This has actually gotten to be longer than I had intended. Forgive me. This is not the end, but another build-up. Perhaps some of you can see what kind of shape this is turning out to be. I assure you, though, the ending is not as easily assessed as you might think.
This chapter was very difficult to portray. I hope I have done it justice. Much of this is symbolic, and nearly the whole chapter plays on the perception of the character. This can seem a little unreal and over dramatized. If you think about it, though, this is the way we are inclined to think, especially when our imaginations are taken into account. All I ask is that you try to suspend your disbelief and hang on. The next, and hopefully final chapter will explain and resolve everything, although some of you may be disappointed. I apologize in advance.
I will not write my warning again. If you do not know what I am talking about, then need to find a different story to read. Maybe one with pictures. And one-syllable words.
Nor will I write a disclaimer. I stated everything quite clearly in the first chapter, and I doubt it's really necessary to have it emblazoned on every chapter. Even the blood-sucking lawyers aren't that neurotic.
"Reverberations"
*Depths of blue and drops of green. Serene. Amid Turmoil. Coral among Sharks. Each wave working together, yet attaching nowhere and lying in nothing. Oh endless river of doom, Crystal void. Is this to be my final resting place? Am I to sleep in your depths? If my world I am to place under you caress, What Then?*
Even Helga had to give a mirthless smirk at the creation of that one. Where did she come up with such strange poems on the spur of the moment? She felt a small pang of regret, then. It would be such a shame not to write that one down, not to see the smooth lines on the paper, marking forever that expression of herself. Not to look over those solid, shaky lines and be able to *see* the words come to life, and hear them just as they sounded in her head. It would be a shame.
But she would never write down another poem. Maybe she would die out here today, and maybe she would not, but she could never write down a poem again. What was it worth to her anymore? Her secret, that laughable little *infatuation*, did she even feel that way anymore? Admittedly, she couldn't feel anything. It was as if she were very old, looking back on a schoolgirl crush half a century before. She was lethargic and cold, and she couldn't seem to dredge up those old familiar feelings.
*Oh how I -hate- you... and yet, how I adore you...*
It was almost funny, those "intense feelings". They seemed pretty insignificant now. Stupid and melodramatic. *Hate*? *Love*? Where did that get her? She may have thought she felt them for Arnold, but how did she know how they felt? She'd never once been on the receiving end. In fact, outside of mushy romance movies, which she didn't particularly like, she'd never even seen them. The closest she'd come was seeing the praise and attention that was lavished upon her older sister. Well love anyway.
Hate, she had plenty of experience receiving *that*.
This time she didn't even shiver. What an accomplishment.
She startled a moment, realizing how bitter she had become. Her shoulders slowly slumped as all her anger and hurt left her in a sudden rush. She actually began to *see* the water she had been staring at for hours, began to look into it's depths. Instead of love, hate, anger or even the cynicism that had so ruled her young life, all she found inside was a muted sadness.
Looking into those icy blue depths she couldn't help but think of that famous quote, "It is a far, far better thing I do..."
Realizing she had spoken aloud, she continued, "Than I have ever done before. I don't deserve to die. I don't deserve to live. Eternally in between the world of the living and the dead. Right and wrong. Good and bad. Silent terror run from me... finally."
*****
Arnold's first steps onto the dock were hesitant. The dock swayed and shuddered under his feet. Several times he had to catch his breath, hoping and praying that the rotten planks would not give way beneath him.
He watched Helga as he walked towards her. She was silent and almost stoic. Her body was held perfectly still. Like she was in a trance. Then, almost imperceptibly, her shoulders slumped, and her body seemed almost to fold into itself. She was giving off an air of despair that had all of his warning sensors flashing.
Somehow realizing how little time he had left, he quickened his pace across, heedless, now, of the danger. He finally reached her, and stood by her side breathing in the atmosphere of doom like a cloud of smoke. He wondered how she was not suffocating. Then glancing over at her, he realized maybe she was, and had been for a while.
Helga still didn't seem to realize he was there, even though he was standing right next to her, shivering in the midst of an icy wind that did not seem to affect her. Was she just ignoring him, then, or did she really not see him?
"Helga," He said, loudly in her ear. "We got to get off of here!"
Still she looked only out at the sea as she opened her mouth, but at least she was going to talk to him. "It is a far, far better thing I do, than I have ever done before."
Her voice was very soft, and hard to hear over the restless wind, but he suddenly realized that she wasn't talking to him at all, but to herself.
"I don't deserve to die. I don't deserve to live. Eternally in between the world of the living and the dead. Right and wrong. Good and bad. Silent terror, run from me..."
Her voice dropped to a whisper so soft that had the wind not died completely, and the waves not stopped their rushing at just that moment, even standing beside her, he would not have heard.
"Finally."
Fear gripped his heart. This wasn't just some poem she'd read out of a book. This was from her heart. She really felt this. And if he didn't do something soon, she just might...
Terror overcame rationality, and he gripped her arm, ready to forcibly pull her from the decaying dock. She finally seemed to realize he was there, turning her face towards his and meeting his eyes.
He'd never in his life even imagined seeing what was in those eyes, and the sight haunted him for years. Her eyes were dead - painted stones emblazoned in her head in place of the real organs. There was just... nothing... in them. No fear, anger, surprise... just nothing. They stared sightlessly through him, pulling out his inmost self and examining it, then tossing it carelessly back. They saw beyond him into something deeper than he would ever know.
He shivered, and stumbled backwards a step, almost letting go of her and falling into the water himself. His grip tightened at the last moment, though, and he managed to steady himself.
Now those eyes finally registered pain. Placidly her pain-laced gaze lighted on his hand gripping her arm. Her eyes widened slightly then, as if surprised that he was touching her, or perhaps that she could feel it. She stared at the spot for a moment more, then those eyes rolled into the back of her head, and she collapsed heavily onto the dock.
The dock shook violently at the unexpected blow, and both Arnold and Helga were nearly thrown from it. Arnold managed to grab on to a post supporting the dock and secure Helga's arm as well, and he hung on for dear life.
The dock gave a mighty creak, and the middle half of the dock suddenly fell out and became driftwood.
Gripping the post as tightly as he could Arnold forced himself to open his eyes. The portion of the dock the two children had been standing on, was thankfully still underneath them, but there was a gaping hole in the middle of the dock. Arnold couldn't see how he could get them both back.
Waiting until the figurative dust settled, Arnold started to struggle to his feet. He would have made it at least that far, if the impending storm hadn't decided to finally converge upon them. As the frail wooden structure crumbled beneath him, Arnold watched the sea surge up and seem to wrap itself about Helga, pulling her into itself. He caught up her hand before the sea could take her completely. The sea retaliated ruthlessly, beating at him to make him let her go. He held on though, struggling within the grips of the raw power of nature.
It was a strange experience for him too, watching it all as if in slow motion. Feeling as if he were not a part of this himself, but being caught up just the same. It was a very strange experience.
His eyes squeezed shut once more, and he forced himself to breath. Someone was screaming in the distance, but he couldn't be sure. He was starting to lose his grip, on Helga and the post he'd clung to. The battering waves were starting to lull him into a kind of peaceful reassurance.
"Let her go," he could almost hear to voices urging, "Let her become part of us. We will not hurt her. We will not let her come to harm." The sea was calming, slowing its intensity at the end of its storm to convince him. "All you have to do is let her go, and she will never be unhappy again. We will take care of her. Better yet, you come with her and see. We will take care of both of you."
"Alright", he murmured his capitulation to the sea, and the almost-voices halted. His grip on the post loosened and failed. A flash of white light was the last thing he saw as his eyes closed in unconsciousness.
This chapter was very difficult to portray. I hope I have done it justice. Much of this is symbolic, and nearly the whole chapter plays on the perception of the character. This can seem a little unreal and over dramatized. If you think about it, though, this is the way we are inclined to think, especially when our imaginations are taken into account. All I ask is that you try to suspend your disbelief and hang on. The next, and hopefully final chapter will explain and resolve everything, although some of you may be disappointed. I apologize in advance.
I will not write my warning again. If you do not know what I am talking about, then need to find a different story to read. Maybe one with pictures. And one-syllable words.
Nor will I write a disclaimer. I stated everything quite clearly in the first chapter, and I doubt it's really necessary to have it emblazoned on every chapter. Even the blood-sucking lawyers aren't that neurotic.
"Reverberations"
*Depths of blue and drops of green. Serene. Amid Turmoil. Coral among Sharks. Each wave working together, yet attaching nowhere and lying in nothing. Oh endless river of doom, Crystal void. Is this to be my final resting place? Am I to sleep in your depths? If my world I am to place under you caress, What Then?*
Even Helga had to give a mirthless smirk at the creation of that one. Where did she come up with such strange poems on the spur of the moment? She felt a small pang of regret, then. It would be such a shame not to write that one down, not to see the smooth lines on the paper, marking forever that expression of herself. Not to look over those solid, shaky lines and be able to *see* the words come to life, and hear them just as they sounded in her head. It would be a shame.
But she would never write down another poem. Maybe she would die out here today, and maybe she would not, but she could never write down a poem again. What was it worth to her anymore? Her secret, that laughable little *infatuation*, did she even feel that way anymore? Admittedly, she couldn't feel anything. It was as if she were very old, looking back on a schoolgirl crush half a century before. She was lethargic and cold, and she couldn't seem to dredge up those old familiar feelings.
*Oh how I -hate- you... and yet, how I adore you...*
It was almost funny, those "intense feelings". They seemed pretty insignificant now. Stupid and melodramatic. *Hate*? *Love*? Where did that get her? She may have thought she felt them for Arnold, but how did she know how they felt? She'd never once been on the receiving end. In fact, outside of mushy romance movies, which she didn't particularly like, she'd never even seen them. The closest she'd come was seeing the praise and attention that was lavished upon her older sister. Well love anyway.
Hate, she had plenty of experience receiving *that*.
This time she didn't even shiver. What an accomplishment.
She startled a moment, realizing how bitter she had become. Her shoulders slowly slumped as all her anger and hurt left her in a sudden rush. She actually began to *see* the water she had been staring at for hours, began to look into it's depths. Instead of love, hate, anger or even the cynicism that had so ruled her young life, all she found inside was a muted sadness.
Looking into those icy blue depths she couldn't help but think of that famous quote, "It is a far, far better thing I do..."
Realizing she had spoken aloud, she continued, "Than I have ever done before. I don't deserve to die. I don't deserve to live. Eternally in between the world of the living and the dead. Right and wrong. Good and bad. Silent terror run from me... finally."
*****
Arnold's first steps onto the dock were hesitant. The dock swayed and shuddered under his feet. Several times he had to catch his breath, hoping and praying that the rotten planks would not give way beneath him.
He watched Helga as he walked towards her. She was silent and almost stoic. Her body was held perfectly still. Like she was in a trance. Then, almost imperceptibly, her shoulders slumped, and her body seemed almost to fold into itself. She was giving off an air of despair that had all of his warning sensors flashing.
Somehow realizing how little time he had left, he quickened his pace across, heedless, now, of the danger. He finally reached her, and stood by her side breathing in the atmosphere of doom like a cloud of smoke. He wondered how she was not suffocating. Then glancing over at her, he realized maybe she was, and had been for a while.
Helga still didn't seem to realize he was there, even though he was standing right next to her, shivering in the midst of an icy wind that did not seem to affect her. Was she just ignoring him, then, or did she really not see him?
"Helga," He said, loudly in her ear. "We got to get off of here!"
Still she looked only out at the sea as she opened her mouth, but at least she was going to talk to him. "It is a far, far better thing I do, than I have ever done before."
Her voice was very soft, and hard to hear over the restless wind, but he suddenly realized that she wasn't talking to him at all, but to herself.
"I don't deserve to die. I don't deserve to live. Eternally in between the world of the living and the dead. Right and wrong. Good and bad. Silent terror, run from me..."
Her voice dropped to a whisper so soft that had the wind not died completely, and the waves not stopped their rushing at just that moment, even standing beside her, he would not have heard.
"Finally."
Fear gripped his heart. This wasn't just some poem she'd read out of a book. This was from her heart. She really felt this. And if he didn't do something soon, she just might...
Terror overcame rationality, and he gripped her arm, ready to forcibly pull her from the decaying dock. She finally seemed to realize he was there, turning her face towards his and meeting his eyes.
He'd never in his life even imagined seeing what was in those eyes, and the sight haunted him for years. Her eyes were dead - painted stones emblazoned in her head in place of the real organs. There was just... nothing... in them. No fear, anger, surprise... just nothing. They stared sightlessly through him, pulling out his inmost self and examining it, then tossing it carelessly back. They saw beyond him into something deeper than he would ever know.
He shivered, and stumbled backwards a step, almost letting go of her and falling into the water himself. His grip tightened at the last moment, though, and he managed to steady himself.
Now those eyes finally registered pain. Placidly her pain-laced gaze lighted on his hand gripping her arm. Her eyes widened slightly then, as if surprised that he was touching her, or perhaps that she could feel it. She stared at the spot for a moment more, then those eyes rolled into the back of her head, and she collapsed heavily onto the dock.
The dock shook violently at the unexpected blow, and both Arnold and Helga were nearly thrown from it. Arnold managed to grab on to a post supporting the dock and secure Helga's arm as well, and he hung on for dear life.
The dock gave a mighty creak, and the middle half of the dock suddenly fell out and became driftwood.
Gripping the post as tightly as he could Arnold forced himself to open his eyes. The portion of the dock the two children had been standing on, was thankfully still underneath them, but there was a gaping hole in the middle of the dock. Arnold couldn't see how he could get them both back.
Waiting until the figurative dust settled, Arnold started to struggle to his feet. He would have made it at least that far, if the impending storm hadn't decided to finally converge upon them. As the frail wooden structure crumbled beneath him, Arnold watched the sea surge up and seem to wrap itself about Helga, pulling her into itself. He caught up her hand before the sea could take her completely. The sea retaliated ruthlessly, beating at him to make him let her go. He held on though, struggling within the grips of the raw power of nature.
It was a strange experience for him too, watching it all as if in slow motion. Feeling as if he were not a part of this himself, but being caught up just the same. It was a very strange experience.
His eyes squeezed shut once more, and he forced himself to breath. Someone was screaming in the distance, but he couldn't be sure. He was starting to lose his grip, on Helga and the post he'd clung to. The battering waves were starting to lull him into a kind of peaceful reassurance.
"Let her go," he could almost hear to voices urging, "Let her become part of us. We will not hurt her. We will not let her come to harm." The sea was calming, slowing its intensity at the end of its storm to convince him. "All you have to do is let her go, and she will never be unhappy again. We will take care of her. Better yet, you come with her and see. We will take care of both of you."
"Alright", he murmured his capitulation to the sea, and the almost-voices halted. His grip on the post loosened and failed. A flash of white light was the last thing he saw as his eyes closed in unconsciousness.