“After the Wake”
Chapter 1
Pieces of myself
drifted away,
floating,
like autumn leaves
off dead trees.
Barren,
fallen from black branches,
and scattered across the ground.
Pieces left behind.
A bit at a time,
Unbeknownst,
until too much is gone,
And I'm left guessing
what's even left?
It used to be so easy,
focused,
an indestructible wall
Walking between worlds.
Now,
in unknown directions
winds carry wants and thoughts
uncontrollable indiscretions.
Slip away
disappearing a little each day.
Bad reception on a television station
Static fills the picture
making it impossible to comprehend.
This story
Contains adult language
“In the cathedral of Silence a raindrop echoes a new soul born to flesh. Is it a blessing or a sentencing placed in the world of rot and aging? To know one day we all shall pass.” His voice loud in my head.
Unmodified patterns of thought.
“Have you remembered your true face?”
Putting the pieces of myself back together.
Jigsaw puzzles in the sand.
“Have you found your original intent? Lost in the land of the living.” His voice in my ear. “Your sacred self and why you came here? This world of eternal wandering.” A blur of color throbs behind my eyes. Lightning head ache. He waves a broad hand over me.
“An ant crawls across a razor's edge. The blade cannot cut it. If it fell, would it matter?” He spoke standing up. Sea salt and waves. His dark outline looming over me. Checking his watch. Vision fills my mind.
“Doc? Is that you? ”
“Yeah kid. It’s me.” A wide brim black hat shadows his face. He seems much older, bone thin in a suit that makes him more scarecrow than gentleman. Gray beard covers his chin like an unkempt garden. Taking off his hat, long white strands of hair drape over his face. He pulls the hair back out of his face.
“You see what we have here.” He says lighting a cigarette. “It appears we have a poverty of the soul.”
Waves wash up over my shoes and his dress boots. I pull the seaweed off my head and legs. Salt water stinking my eyes. A tiny brown crab skitters over my hand. I look around. The crab joined by another and another until I see hundreds, thousands of little moving brown bodies like spiders crawling all along the shoreline. They collect upon the motionless fish washing up in foam and waves.
My breath, a bloom of gray mist coughs out my lungs. “Am I dead?” I ask looking up at the thick blanket of purple cloud wrapping around the horizon wandering how this is all so real. My clothes saturated in salt water.
He checks his watch again. “Dead? Dead is a relative term. Leave this plane, go to another, jumping between worlds. Not sure if dead fully describes your predicament.” He keeps looking at his arm. “Shit kid, I don't have much time. Got deadlines ya know. That's something tangible you can understand right?”
“Hu?”
“You’re poor, kid. You’re so fucking poor. Your spirit. You're in spiritual financial wreckage.” He exhales blue smoke not looking away from his watch.
“Doc? Is that really you?” The blur of existence in my eye.
“Yes, it's fucking me. Who the hell else would it be, your damn spirit guide? You neglected that friend long ago. Now look at you.” He pulls me to my feet. “You over indulged in the world of the flesh. Now your spirit is in bankruptcy, you have no leverage, no spiritual equity.”
“What?”
“I can't spell it out anymore for you Kid. Look around. This is your inner land. The place lost and broken souls wash up. Everything comes here to rot away or turn to dust.” He kicks a dead fish with a black boot.
“Worms in ecstasy. Fucking gross!” Tiny white and pink maggots come squirting out the mouth and missing eye of the bloated fish. Chunks of my last meal find their way into my mouth again. Scales peel off the carcass and the worms get washed out to sea.
“It fucking stinks around here Kid! Get your shit together. I don't ever want to come back. It's going to take months to wash this smell off.” he looks at his watch again. “Look, I really got to go. Already wrecked my damn shoes.” A tiny trail of smoke swirls around his head as he puts his hat back on and looks to the sky.
Waves keep crashing up and down the shoreline moving dead fish in and out like bad breath. A swirl of birds fly around a massive rock cliff protruding deep out at sea.
“Not everything looks to be dead here.” I said.
“Ha! Guess not. Looky look, aint you got that going for ya. Good luck Kid. I really gotta fly. Nice seeing ya again. How long has it been? Few decades. You’re an old man now. Bet your knees hurt almost as bad as mine, but don't get me started on the arthritis. Fuck it hurts getting old. Especially after a few centuries. Do it with grace they say. Where is the fun in that?” Doc pulls a little flask from his inner vest pocket, unscrews the chrome lid and tips a pull back. “Gotta take my medicines.” He winks, and from an outer pocket pulls out a red magic marker. Popping the top with a thumb he draws a big red rectangle floating in the air like string. He draws a door knob, knocks three taps with arthritic knuckles and turns the handle. The rectangle opens flooding us with bright blinding white light.
“Slow wake and new arrival.” He says flicking his cigarette butt out to sea. “Don't let the truth get in your way.”
“What's that suppose to mean?”
“I don't know.” Doc said. “I don't write my lines,” with long boney legs he steps through the opening disappearing into the white. A hand pops back out grabbing the knob and pulls the floating door close. “Be seeing ya around Kid. We don't all live forever. Even I'm getting old. Good luck!” The red outline of the door fizzles out like a firework moments after it closes.”
