptation to rest - even though the giant sails seem no closer than when she started. She is too exhausted to continue and falls into a feverish sleep full of nightmarish sea creatures that chase her through the water.

The lights grow worried. They sense her light is dimming, that the exhaustion is more treacherous than she realizes. They wrap her in the web of safety but even they can feel her strength leaving her. There is nothing they can do without help.

One small light, the smallest of the three, decides it must take action. It uses all it's strength to lift the coin from her hand and to carry it over miles and miles of ocean. There is no way this little bit of energy should be able to do such a feat but it does not care - rescue is the girl's only hope. The light carries on for hours and hours, becoming exhausted itself. It barely makes it to the giant ship and drops the coin on the foot of a ship mate with a black bandanna. He is a pirate, but he is a good man, too.



The little light flutters closer to the ground and lands, barely glowing at all, on the ship mates palm. The man feels an amazing jolt of fear in that short instant. He leans down to pick up the coin and the fear grows stronger. He has no idea what the light might be but he knows the coin must have come from a human being - and that it must be close by and is likely in trouble. He immediately scans the horizon for a ship or wreckage of some kind. All he sees is a small pallet of wood and a pile of rags upon it.

He leaps to action, calling "man overboard" and gathers a group to row toward the wreckage. As they approach it, he realizes the little light has completely disappeared, all that is left is ash in his palm. He feels an immense sense of loss but sets that aside as he reaches for the pile of what looks to be rage.

He is horrified to realize it is a girl.

She is unable to be revived and they rush back to the ship to get her out of the heat.

It is hours before she wakes.

He paces back and forth outside her door, awaiting any news, wishing he knew why he felt so helpless, what caused a man accustomed to being alone to long to see her eyes open. He knows in his heart they are the color of the sea grass, green with flecks of gold and brown and grey. He neglects his work as the fleet prepares to cast anchor and sail on to it's next destination.



When she finally is able to talk to him, he enters her cabin with his head down out of courtesy. As he lifts his eyes, he sees a glow of light sneak into her pocket. He lunges across the room, grabs her arm and shakes her. "What trick do you play upon me? I caught one of these lights and it turned to ash. It led me to you. Explain!"

She can say nothing but starts to sob. The little light had caught the ship's attention and brought her rescue. But in doing so, the light had been too far away from her and could not survive. The tears fall down her face like diamonds and began to land on the blanket that covers her knees.

She begins the story - of a love that had turned sour, a rescue with parlay, the destruction of the ship and the loss of her shipmates. All the time alone, hoping for rescue. And finding the box with its inhabitants that kept her safe over the months when she shouldn't have survived. He watches her silently and absorbs the tale. He doesn't want to believe, and yet the moment when the little light went out, he knew this was something more than a firefly.

"I believe in you," he promises "Everything will be ok."

She keeps the two remaining lights with her, to this day. They have changed and become different, ceasing to be dependent on her and struggling to find their way in the world. She is charmed and amazed at their differences, how subtle and yet overwhelming their love for each other and for her. The third light stays in her heart, where she can share the rest of her world with its memory. It was here for a purpose, in its very brief time, and that purpose was fulfilled. Tenfold.



When she becomes sad and wishes for more time with the lost little light, she goes to the ocean, where a shipwreck sits in the sand, and she puts her toes in the water. She says hello to the vast ocean. She wades in as far as she dares. And she sails a small boat, full of pictures of brother and sister, family on shore, these people who love each other and have room in their hearts for more. She hopes that Neptune, in his infinite wisdom, will share the pictures with the soul that embodied the little light for the blink of an eye.



When she goes to the beach, she makes a wish and sends it out to sea. "Let him know," she whispers, "that there will always be room for him in my world."

Intermission


The water laps quietly at the empty box. Seagulls cry and swoop to the sea to catch the tiny, silver fish that swim in a giant school. The girl holds a silver coin in one hand - the last remaining piece of the world she left behind. As she watches the huge sail of a giant vessel draw closer, she realizes she knows exactly what she has to do. She reaches into her pocket and closes her eyes to wish...

Friday, July 31, 2009

Shipwrecked

The daydreams, about a childhood, beautiful places in Italy, dark ghosts, all helped her to kill the time. She still floated, alone but for the flotsam left from the ship breaking apart on the rocks. It reminded her of the stories of Sirens and she wondered if the Sirens had drawn her shipmates to their doom. She hadn't heard them singing. Maybe because the only songs she heard came from within.

"I'd rather be blue..."

How long had she floated here? It felt like weeks. "I'm bored." It startled her to say it out loud. She'd forgotten what speaking felt like. The songs were all in her head now, as she floated on a pallet she'd discovered not long after the ship broke up on the coral reef. She assumed she'd move toward shore. She was wrong. Maybe she should have learned how to swim. Her fear of the water seemed valid - the ocean seemed immense, unending.

"Thinking of you..."

Sooo... now what to do? Counted the clouds. Found animal shapes in the sky (A raccoon, a cat, a fox, a monkey, a greyhound, a cougar). Made about a million deals with God (She promised to be kind to others, always eat her veggies, kiss the most wonderful man in the world a million times a day...) and still no rescue to be found.

"I'd rather be blue over you..."

So, thoughts turn to love. Remembering moments of bliss and happiness, wishes for more of the same, she is too busy daydreaming of long, lingering, smoldering looks over dinner. Warm backyards in a chair. Feeling safe. She almost misses the box.

"Than be happy with somebody else."

Oh, my. Addressed to "Rachel Ann" and with teeny little holes in the sides, covered by mesh and bound in twine. There is definitely something inside. Something important.

She looks around for something to snag it with. An oar happened to be near. She paddles a little with her hands to get close enough to reach it. Then, she uses it to lure the box onto her makeshift life raft. The dragonflies that dance across the water amaze her. She never knew they could be so far from shore.

She leaves it intact, a little bit afraid to open it. She uses the oar to paddle toward shore, as the tide had been pulling her away from the small, sandy island and the sparse stand of trees at its center. It occurs to her that the box saved her life. The mystery of the contents gave her will to live where none existed before.

When she lands and feels the sand under her feet, she lays down to rest. Being in motion for hours and days and maybe weeks has taken its toll.

She sleeps without dreams. When the sun breaks over the horizon and warms her skin, she decides to look for other survivors. But the box never leaves her side. It has become her talisman. It saved her and she won't let it out of her sight. She searches in vain. There is no one else on the island. She is alone but for her box.

She is terrified and enthralled.

She tears through the tape. She feels something banging against her fingers as she lifts the flaps. But she opens the box to see that there is nothing inside.


Until her eyes adjust to the light. Three little glowing orbs dance around. They seem very excited, full of energy, full of life. One dances up and brushes her cheek and it takes her breath away.

Finding the water

The little girl bites the bottom of her lip as she works meticulously to roll out the pie crust. Her mom is so good at it and she doesn't want to disappoint.

In the background, she can hear her dad listening to the ballgame on the radio. Part of her wishes she was sitting next to him. It's the Yankees, her favorite team, and this is the one thing they share that brings her joy. She listens carefully to wait for the sound of the crack of a bat, her favorite noise in the whole world, next to the clap of thunder.

An image pops into her head. It's of a pirate ship, making its way up the Columbia River. She pauses for a moment to wonder how the Native American Indians felt when they saw gigantic sails making their way toward land hundreds of years before. "I bet they thought they were dragons," she whispers.

The crust is thin enough, and she calls her mom over to look at it. It is sticky and has been overworked. Irritated, her mom takes the dough off the plastic mat and throws it away. "Here, why don't you try again. Sooner or later, you'll figure it out."

The irritation in her voice is such a constant that the girl doesn't even register it. Her beagle, at her feet, is panting from the heat. A thought suddenly occurs to her - isn't it supposed to be cold when you make a crust? Aren't you supposed to keep the dough in the fridge until you need it? Does her mom really not know this?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Awaking from the dream, you are watching me as though I cried out. You reach your hand to my forehead. "You feel feverish." I do indeed feel ill but not from the heat or an illness - from the sense that life is spinning dangerously out of my control. Without control, there will be no closure, no sense of peace, no ability to hold my ghosts at bay. I close my eyes and wish my way back to Tuscany. Where the warmth of the sun makes me feel safe and close to you. Not far away like I feel now. I hate feeling so far away, lost and abandoned. Alone.

My dream begins in a sad place, a cemetery - dark and gothic and beautiful. I am standing at a tiny headstone, too small to be seen under normal circumstances. The men and their lawnmowers frequently run over it. It is covered with rubber marks from tire tracks and has been moved far from its original resting spot. Underneath the black scratches is the faint image of a dragonfly, still slightly blue and green but worn and weathered with the age of many winters. But I understand that this matters little - there is nothing left of the spirit who's soul this marker celebrates. At least nothing here that remains.

We are, after all, dying from the moment we take our first breath.

My dream shifts, to a cold, icy road. A selfish act, followed by another, that leaves the world breathless with loss. In my dream, the spirits that inhabit the waterways cry out in horror, anger and grief. It ceases to matter in the breath of an instant. Help will not come, safe harbor cannot be reached. A call of parlay will be ignored forever, echoing on the icy pond.

I am reminded for a moment of the souls, lost forever and adrift, in so many stories from my childhood. What Dreams May Come. Lord of the Rings. Ever calling to the living from the depth of the water, Davy Jones locker doesn't merely exist in the sea. Every puddle, every brook, every fountain contains the souls of the missing and the lost. The Sirens protect them from the living by drawing the seamen to the depths - then by smashing against the rocky bluffs. I don't want that fate for you, I have to protect you from the songs. From myself.

I remember water, rushing at outrageous speeds, with unbelievable force, and the feeling of safety as your hand surrounded mine. The water may be full of memories, but they have other places to rest now. New memories are overtaking the ghosts. Moments on a bridge, looking down as it rushes by. For once, I am HERE and no place else.

My dreams are drawing me back to the shipwreck. I must see it, I know that now. But I don't want to be too close. I worry that the ship's ghosts will make their way home with me if I climb its rusty armor. But for now, I will finally be granted the rest of the exhausted. Slightly bewildered, I find that no more dreams will come to me tonight. Finally, blissfully, dreamless sleep.

Thursday, July 30, 2009

Peter I



I hide footprints in the sand.

Wind whistles through the reeds
But I can only hear my heartbeat.

It feels so loud the earth must shake
But no one else can hear.

Today was supposed to be better.
It was supposed to get easier.

Ghosts swirl all around me.
They haunt even when set free.

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This Friday Flash Fiction 55 courtesy of the letter R and the number zero (is that a number?) and is dedicated to Jake, who couldn't be here today.

If you want to participate, check out G-Man's ever-growing murder of bloggers (kind of like a flock of geese, only more - I don't know - diabolical).

An aside

The stories from this week are all from a dream that has repeated itself nightly over the last couple weeks. I figured an explanation was in order since people have been so kind about my story.

It's not over yet. Saturday night will most likely be the final chapter, and I intend to have a couple more chapters before that.

As for the photos, the ship image on the post Jetsam is a phenomenal shot I found on photobucket.com. It is of the Peter Iredale, which ran aground on the Oregon Coast and still can be found, although only a skeleton now, at one of my favorite beaches. It's in Astoria, Oregon. I may make my way there this weekend, since this is where the dream takes me. And I feel myself being drawn there even as you read this.



Thank you for reading, and commenting, and coming along for the ride. This time around, I don't think the down jacket you see me wearing on my last trip to this coastal town will be necessary. But it is Oregon - you never can tell.