A Flame In The Water
The story you are about to read was written two years ago.
None of it is very good.
But, it is interesting.
Or, at least, it is interesting to me.
A Flame In The Water
On a dark and stormy night, a young man wandered into the ocean.
No, not very far. But, far enough, in an unfamiliar spot.
Right within the ocean, just below the surface, was a light.
A sharp, red light that appeared to flow with the gentle lullaby of the waves.
The young man reached down, to touch the light.
Upon doing so, the light revealed itself as more than a light.
A flame.
A flame that was not a flame.
A flame capable of living within the very depths of the ocean.
The flame was warm and fiery, yet soothing and gentle.
With the flame in hand, the young man walked home.
Falling Into The Flame
The young man set the flame on a small patch of wood within a metal pot.
And, then, the young man fell asleep.
Right next to him was his dog, Sherman.
A big black dog who had been with the young man for all his life, and planned on being there for much, much longer.
Sherman slept peacefully. But, the young man did not.
The young man dreamt of a vast tsunami submerging the island upon which the two lived.
And, the young man dreamt of falling into this tsunami and, then, meeting a woman.
A tall, rather gaunt, woman who gazed at the young man.
Gazed at the young man with eyes painted purple and green hues, each one emanating a power and yearning that went beyond words.
The young man stared into the woman’s eyes and the woman stared back.
And, then, the young man woke up, causing Sherman to wake up moments later.
A New Friend
The flame was gone.
But, within the space Sherman and the young man lived within, there was a woman.
A woman with dark red eyes, each one emanating beauty.
For several moments, Sherman and the young man stared at the woman, as the woman stared back, with a kind, gentle smile on her lips.
“Good morning, my friends.”
No words were exchanged for several moments.
And, then, the young man asked the woman who she was and what she wanted.
“I am Athirah. Athirah, of the Sun. Please, let me tell you my story.”
And, with that, Athirah shared her story.
A story of love. A story of betrayal. A story of revenge. A story of forgiveness. A story of abandonment. A story of transformation.
During the telling of this story, Athirah moved closer to the young man and, when the story came to a close, placed her hands on the young man.
The young man, having been lonely and curious for so long, reciprocated such gestures.
And, with that, the young man told Athirah that she could say.
Sherman, too, agreed.
Soon after that, the three began making breakfast.
A Good Life
For many months, the young man, Sherman, and Athirah lived a good life.
A life rich with love, pleasure, luxury, affection, leisure; and so on and so forth.
Eventually, though, the good life began to fade away.
Athirah’s demeanor began to shift.
Soon enough, her kindness and love grew to become anger and violence.
For the young man, such feelings were expressed in vague, yet hurtful, actions.
Actions that could not be articulated in a way that felt “rational” or “clear.”
But, for Sherman, such actions were deeply physical.
And yet, for Sherman, it was the mental pain such actions caused that was most difficult.
You see, the young man often ignored such actions and, as such, Sherman was alone.
Alone with his best friend who was no longer his best friend.
And, this is the way it was for some months, until something changed.
Goodbye, My Friend
On a night not unlike any other, Athirah told the young man something.
Something important.
Athirah was going to leave.
To return to the place she came from.
A place beyond the island.
A place beyond the Sola-Luc-Aei.
A place beyond what can be seen and felt.
And, Athirah was going to bring the young man with her.
“But, what about Sherman?”
Sherman was not welcome.
It was Sherman’s fate to live on this island, alone, until the inevitable was to occur.
For moments and moments, the young man contemplated such an action.
Sherman was in great pain, due to Athirah’s actions and those of the young man’s.
But, in the end, the young man chose to stay with Sherman and rejected Athirah.
Athirah reacted with anger.
And, within moments, Athirah vanished.
No, not vanished.
Transformed.
The space began to shake and shift.
All manner of pots and frames fell from the shelves.
Bits of wall fell to the side.
The bed became unmoored.
And, then, it stopped.
Vague reverberations from Athirah’s final words — words that could not be understood by the young man or Sherman — were heard.
The young man stared at Sherman, who had tears in his eyes and a look of deep yearning.
Sherman knew that the young man was back and that they were back.
Back, and away from that woman, from what she created.
And, then, Sherman disappeared.
Vanished.
A moment later, Sherman appeared.
Even though Sherman’s disappearance was but a moment, the young man felt a deep, intense loss that cannot be conveyed in words.
The young man walked over to Sherman.
But, Sherman was not Sherman.
Sherman’s body was thin and gaunt.
Sherman’s face was stretched thin, yet without weight.
And, Sherman’s smile and tongue, well, they were happy.
Happy, yet sad.
Sherman was in tears, yet trying to smile.
But, his body, it was as if it was smashed together and stretched out, then smashed once more.
“Sherman? Sherman, buddy?
Oh, please, Sherman. Sherman, I’m so sorry.
Boy?”
And, with that, Sherman was gone.
Vanished, once again.
There was no more pain.
Not for Sherman.
But, for the young man, there was.
And, in time, his pain, too, faded away.
The invisible flames of Athirah ravaged the young man’s memory until even the memories of Sherman, the best friend of all, faded away.
Eventually, the young man could not remember Sherman, much less his love for the dog, and Sherman’s love for him.
And, in the end, that was that.
Conclusion
Thank you for reading this story!
If you want to reach me, you can do so by sending an email to “maxwellcakin@gmail.com.”
Best wishes and have a great day!
