(GE Copy)

Chapter 26: Reverie of Repentance (Part 1)

“People want a second chance, because they know now, what they did not then...”

Fields of green, fluffed with the fur of seeds growing within their husks, blew with the soft breeze that caught a million; it creates a wave that softly impresses onto the eyes, from what should feel like nothing, yet stiffly itches in it’s maturity. A tree waved overhead, it’s every clacking leaf appeared in slow motion, as Aaron anticipated the sound before it happened. The sky, so clear; the smog of summer fires were cleared like a rainstorm had just settled, yet his ground, however humid, was still parched. A hill, a mountain distant and rounded, a break between two meadows, the slope of a forgotten creek covered in grass... Wherever he was, it was definitively new.

Aaron laid himself back down, and calmly retraced his journey, to frankly be lost of yesterdays events also. There was no fear in him, nor concern, though a man should simply wake as the gazelle in the field, this world was peaceful; natural, untouched, it’s very air was without hostility, like a young boy freed of his hindrance and cast amidst the hills for pleasure. In the centre of his ear, the wind of forests could reach him, and he heard it though it were right next to him. A simple breath felt like the rushing of a hungry storm, captivating the sky into his lungs. Then out it expelled, like rolling summer clouds of warm air, cascading off his lips and into the sea. Every light seemed brighter, and every green looked greener, and Aaron laid there to wonder if there was anything else of life, only to witness a bird fly over top. The sound of it’s wings was living, the delay of it’s breeze upon him, came with it’s signature in every flap. Aaron was free.

He lifted again, seeing the endless glory of a lush and fruitful field. Perhaps Aaron had finally met with the world that he deserved, walking the place where he began, too attached to move away from it; but his body would remind him of his hunger and his thirst. Aaron walked for need of substance, yet lush, the world was barren of anything but the lifeblood of bugs, and deer, and birds. No fruit, nor running water; the seeds were empty and dry. The grass was grass, and if you’ve ever eaten it, you’ll know why I don’t have to go into detail.

A forest wall obscured the hill, with passage laid beyond the wall of bush, ever close yet out of reach. He searched through what laid before him, but even the wilted petals of berry bushes were still yet out of season. The trail behind the chest-high tease broke apart, and all seemed like walls between him, and prickles for even trying. Aaron thought to the ease of crawling through the brambles of horned berry bushes, but his fears held him from the needless itch, and soreness of it’s scratchy abrasions.

Aaron’s cold skin shivered by the shade and walked back into the sun to warm, watching the morning sun above the treetops. To his left, a sun speckled passage seemed to sprawl through the narrow crack of woodland boarders. They seemed sparse along the grassy pathway, tripping over log and stone. It would become dense again at the brink of a shaded waterway. Aaron crawled through the small gap, scraping his arms for the delight of water; but stood still hesitant of partaking, for fear of it’s components. A running river is seldom sufficient of cleanliness, and Aaron would wager his odds with his thirst. Around the source of refreshment and potential disease, he came upon a shallow crossing and a smattering of acorns.

Aaron withdrew the nuts from the earth, pulling rotten and cracked shells of yesteryear alike, until one finally caught his eye. Upon it’s lifted lid, and the breaking of it’s shell against the rock, Aaron came to another conclusion; he had no idea what was safe to consume or not. Sure his parents collected acorns in his past, but so often he heard from his father that he should be wary. Aaron sought after it long enough, that he saw it good to eat, and was immediately met with the desire to spit it form his mouth. The bitter tannins of the nut was unbearable, gritting his stomach to subside him from eating, yet not so much as to stave his need of hunger. His parents would leach the nuts for hours, but Aaron did not have such luxury of time; as he began to realize that he had no idea where home was, and the sprawling wonderland was no longer the paradise he sought.

Aaron sat and contemplated his endeavour, patronized by the reality of his hardships. Home sounded pretty good right about now, but surely it wouldn’t be simple, even if he set himself to return. Where was it even? The sounds of running of waters were captivating, and as he stared into it’s rippling surface, Aaron was hypnotized. Where was here? How did he arrive? He had no more energy in him to walk city blocks, let alone... Wait, he could remember something of last night, but it was faintly drear and boring, though the mind fallen asleep from recording. There was a sound and a shock, something astounding; Aaron could not recall, yet it seemed as though there was nothing there worth remembering. A cold sweat came when he emerged, light of head and dry of mouth, as he picked up his weary legs.

Something about the understanding of truth last night, triggered a memory laps, or perhaps the state of mind simply put... would not allow for the recording of memories. Aaron wondered if part of him stood, outside of himself: As with another hand, there may be another self altogether, and in that lapsing, it was simply impossible to connect one to the other. His head began to weigh heavy and hurt the more he thought into it, he was already delusional, maybe he ate something last night that changed all of it. There was a man last night. He offered Aaron something, but he couldn’t see a body, so perhaps it wasn’t drugs after all. It would be better if it were though, otherwise, these thoughts he had would have to be original; and Aaron wasn’t pleased at the prospect of something as nutty as that, vouching for his sanity. He figured he sounded nuts enough last week, but this...

Aaron searched his body, looking for signs of his arrival. He was without scratch nor scar, almost. He cut himself reaching the creek, and could not discern if the red and swollen cuts on his bare arms were from this morning, or last night. If he did not cut himself walking into the field, then a road through the forest walls must have existed, to direct him homeward. What luck to be surrounded by trees after all. Aaron debated his thirst before leaving, but feared furthering his fever dream with beaver fever, or woodsmens fever, or anything to screw with his head any more. Salmonella? He couldn’t hear any cows, but cow shit travels a long distance down stream. He wasn’t that thirsty, yet.

Aaron searched the field once more, enclosed, he had to have come in from somewhere. The lack of personal bruises would indicate there was a passage –and if one did exist, then also would there be a way out from whence he came... But he found none. Feeling weak of stamina, Aaron realized how short of supply and uncertain he was, of when he would renew his strength again. No portal water, no indication of what realm he fell into, Aaron was beginning to piece together the depth of his dilemma.

He sat upon a boulder amidst an outcropping of stone, and surveyed his surroundings. Having seen it first hand, the forest was deeply thick, and he knew there would be no hope in bushwhacking through it. Willing himself back to his feet, he came upon a river, that was hidden behind the grassy berm of what originally looked like another field. It’s wide shoulders seemed a fair walkway, and even bore a few stones that seemed tumbled out from their sockets. In fact it seemed rather recent. From east to west, in accordance to the sun, Aaron questioned it’s two cardinal directions. His previous stream should run in with the east, meeting to merge and creating an impassable barrier. Aaron had to have come from the west.

Aaron could recall a breeze between the trees that reached in past it’s forest walls: It was a cold night, where a brisk chill had caught him, blowing off a stream to his left. He swore that he had seen a shadow, creeped out from the presence of spiders on every branch and under every bridge, he was utterly paranoid by his surroundings. He walked, too nervous to stand still, but his memory seemed too frail and fell apart, forcing Aaron’s mind back to where he currently stood.

The warm sun glazed upon him, staggering off towards the riverside. Aaron was certain of it, he had come in with a water to his left, to return, the water must be on his right... And he went, following it upstream.

Fresh air leached into Aaron’s lungs, filling it with a lavish liveliness. He could only count the times that this feeling flushed within him, on a single hand. It was often that he’d feel the air move, but seldom could he recall actually appreciating it’s invigorating calls. For so long, he felt to be slowly been taking it for granted. He could smell a faint hint of flowers upon the hill, across the waters, just out of sight; like a snap dragon, or a honey suckle, enticing but never in sight nor reach.

Light glimmered bright glinting sheens, like diamonds, upon the wettened stones as water rushed past them. Aaron looked behind, captivated with a running tide of blinding sparkles. A fascinating show which he would have to walk away from, for a reality up ahead. His home awaited him, or at least the semblance thereof.

Warm air and soft ground, Aaron’s stride reminded him of the joys he found as a kid. He leapt from stone to stone, finally free in his mind to live, without the fears of a nagging weight. So often had he turned down the chance to indulge his innocence, under the judgmental eyes of those around him; who’s liveliness was fled for a glare and an adhesive smile, like a bright coloured coat one would keep in their closet for rainy day. Even alone, Aaron admit, even then he felt their eyes in the temperament of his soul. Aaron slid, twisting his ankle as he fell. There was a pain that he forgot, not in his bones, but the fear of days lost; limping in a cast, with crutches that held him from admitting his folly. It wasn’t the wincing agony, but the time that he lost. Aaron sat himself, inspecting the damages, but in a few minutes his ankle seemed fine. Just a small scare, but a scare that would remind him of what he had at stake. A broken leg cannot run, but neither could a weary soul hope to escape it’s captor. Perhaps there was more to pain than he remembered.

Within a few minutes he was walking, in ten more he felt no more swelling, and by the hour he had forgotten all about it. His youth had overcome the embarrassment, and hopped to tempt fate again with a youthful bound.

His road narrowed into a short catwalk before the rushing waters, and Aaron began to question if he had at some point passed over the night before. Bridges, oh, of course... but he had been so merry that he had not kept his eyes upon the road to see one. In a thin crossing, Aaron leapt for the other side, landing short and slid in the muddy sands. He soon knew burning of his ankle had not fully recovered, as the cold waters in his shoes began to warm. Just behind the bluffing lip of the river’s edge, Aaron could see a flat overgrown path behind the bush. He squeezed in, hoping it would lead him home, as it’s walk of deer trails lead along the riverside. Although another seemed to exist opposite of him also; but as long as he had the river, he could retrace the faint recollection of his way in. ‘Right?’

The soft compression of the stump felt hollow, as Aaron sat to rest beside the water. Their bending hooks came into a shallow gravel bank, and the shores overgrew with sparse grass in between the high water seasons. The swaying marble of tree piercing light, was a reminder of what laid at the end of this dim hollow. Though, try as he did, Aaron could not conjure the memory of what came before. Spiders... Right... Spiders. Aaron looked around, and there were none; thankfully... Kind of. He supposed that was still to come, but the paths were dry as he recalled, and the bridges made of wood. This was none of which. He considered his tired legs, walking the uneven gravels up here, and it would seem insurmountable that he should have travelled for so long last night in the dark.

Even if it couldn’t take him home, his stomach rumbled and he knew that he could not make a stake here forever. The bushes along the wayside were empty, beside last years shrived harvest. Berries, mushrooms, natures bounty... He knew none of how to test any of them. Aaron laid there, casting ideas for how to conserve his strength, but it all came to the same conclusion; he’s just have to see what came next.

Wind rustled the leaves and it made a song, Aaron was impressed. He laid there, recuperating his worn out feet, until he could not longer make out a melody from the greenery overhead. These moments of peace would always come to an end, but were invaluable. If there was any reason that made life worth living, it was these beautiful moments in between.

Not long after, Aaron caught sight of a cliff side above the forest canopy; finally hope for dry soil, and hardships in crossing a river that could only be overcome by man’s intervention... That or he’d finally have the call to turn back. The longer it took to find what he was looking for, the more he had began to second guess his logic.

Loose soil turned to gravels, sticking out of the moist black peat and sands, and soon even that caked into a loose sandy bedrock, but Aaron was at his ends. A slide at the basin of a towering cliff rolled a bouldering passage across the waters, and Aaron crossed it again. The bridges he remembered were literal, not that he had seen any break in the stream up until now, but it had to be just a matter of following the creek. Each step in the wrong direction counted for two; but as much as Aaron wanted to turn around, each step would count for three, if he turned away from the right road... A road that always seemed to be just a step away from confirming.

Aaron held together the uncertainty, assuring himself that all was fine; how far could one man go in a night? The sight of his crusty ground disappeared, once again locked in the grassy trails beside the stream. Maybe he did pick a bad road. Worst of all, was the hunger creeping up on him. It came in like a screaming child, only a hindrance for the one listening to it gurgle and spit, but not pains. His head felt light, dry, adrenaline softly pumping to make due with the lack of nutrients, it was almost enjoyable. The weakness in his feet disappeared with his natural endorphins, but as soon as that wore off, he was left with only a headache, and the sore muscles from before.

Aaron stood there, gripping his unsettled belly. He could feel the movements under his skin and something hard. Rubbing the ripples of his stomach, Aaron confounded, shocked at it’s grainy feel. “I guess I have been working hard lately...” He had never felt muscles like these before, feeling each hard earned freaky lump; not only on his abdominal, but his legs, his arms as well. He could feel them move under the skin, their friction, and their weakness. Aaron smiled at his progress of endurance. Actual strength and muscles, he could take on the world, just not this one.

In the distance, he could see some colour beginning to speckle the path, and some rather unsightly berries began to become very visible. Their soft draping thorn protrusions were unique, it’s hard skin unrecognizable, it’s colour... Ripe? Aaron pulled it from it’s stem with ease, though a fruit before it’s harvest, and he split it in half. The skin gave way, taring instead of breaking, and a somewhat large pit was revealed under the thin fruity flesh of it’s moist holdings. Deep red, like a pomegranate or a cherry, it’s thick juices stained Aaron’s fingers. It smelled pungently citrus, earthy like a beet, sweet and mystique like a crushed juniper leaf. Aaron placed it lightly on his tongue, it’s taste, unpalatable: bitter, astringent, sour and tangy, pleau! Pleau! Aaron spat, He-pleau! He-pleau! Wiping the burning sensation from the tip of his tongue with the rippled stitching of his shirt’s collar. It didn’t take a genius to tell that it was a bad time waiting to happen. It felt as though the juice left a squeaky layer on his teeth; when the fek did it touch his teeth?

Aaron searched the foliage, but the only fruit he saw, was the same he had eaten raw. Stubbing his toe, Aaron jumped to curse, and stopped to wonder. It seemed as though he found hope in the soil. Still far too moist, perhaps he could con himself a few steps forward after all. Aaron felt the ground, ripping a stone up from it’s holdings, and inspected it’s sharp protrusion. At first he had considered it a gemstone, but the dirt caked shale fell off from it’s flinty shape, only to be a common rock; and still no arid homeland soil.

Aaron’s mind seemed to be lagged, burning off the endorphins that his body was producing. He had heard a noise coming from behind him for a few seconds now, discarding it until his mind peaked to pay it heed. It was clear, easy to hear, yet he thought nothing of it, and this realization was concerning. To know something was coming, and care not for what it was. Aaron risen his guard, turning towards the beast. It was a familiar face, grey fur, long snout, it was confirmed that he was nowhere near Kansas anymore. The canine lunged foolhardily, in a playful tease, growling to intimidate it’s fleetish pray. Aaron thought to his trail behind him, and onto the strange overwhelming focus that swept through him, recalling every detail from memory with confidence. Every dip, and every turn to evade his assailant, recalled in perfect clarity. The part of his brain that second guessed himself, turned off, and he was left with a stern reality: It’s power built legs, the speed of a quadrupedal predator, if Aaron turned his back, he would be field mouse in comparison. Aaron gripped his rock, slowly crouching to pick up another, but the tricky beast became aware of Aaron’s stance. A crouching surrender to a canine creature, is a pose to pounce, and the nightmarish wolf lunged for war.

Aaron stepped to his side, cowering from it’s first serious strike. It swiped it’s claws mid leap, but the pivotal reach of it’s anatomy, limited it severely. It turned swiftly for a quick succession, hoping to overwhelm the pray before Aaron could become limber enough to counter the spry hunter. Aaron stepped backwards, avoiding the underside of it’s paws, from where only laid a barbed hook to pull him into it’s mouth. It’s hopping pattern seemed to be similar to the last, and quickly Aaron managed to match rhythm, and the hunter evolved also.

It ran low to the ground, closing a distance before committing it’s assault in the air, or off balance upon it’s back legs. Aaron kept his arms up high, away from the grip of the creature’s hooks. With it’s malicious attempt in arms range, Aaron threw his knee into the beast’s side, winding it enough to close the combat. The blind retaliation towards the boy’s throat received with a dropping of Aaron’s arms upon it’s head, just above the reach of it’s deadly grips, and smashed the oversized snout into the ground.

It rose quickly disoriented, sneezing as it’s eyes burned with a blighting hatred, and it ignored it’s injuries for a vicious charge. The ferocious momentum of it’s blind rush could not turn when Aaron sidestepped it, noticing it’s change of target for his legs. It skid to make a return, and Aaron knew he could not keep this dance up forever. It’s berserk rage returned with even more tremendous speed, ripping towards Aaron with ravenous insanity. Aaron weaved, barely able to escape the teeth grazing his pant legs.

Aaron clung to the blockage of a tree to halt the running bull-charge for his feet, and placed the predator into a tactical disadvantage. As it’s rushing was hindered by the woodland roadblock, the beast leapt in slow, close proximity, and Aaron evolved again. With an unexpected weave away from the protection of his tree, Aaron diked out the trickster with his own, learning from each lesson of it’s anatomy. Slamming the sharp spine of his rock into the predator’s temples, Aaron smashed it’s head into bark, and the beast fell down like a sack of shit.

It rolled in agony, whimpering, wavering as it howled off key and staggered, falling between steps. It thrashed it’s body against the ground, gasping for air, kicking a crying call for salvation, before stilling itself over top an undug grave. Aaron circled the trickster, inspecting the hanging tongue and inanimate breath. It’s nose, clotted with a grizzly liquid that also came from it’s seized open eye, laid dead upon the ground. It’s blood, still draining from the impact left on it’s head. Aaron trembled, the rock falling from his defensive hands. His heart winced, shocked to have actually taken a life. His enemy, now fallen, could not meet his eyes, and what was once living was now returned to the earth. Every moment it had to continue, ever thought it ever had, wiped away to the abyss of silence. It’s warmth fades, it’s fur falls, and it’s meat offered to the birds and then to the worms. It was unavoidable, it would have been Aaron just the same, yet Aaron feared what he had done. The shivers of a hunters first kill, just as his Father told him about. “Nah,” Aaron said to his dad, looking elsewhere in the room, “I could kill and animal, it wouldn’t bother me any.” His pride called out, as his dad recalled the sorrow.

Between laughing and crying for the foolishness of his boy, Paul returned, “We’ll just see about that...”

Aaron cried out, because he could not put the soul back into the body that he freed it from. A part of himself closed off, feeling the emptyness through the air, feeling the life fade from it forever. Never to meet eyes again. Something that could not be undone.

Aaron sat there, mourning the sight. He had lost all will to fool himself any longer, he was lost, hungry, tired, and in peril. Aaron would have rather so much as rolled over and waited for the ravens, but he was still thinking, wallowing, alive. Aaron threw his fist upon the ground and looked to the hungered beast, that laid it’s body to the soil. Aaron lifted himself, walked over and closed it’s eyes, or tried to anyway. He inspected the impact, the cause of his distress as though hoping it was a misunderstanding, but the cold neck and stiffened limbs had already set in. It was a perfect hit, incredible, unbelievably executed, just like this poor creature. Aaron should be proud, a warrior who’s skills could become immeasurable, yet a pacifist at heart. “Fuck...” Aaron spat, and his belly rumbled. Aaron returned his gaze to the free meal, and felt sick. He never wanted this at the cost of his own belly, but the price had already been paid, now only for it to be discarded for nothing.

Aaron pulled out a stick from the bush, straight, with a crook part way up. He snapped it in half, taking the wooden drill with him as he found a flattened partner, specifically the one that he torn from the stump beside him. Aaron sat down, contemplating what little he understood of the method, and readied himself. “I suppose it’s time I learned how to do this...” Taking his two components, with some kindling, and the hopes of starting a fire. He would need strength to continue, even at the meat of a scavenger.

Aaron put his pieces together, rubbing the stick against the indentation of his harthboard. He had no idea what to do, only a memory of what he had seen, and the desperation to make it happen. His focus bore into the board, moreso than the widdling stick he spun between his hands. Nothing else seemed to reach him; and just as the sound of danger could be heard and discarded, Aaron could hear another voice that echoes were met the same. He heard it last night, he remembered it, and in parts perhaps even today; a voice inside, that in hearing, Aaron had no care that it was there... and yet it spoke to him, with another, and they called to him. “You need me... You need me...” While the other, pleading him not to loose that hope enough to do it.