mattbraunlin
Member
This is the first bit of a short-story I'm working on. It is inspired by an allegorical vision I've always had, and creates an entirely fantastical spiritual scenario, strongly influenced by what C.S. Lewis did in The Great Divorce.
How it Will Not Be
The first sensation I experience when I wake up is that I am lying on soft, cool sand. I hear water washing to the shore nearby. It is just before dawn, and clouds partly cover the grey morning sky. I feel a breeze coming from the right.
I am puzzled, but not troubled. It is what it is.
I sit up, and look before me at a vast ocean, its waters gently rocking in the wind. I look to the right, and am amazed to see this pretty beach stretching out as far as can be seen. Behind the whole of it is thick brush and trees; completely impenetrable, yet this does not trouble me. Somehow I know that what lies behind me is no concern of mine.
I look down at myself, and am pleasantly surprised: I am wearing my favourite shirt and jeans from before. I even have a tiger’s eye ring on my finger, like the ones I wore back when I was dead.
To my left is a slightly more cluttered beach, with large stones dotting it here and there. Big, smooth stones. I instinctively know there is no danger here. About two hundred feet that way the beach bends to its left, the shoreline finally being obscured completely by the thick brush and trees.
I am utterly alone. Yet this does not trouble me. It is a peaceful solitude, painted vividly by my beautiful surroundings. But even more than that, this solitude is paradoxically completed by a Companion. A Companion I have known most of my life, who was there during my deepest terrors and purest delights, my greatest triumphs and most disgraceful failures. Who blessed me so richly, and put up with so much.
I still cannot see him, but I know him now, better than ever.
I am surrounded by infinity ahead and to the right, by impenetrable obstacles behind, and by mystery to the left. Untroubled, and in no particular hurry, I make myself comfortable, watch the ocean, and wait for I do not know what.
I recall how much waiting I have done. Tortured, desperate waiting. For a thousand things. How deeply I hurt my Companion in those times. But this waiting is different. I am waiting in utter contentment, hungry for nothing. Desperation is gone. Trepidation is dead. Fear of the unknown is obsolete, and has been replaced with utter assurance. I am living, for the first time, entirely in the moment.
Time goes by and by. I hear my Companion’s voice more clearly than ever. The one imperfection of this place is how closely out of reach I am to his plain speech. One tiny mite of reminder of the frustration, the groaning and longing of before. Yet in another paradox, the imperfection completes the moment, like a beauty mark completes a face.
I wait, and watch the waves.
‘Glad to see you.’
The voice is not my Companion, and comes from the left. I remember a time when I would have been shocked and startled at such an intrusion, but those days are gone. I turn my head.
A man is approaching. He deftly makes his way through the scattered rocks, never taking his eyes from me. He is dressed in black, with shined shoes and a long coat, billowing gently behind him in the breeze. I am surprised to see that he is at least sixty-five, his face craggy and his hair withered and grey. But he smiles warmly at me, without a care in the world.
‘I ain’t old,’ he says with a chuckle. ‘I’m just what you always needed me to be. I don’t mind at all.’
‘What is this place?’ I ask.
His smile grows smaller, but only a little. ‘This is your last goodbye.’
I am amazed at my iron-clad knowledge of the thorough goodness of the statement. It would have been an ominous thing, before.
‘To what?’
‘Quite a few things,’ he replies with a wink. ‘Come on.’
He turns without a second look and strolls back in the direction he came. I hurry for a moment to catch up, and then we walk together.
‘What is this place?’ I ask again. The man considers the question, and replies.
‘Remember when you heard, before, that the Present is where Time touches Eternity?’
I nod, and he continues. ‘Well, I guess you could call this Time’s Last Stand. It’s the threshold. God’s given you one last gift here: it’s Time, perfected. Personally, I like to call it Time behaving itself. It’s a final taste of what you know, without all the baggage.’
‘Baggage?’
He stops, and we look at each other. He gives me a sly look.
‘Were you gettin anxious back there?’
I shake my head.
‘Does it feel like you had to wait too long for me to show up? Were you lonely? Afraid?’
‘No.’
As one, we keep walking. After a while, the man gives another chuckle.
‘Know how long you were sitting there?’
‘No. Why?’
‘I ain’t gonna tell you how long you were sitting there. You wouldn’t believe me if I did. But it was a long, long time. But in this place, Time’s your friend, not your enemy. You had nowhere to be. You weren’t late for work. You weren’t gettin older. You had nothin nasty coming up. You were just passin the time. Even me, coming back here from where I was… I still love it here. God gives everyone a taste of Time as it should have been, and then he sends someone to bring em Home, where Time isn’t anything at all.’
Such a wonder, yet not the slightest bit overwhelming.
‘Why haven’t I seen anyone else?’
The man smirks. ‘I think you know why.’
I ponder the question, and though I cannot quite hear his voice, my Companion sends me the very simple answer.
‘Time to myself.’
The man nods once. ‘Yep. Everyone gets their own beach. Nothing to do but spend one last stretch with your Companion. Our Companion. Very soon you’ll come to understand how little attention you paid Him, before, even when you had all the time in the world, so to speak. Everybody finds that one out.’
How it Will Not Be
The first sensation I experience when I wake up is that I am lying on soft, cool sand. I hear water washing to the shore nearby. It is just before dawn, and clouds partly cover the grey morning sky. I feel a breeze coming from the right.
I am puzzled, but not troubled. It is what it is.
I sit up, and look before me at a vast ocean, its waters gently rocking in the wind. I look to the right, and am amazed to see this pretty beach stretching out as far as can be seen. Behind the whole of it is thick brush and trees; completely impenetrable, yet this does not trouble me. Somehow I know that what lies behind me is no concern of mine.
I look down at myself, and am pleasantly surprised: I am wearing my favourite shirt and jeans from before. I even have a tiger’s eye ring on my finger, like the ones I wore back when I was dead.
To my left is a slightly more cluttered beach, with large stones dotting it here and there. Big, smooth stones. I instinctively know there is no danger here. About two hundred feet that way the beach bends to its left, the shoreline finally being obscured completely by the thick brush and trees.
I am utterly alone. Yet this does not trouble me. It is a peaceful solitude, painted vividly by my beautiful surroundings. But even more than that, this solitude is paradoxically completed by a Companion. A Companion I have known most of my life, who was there during my deepest terrors and purest delights, my greatest triumphs and most disgraceful failures. Who blessed me so richly, and put up with so much.
I still cannot see him, but I know him now, better than ever.
I am surrounded by infinity ahead and to the right, by impenetrable obstacles behind, and by mystery to the left. Untroubled, and in no particular hurry, I make myself comfortable, watch the ocean, and wait for I do not know what.
I recall how much waiting I have done. Tortured, desperate waiting. For a thousand things. How deeply I hurt my Companion in those times. But this waiting is different. I am waiting in utter contentment, hungry for nothing. Desperation is gone. Trepidation is dead. Fear of the unknown is obsolete, and has been replaced with utter assurance. I am living, for the first time, entirely in the moment.
Time goes by and by. I hear my Companion’s voice more clearly than ever. The one imperfection of this place is how closely out of reach I am to his plain speech. One tiny mite of reminder of the frustration, the groaning and longing of before. Yet in another paradox, the imperfection completes the moment, like a beauty mark completes a face.
I wait, and watch the waves.
‘Glad to see you.’
The voice is not my Companion, and comes from the left. I remember a time when I would have been shocked and startled at such an intrusion, but those days are gone. I turn my head.
A man is approaching. He deftly makes his way through the scattered rocks, never taking his eyes from me. He is dressed in black, with shined shoes and a long coat, billowing gently behind him in the breeze. I am surprised to see that he is at least sixty-five, his face craggy and his hair withered and grey. But he smiles warmly at me, without a care in the world.
‘I ain’t old,’ he says with a chuckle. ‘I’m just what you always needed me to be. I don’t mind at all.’
‘What is this place?’ I ask.
His smile grows smaller, but only a little. ‘This is your last goodbye.’
I am amazed at my iron-clad knowledge of the thorough goodness of the statement. It would have been an ominous thing, before.
‘To what?’
‘Quite a few things,’ he replies with a wink. ‘Come on.’
He turns without a second look and strolls back in the direction he came. I hurry for a moment to catch up, and then we walk together.
‘What is this place?’ I ask again. The man considers the question, and replies.
‘Remember when you heard, before, that the Present is where Time touches Eternity?’
I nod, and he continues. ‘Well, I guess you could call this Time’s Last Stand. It’s the threshold. God’s given you one last gift here: it’s Time, perfected. Personally, I like to call it Time behaving itself. It’s a final taste of what you know, without all the baggage.’
‘Baggage?’
He stops, and we look at each other. He gives me a sly look.
‘Were you gettin anxious back there?’
I shake my head.
‘Does it feel like you had to wait too long for me to show up? Were you lonely? Afraid?’
‘No.’
As one, we keep walking. After a while, the man gives another chuckle.
‘Know how long you were sitting there?’
‘No. Why?’
‘I ain’t gonna tell you how long you were sitting there. You wouldn’t believe me if I did. But it was a long, long time. But in this place, Time’s your friend, not your enemy. You had nowhere to be. You weren’t late for work. You weren’t gettin older. You had nothin nasty coming up. You were just passin the time. Even me, coming back here from where I was… I still love it here. God gives everyone a taste of Time as it should have been, and then he sends someone to bring em Home, where Time isn’t anything at all.’
Such a wonder, yet not the slightest bit overwhelming.
‘Why haven’t I seen anyone else?’
The man smirks. ‘I think you know why.’
I ponder the question, and though I cannot quite hear his voice, my Companion sends me the very simple answer.
‘Time to myself.’
The man nods once. ‘Yep. Everyone gets their own beach. Nothing to do but spend one last stretch with your Companion. Our Companion. Very soon you’ll come to understand how little attention you paid Him, before, even when you had all the time in the world, so to speak. Everybody finds that one out.’