floors and windows until it was a
monstrosity blocking out the ocean. Wide steps led to thick double
doors, both open and waiting. Sand ground beneath my boots as I
crossed over the marble threshold and passed through the doors.
It was one enormous room filled with
credenzas, sofas and antique furniture. The walls were covered with
art from various eras, from Victorian to modern, realistic to
abstract. Expensive vases, candelabras, and sculptures were set
about. All in all, a stunning display, but nothing compared to the
back wall made entirely of glass, offering a full view of the
scenic ocean and the darkening sky. A single fruit tree grew behind
the house, its limbs heavy with fruit.
Multi-folding doors were pushed all the way
open, leaving wide open access to the beach. I stopped, just short
of the beach that extended right up to the house. The breeze came
off the water moist and ragged, blowing my hair off my shoulders. I’ve seen this place.
Sand. Rain.
A blackened sky.
The realization rang inside me like I’d been
struck by a two-handed mallet. It’s where I saw Chute attack,
slashing down with a knife. The vision is taking shape.
I went outside. The rain was colder, pelting
my cheeks. I tensed, looking in both directions for Chute and her
knife, but it was empty. I walked further out until the foamy water
wrapped around my ankles. And then I saw the woman, far down on my
left.
She was standing with her feet in the water,
a faint figure blurred by the rain. Her arms were crossed and she
was staring out to sea like she was waiting. I could feel her
yearning. It was the first thing I’d felt since arriving. Just to
experience something real, a quiver of reality, jolted me with
excitement.
I started after her but, with each step, she
got no closer. The ground moved under my feet, but the back of the
house was still exactly where I exited, like the beach was a
treadmill.
Thunder clapped without any sign of
lightning. The woman was still there, yearning for what was out on
the empty water where waves were beginning to swell. Or maybe her
gaze was settled on the ink-stained sky.
I walked in the other direction and watched
the house. Same thing: it didn’t move even though my tracks
continued far behind me.
Enough. I’m not entertainment.
Understand your environment, one of the first
lessons I learned as a Paladin. Without understanding your Self or
your surroundings, you are a ship sailing without a compass.
I tracked puddles into the house. The pillows
on the nearest couch were soft velvet, but firm. I centered the
largest one near the opening on the back wall and folded my
legs.
My breathing quickly became rhythmic while I
settled into the present moment. Soon, thoughts faded away. I was
aware of the objects around me, the emptiness of the house and
angry sea. Occasionally, the sky cracked with thunder.
I would sit in the moment until something, or
someone, revealed the truth.
Where am I?
Hours went by.
There was nothing but the steady rhythm of
the rain, the rise and fall of my chest and the occasional bump of
the tree banging its fruit-laden branch against the glass wall. The
waves had taken on a foamy white crest. I had no expectations, made
no effort to escape where I was. I just remained open.
And the world remained empty and
mysterious.
I sensed a faint presence of another being
somewhere in this world, likely the woman, but I couldn’t feel
exactly where she was. It was like she was everywhere. And out
there, somewhere, was somebody besides the woman. It was a man, his
presence somewhere on the horizon.
My back ached and my legs became numb. Thirst
burned my throat. I considered finding water, but there would be
none. The fruit hung tantalizingly.
I sat. The rain continued.
And the fruit continued to knock on the glass
like a stranger, wanting to come inside. The metaphor was all too
obvious.
Paradise.
The Tree of Knowledge.
Thump. Thump-thump. The fruit said
yes.
The
monstrosity blocking out the ocean. Wide steps led to thick double
doors, both open and waiting. Sand ground beneath my boots as I
crossed over the marble threshold and passed through the doors.
It was one enormous room filled with
credenzas, sofas and antique furniture. The walls were covered with
art from various eras, from Victorian to modern, realistic to
abstract. Expensive vases, candelabras, and sculptures were set
about. All in all, a stunning display, but nothing compared to the
back wall made entirely of glass, offering a full view of the
scenic ocean and the darkening sky. A single fruit tree grew behind
the house, its limbs heavy with fruit.
Multi-folding doors were pushed all the way
open, leaving wide open access to the beach. I stopped, just short
of the beach that extended right up to the house. The breeze came
off the water moist and ragged, blowing my hair off my shoulders. I’ve seen this place.
Sand. Rain.
A blackened sky.
The realization rang inside me like I’d been
struck by a two-handed mallet. It’s where I saw Chute attack,
slashing down with a knife. The vision is taking shape.
I went outside. The rain was colder, pelting
my cheeks. I tensed, looking in both directions for Chute and her
knife, but it was empty. I walked further out until the foamy water
wrapped around my ankles. And then I saw the woman, far down on my
left.
She was standing with her feet in the water,
a faint figure blurred by the rain. Her arms were crossed and she
was staring out to sea like she was waiting. I could feel her
yearning. It was the first thing I’d felt since arriving. Just to
experience something real, a quiver of reality, jolted me with
excitement.
I started after her but, with each step, she
got no closer. The ground moved under my feet, but the back of the
house was still exactly where I exited, like the beach was a
treadmill.
Thunder clapped without any sign of
lightning. The woman was still there, yearning for what was out on
the empty water where waves were beginning to swell. Or maybe her
gaze was settled on the ink-stained sky.
I walked in the other direction and watched
the house. Same thing: it didn’t move even though my tracks
continued far behind me.
Enough. I’m not entertainment.
Understand your environment, one of the first
lessons I learned as a Paladin. Without understanding your Self or
your surroundings, you are a ship sailing without a compass.
I tracked puddles into the house. The pillows
on the nearest couch were soft velvet, but firm. I centered the
largest one near the opening on the back wall and folded my
legs.
My breathing quickly became rhythmic while I
settled into the present moment. Soon, thoughts faded away. I was
aware of the objects around me, the emptiness of the house and
angry sea. Occasionally, the sky cracked with thunder.
I would sit in the moment until something, or
someone, revealed the truth.
Where am I?
Hours went by.
There was nothing but the steady rhythm of
the rain, the rise and fall of my chest and the occasional bump of
the tree banging its fruit-laden branch against the glass wall. The
waves had taken on a foamy white crest. I had no expectations, made
no effort to escape where I was. I just remained open.
And the world remained empty and
mysterious.
I sensed a faint presence of another being
somewhere in this world, likely the woman, but I couldn’t feel
exactly where she was. It was like she was everywhere. And out
there, somewhere, was somebody besides the woman. It was a man, his
presence somewhere on the horizon.
My back ached and my legs became numb. Thirst
burned my throat. I considered finding water, but there would be
none. The fruit hung tantalizingly.
I sat. The rain continued.
And the fruit continued to knock on the glass
like a stranger, wanting to come inside. The metaphor was all too
obvious.
Paradise.
The Tree of Knowledge.
Thump. Thump-thump. The fruit said
yes.
The
Similar Books
