Mike Owens
As I stand above deck on the old schooner, looking out into the black darkness of the night, it seems so fitting, as if this is but a reflection of my own soul. The ship is tossed about like a leaf in the wind by the tempest which broils about me, the ocean a bubbling cauldron of fury. Thoughts race through my beleaguered mind: Let go of the Rail! Let the waters wash away your misery! Bring this suffering to an end! But still I cling to the rail, not willing to follow my thoughts.Suddenly, as if the Fates have chosen for me, a great wave washes over the side of the ship, sweeping me into the turbulent black waters below. I plunge head long into the angry abyss below. My lungs are on fire, begging for the much needed air that awaits interminably above the surface. I am going to die! Finally, I feel the rough stony floor of the ocean beneath me, and I push up with all my remaining strength, praying I will make it to that air, praying that I can survive. As my head breaks the surface, my lunges desperately suck in the much needed air. A huge streak of lightning crosses the sky above, illuminating for a moment what lies before my. I am but a few hundred feet from a small rock strewn beach. I start to swim towards it.
As I near this barren shore, I can barely make out a figure, standing there, looking out at me, wondering, studying me. It is a woman. Her own clothes are soaked and disheveled, her hair is plastered to her skin as if painted on. She too must have fallen overboard. As I emerge from the stormy waters, she watches me, unsure, frightened, apprehensive. I finally speak to her, but the roaring of the wind around us steals the words before they can reach her.
Behind her, I can barely make out the entrance of a cave. It doesn't seem like much, but at least it will get us out of this storm. I point to it. She follows my finger, unsure whether to trust me. Then bows her head against the storm and slowly walks with me, yet not really with me at all, into the cave.
The cave seems to be a long tunnel, a faint light is visible at the end. I persuade her to follow me through the tunnel. Perhaps there is safety on the other side. The floor of the tunnel is uneven and slippery. We stumble and slip, occasionally reaching out to the other for support, as we make our way towards the light. By the time we emerge, I think I have won her trust a little, she seems less hesitant to stand beside me now. I feel good, some of my loneliness has subsided.
Before us, the sun shines brightly, casting its warmth about us. There is no night here, no darkness, no storm. All is quiet and serene. All is at peace. A cool, sweet breeze gently caresses us, beckoning us to enter deeper into the plush garden that lays ahead of us. Now that I can clearly see again, I turn to look at my new found companion. She is so beautiful. She sees me looking at her and shyly turns her face, a light blush rising to paint her soft, smooth cheeks. She looks so innocent, so helpless, so alone. I reach out to take her soft, warm hand in mine. Though she is trembling and unsure, she does not resist. We start to walk down the path before us. It feels so good, so right to be here like this.
As we walk, I can feel her slowly opening up to me, trusting me more, depending on me more, needing me more. I know I have fallen in love with this beautiful woman, I believe she feels the same way, though she has not said as much to me, I can simply sense it from her. I feel as if I have known her all my life, as if we were meant to be together, as if we are of one soul, one mind, one spirit, and this excites me. I could walk this path with her for eternity and be a peace.
The plush canopy over our heads breaks up the sun trying to penetrate it, splashing the ground with bright specklings of light. I draw her closer to me, wrapping my arm around her waist. Soon, we come to a fork in the path. Which way to go? I turn to her, and we embrace. I have been here for ever, yet it is so new to me. We kiss, taking in the heady wine of our passions, tasting the sweet nectar of love. I am intoxicated by her. I choose the fork to the left and we start our journey again.
As we travel the path I have chosen, the lush foliage gives way to a menacing, foreboding gloom. The bright sunlight we once enjoyed has begun to cloud over. The wind picks up, and in the darkness, I can feel her slipping away from me. I fall, loosing sight of her in the gloom. Where is she? Have I lost her? I rush back along the path to the fork, desperately seeking for her. I can not loose her like this. There she stands at the fork, trembling, afraid, unsure. Does she not trust me any more? Slowly I reach out to her. It is awkward, clumsy, uneasiness envelopes us in it's grip. But she responds to me, hesitantly at first, and we begin our journey anew. This time we will take the right path.