The Wanderer
Part 1 — The End
Slowly the sun gains on the dark night sky, announcing itself through amazing layers of beautiful colours. The picture inspiring a new day. An army of bright colours seem to ride from the water up the sky chasing the peaceful dark into an invigorating light. Like a carpet of immense blue, the sea calmingly moves back and forward. Waves roll over the soft sand, sometimes washing on and sometimes taking little treasures off shore. The same waves possibly holding secrets of the almost infinite sea.
Close by the beach, the growing light of the day is lifting the vail of the night, revealing a small shack surrounded by bushes and palm trees. The construction is rather simple, mirroring materials quiet possibly found nearby. Some others though, look from a different life time. Between palm leaves, bamboo and sea shells is glass, dark wood panels and some fabric. Seemingly strong standing the construction looks rather sporadically put together.
Slowly the shadows become shorter as the light takes their place throughout the simple shack. Small with hollow windows and a door only covered by a colourful fabric moving with the wind. Silence, only broken by the sound of the waves and the occasional seagull. An air of peaceful fulfilment surrounds the shack. The feeling closer to day one after a lifetime achievement: Serene and tranquil.
As the sun rises, its’ light enters the little shack softly announcing a new day to whoever had been waiting for it. Like little hands, it progresses through the windows along the dark wooden floor, leading a curtain of red and yellow colours — until the one and only room is full of this young and fearless light. The person laying peaceful in the bed though, stays motionless.
Part 2- The journey
The face rested, showing strong lines, mostly around the eyes. Like the written lines on a page presenting the reader a story, the wrinkles tell tales of emotions. Emotions lived, experienced, loved and feared. The lips seems to form a slight smile. The dark skin has seen many days of sun, muscular arms prove of hard labor. Tall hands, now seemingly deprived of strength lay resting on the chest. The palms of the resting hands hide more chapters to the tale. A tale most probably deemed to be forgotten in time. An insect lands on the cheek, still, no movement.
Peaceful and with an air of contempt, the empty body has had it all. Brought to life and lived it to it’s best of abilities, mostly. The stories it might have lived through, the wins and losses along with days of happiness or sheer despair. All of which now, did matter no more. Every bit of it was chosen and if to chose again, nothing would be changed. But the time had come. So this was a last present.
A call or a chant? Perhaps a melody or even a whisper? Something, that did not belong to this peaceful scenery. Something so different and new, had just cut through the moment, had stopped time itself. The shack was still, the noise from the outside was no more and even the dust particles, dancing in sun rays before, stood still in midair. A moment of beauty equal to the breathtaking eye of a tornado and equally threatening.
The room shrinks and drops downwards in a spiraling movement. Darkness moves in. The sort of pitch-black-no-light-can penetrate darkness. As fast as the room spirals the darkness takes its’ place. Gone is the warming sunlight, the sounds of the waves rolling in and the peaceful aura of the simple shack. The invigorating nothingness of the darkness has taken over completely. Then a tunnel similar to a vortex pulls toward its’ end.
As if traveling through time and space, the vortex holds blinking lights, colours and a sense of urgency. Pulled without means to resist, fast approaching the light at the end of the tunnel. Though no fear nor excitement is felt. There is no emotion in this journey, emotions have been left behind in the shack by the beach. Now, all there is, is the memory of how it did feel.
Part 3 — Home
Fast approaching the end of the tunnel, there was nothing threatening anymore. Memories returned. Memories of a different existence. A colourful and bright place welcomed the new arrival. Yes, this place has not changed. The place of little but everything, a place in darkness but also bright. The wholeness so often imagined, reinvented, pictured and above all missed.
“Long journey this time, hope it was all you envisioned.”
“Your voice, I remember it, I heard it often. Who are you and were am I?”
“I am you, as you are me. I was with you every step of the way — as you were with me back when it was my turn. You are home now. You needed to remember what it meant to be alive. You needed a break.”
“I am dead.”
“The human body is, yes. You were never alive without it.”
“What is going to happen now?”
“Now it’s your turn to watch and keep me on track.”
The place changed, like a camera lens is moved, abruptly. The sea appeared beneath while the clouds were passed. Large animals could be seen form above, gently moving below. Further down the horizon, an impressive skyline approached.
“Change of scenery?”
“Thought it be great to become President, this time. Will make for an interesting ride.”
“Why am I coming along?”
“Come along and just be again. Keep me on track, I will forget once I step in. You will guide me, like I guided you until the end”
With these words, they approached a dark alley in the middle of the city. Behind the heavy locked door, the screams of a young woman pierced the air. Heavy smell of smoke and alcohol combined with stink of old cat food weighted down the air. Newspapers blocked the windows and the light from the world outside. Poor girl, not long ago she would have been a child herself, was now to perform a miracle. The miracle hidden away in her swollen belly. Tears running down her cheeks and her face telling the terror of pain this young body had to endure.
“I count on you.”
“I’ll be there.”
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