Fiction exerpt: Nate and Hanae’s Destiny

To Cathy Collar, 

who inspired me
to invite gods and goddesses
to play in the turf of this story.

 

Where was my reason when I needed it. Where was the help. And, now, where am I. Few things grow in the desert. Yet, some things grow and some things crawl in it.

Sunlight can be the companion of blindness.

Eyes closed to preserve their moisture, Nate crawls another inch. Still no map. Still no water. His life shows in his mind as random flashes, a collage in progress. It seems like a fantasy that could have been imagined all along; all his love affairs, his romances, his desires, his lust, meant not a thing now. Nate experiences the thought not a thing tangibly as it merges with and echoes into his breath.

A beauty appears in Nate’s mind, exposing herself out from a water fall, more sensual than his most daring dreams. Who are you, his body says in thought form.

Astarte, she mouths with her lips.

Light emanates from her and water drips from her, both touching Nate to abandon. Perhaps, he thinks, death comes as a blissful vision.

I am not death, she breathes in his naval center.

Who then.

One who embodies passion.

For real?

Yeah.

I was giving it up.

That’s why I am here with you and not death.

How good is that to me, now.

A quiet breath moves Nate’s body, imperceptibly.

You need your passion to survive.

How.

Remember what you were once passionate about.

I have forgotten. I thought water was what I needed now.

Your dreams are the water you seek.

For real?

Yeah.

I had given them up.

That’s why I am here, with you.

Am I meant to live then.

More than ever.

Why this.

How else would you know there is water within you.

A breath moves through Nate.

And there is more. You are addicted to giving up.

So, this is a test.

No. Think of the butterfly needing to break out of its cocoon. If someone puts a tear in it, the butterfly will never fly. The cocoon is not a test to the butterfly. It is a means to give it the strength it needs to transform. You are in your cocoon.

It’s impossible. I’m dying.

Only if you give up.

(soon to be published in a collection of shorts called CONSTELLATIONS)