Youth's Mist

Youth's Mist Ch 1

Youth's Mist 

Upon a snow filled day,

A dream drifted my way.

Of caverns and foggy mists,

Love filled and secret trysts.

Open the pages of your mind,

A secret world you may find.

~Amethysts Parks

Joven

There she goes; I knew she'd be here. Like a downbeat to a major concert, the baton is lifted by the conductor, instruments made ready, deep breaths are taken and one... two... three... and four with a swish of the conductor's hand, the music begins. Looking around the massive circular city water fountain the "players" are in place, with the usual assortment of kids, vendors and adults. The "baton" is lifted, I inhale, and release my air on one... two... three... and four. My personal "muse" comes to the concrete edge of the crystal-clear water, the music in my mind begins and she looks at me. Well, I know she can't really see me, but I know her—her hopes, her fears, the sadness so easily portrayed on her face. It's Monday at noon; she comes at the same time every day. Like a concert in a crescendo, I wait to see if she will be happy or perhaps aloof. I don't know her eye color, distorted by the flat screen monitors, but my eyes search her face looking for any emotion. Silently waiting for the grand finale to the personal music ensemble in my mind, I at last can let the breath out. She's near me and life is good. An obsession by definition is to be totally preoccupied by a person or persons. That word seems a tad strong, slightly creepy, so maybe let's call it infatuation. Or, maybe, we can call it a hankering. Yes, that definitely sounds a lot less bizarre.

Temporarily lost in my thoughts, I look away from the monitors. The excitement to see her is the same every time. Being this close to her, calms me. Shaking my head and focusing my attention back to the monitors, I suddenly realize she has moved. Onward, I go to the next monitor and track her, moving around the chairs in this room, as she sits on the concrete edge of the fountain and eats her daily lunch from her red bento box.

As I peer closer, it seems today's luncheon is a peanut butter and what is that? A sliced banana? Ok, odd combo, but hey, not everyone likes my favorite meal of pasta, tuna fish and tomato sauce. My favorite is probably an acquired taste to enjoy it. Just thinking of my meal of preference, my stomach grumbles. I should've brought my lunch so we could eat together. Well, we are heading back into the creepy definition of stalking, or I should say "observing" at close range. Much better. As she consumes her lunch I turn and look at my world, and I think it is not so different from hers.

My life under a water fountain, located in the middle of a large city, can have its challenges. The cavern is about the size of baseball field, and the dwelling areas are even bigger. The Mist ever hovering low throughout our settlement, the hum of the nearly 500 residents and the trickling of the huge stone sculpture jets in the center of the fountain make a comforting sound I've known so well from my youth. It's a beautiful city, even if it is concealed in secrecy beneath the waters of the fountain. I can just see the distant stone walls that border our underwater oasis and encase our tunnels. The light from the fountain brightens our town of Dewstone. Mirrors and skylights keep our days almost as bright as UpAbove, but without the harmful UV rays and smog. We have almost all that we need; we continue to flourish, with our own government, businesses, and eco system. Living in the Mist, with all my fellow Dewbies, I feel complete; mostly. Sure, I have the common pressures and responsibilities of a job, family and such, but here in the Mist, life is relaxing without hatred, animosity or violence. The ambiance created by its residents, babbling brook Hot Springs, and historical structures give it a dream-like quality.

Any issues that unexpectedly arise are brought before the Dewbie City Council and resolved. No need for police like the town UpAbove; or jails. No neighborhood watch patrols or information hot lines to report dark deeds are needed. Just last week Katherine B filed a complaint that Mel crushed her red roses while playing with the children, having jumped an azalea bush to play hide-n-seek. It went before the City Council, a compromise reached, and a new rose bush planted, and just last week they were both seen getting pedicures together over at "Polish Perfect". Now, when Bill purposely pressed close to Mrs. Robbins at "Perk You Up" coffee shop, he farted on her so he could take her spot in line for a latte, well, that needed a different resolution. But Bill didn't seem to mind too much bringing Mrs. Robbins her favorite latte for a week; not sure how he felt about having to clean her toilet though.

My mystery girl finishes her lunch and starts her daily stroll around the fountain. My gaze shifts from screen to screen, and mentally I track and walk with her. I've had girlfriends in my 28 years, but none that have captured me and kept me enthralled. I'm no Casanova; although, I've got some sweet moves.

Once, in elementary school, I wrote some poetry for my first-grade teacher, Mrs. Lewis, she went on and on over my many expressive words, my rhyming and even showed the other teachers (not sure why they laughed at it, unless they were jealous). I followed it up with pictures that illustrated the composition, but nothing ever became of our liaison. I'm assuming our age difference, or her husband, made our love fated from the start. It couldn't have been my fault, since I'm a fairly good looking Dewbie. When considering my charm, humor, good looks, and extreme modesty, I think I'm a pretty good catch. My mystery girl however is totally different.

So why not approach her? Um, hello! No sense in ruining this fantasy by actually talking to her. In history class, we were taught many tragic love stories that fail when the imaginary meets reality. Cleopatra and Mark Anthony, Heloise and Abelard, Queen Victoria and Prince Albert; this list goes on and on. Shakespeare was famous for doomed love interests. Having no desire to be added to the list, I'm satisfied to watch and desire from this side of the black and white monitors.

She can't see me, hear me, or smell me (even though daily showers are part of my life, I mean who wants a stinky Honorable Council Head Master Dewbie?) She doesn't even know of our underground existence, a misted oasis with mystical undertones. But still, my eyes follow her and my heart waits....