You May Know Him

July 30, 2008
He’s holding pebbles in his hands; they’re cold against his skin. They feel unfamiliar.
His tracing their surface, its patterns, crooks and nooks, until finally, he let’s them go. He throws them one by one, with a swift movement of his fingers, into the still lake. The waters of which appear disturbed by the sudden movement.
The lake also finds them foreign, something new, something different to its usual stillness. Almost like a song.
It’s grey waters dancing with every stone, a tune left unheard by his ears. The small waves crashing persistently against the shore, the edges of bigger rocks, and vegetation. Almost like a party.
One by one, he lets them go.
Only to watch them sink at the bottom of the muddy waters. The lake swallows them like little pills of ecstasy. One by one, he sees them drop. The water preaching their grace,
“blurp, blurp,” it says, “blurp, blurp.”
Another tune left unheard. To him, they’re just sounds. Much like the ruffling of leaves.
He’s unaware of the lake’s delight by the small disturbance.
He remembers a distant memory, one that to him fuels no emotions; it was something that had to happen, part of life. Just that.
He recalls how it began, coming across the miserable creature and feeling piteous of it, yet he knew just what to do. He knew too much about life to overreact, so in its place, he helped life follow its course.
The boy took the wounded animal to the lake, his sanctuary. He fingers stroking the dying dog’s head in a way that should’ve issued comfort. One by one, his fingers ran over its ears. Soft, gentle strokes.
He gradually lowered the fading body into the lake. He held it underneath,
It’s frail body struggling against his firm hands. Bubbles erupted into the water’s surface. One by one, they popped. Bidding life goodbye, Until it struggled no more against the boy’s tender hands.
The lake sung it’s song.
“blurp, blurp,” said the lake, “blurp, blurp,” and it swallowed it whole, goodbye.
The boy understood that in order to give peace to something, you had to put it out of his misery. it must’ve endured blinding, horrifying pain. It and its misery were no more.
He found it to be a valid reason for whatever he was about to do, for just as that dog, he too had a sickening pain.
He walked to the shores of the murky waters. One by one, he slid his feet; the water caressing his calves; a serene embrace that beckoned him into an illusion of safety. An illusion of much wanted peace. The boy kept walking into it, letting the ice water clasp his body. Misery loves company.
One by one his arms slid in. And he sank.
His body hardly struggled against the water, it understood. Almost as if this were coordinated. This might’ve been an act in a play.
The lake welcomed him,
“blurp, blurp,” said the lake, “blurp, blurp.”

Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

Site Feedback