Midnight Dreams And Visions

4 - Victor

There are some that seek. What do they find?

~~~

It was 3:37 p.m. on Tuesday. Victor stopped typing halfway through writing an email. He rose and walked away from his desk.

"It's not like those changes make any difference," said Connie, speaking to Michael who listlessly doodled on a tablet.

"Where are you going?" Michael asked.

Victor ignored him. He made his way through the kitchenette. He ignored the unspoken greeting tossed his way by the new girl. The elevator was thankfully empty.

Outside the street which echoed with noise. Victor watched the cars drive by, counting the cadence in each direction. He stepped through the wisps cast by smokers. He thought he caught a glimpse of something whispered but the wind – warm and playful – tore it away.

Victor made his way across the road, ignoring angry honks and unhappy stares. On the other side he passed through the gates to the city park. It was early spring and the cherry trees were ablaze with white and yellow flowers. He breathed in deeply, closing his eyes momentarily, wishing he could sift through the fragrances.

There was a peal of noise and Victor half jumped. A group of school children were coming towards him in a line, giggling and chatting, hand-in-hand. He stood still and the children parted hands and walked around him. They screeched with laughter, despite the teacher's angry look. Victor tried to keep his smile although he was very unnerved. He didn't want to disturb things, to shake it all up.

The children left. Victor sat on a bench, trying to ignore the fact that exactly seven sparrows danced around his feet, pecking at forgotten crumbs. He shut his eyes, recounting the steps he had taken. When he felt a chill he drew his cardigan around him and looked up. The sun had stepped behind a building.

Victor hurried out from the park, making his way quickly through past dingy shops and offices. The streets here were messier, crushed beer cans and tossed out takeaway containers brought on pigeons, and at night, Victor knew, rats.

He paused, kneeling down by a homeless man asleep in the doorway. The small of piss and vomit lingered. The man opened one eye and stared at Victor, blinking in the shadowing light.

The grey bearded man whispered something. Victor craned to hear but the man did not speak again.

He continued on, passing by tatty old apartments and empty lots filled with broken bottles and dead weeds. He noticed an old woman staring at him and he stared back, no emotion on his face. Her radio buzzed in the background, a drone of noise beckoning. This was no surprise. Victor expected it. There had been something odd about the children.

He thought of his office. He imagined his wife at home. He should be on his way back. He was meant to pick up some zip lock bags. He wasn't sure what time it was. He had left his phone and his wallet on his desk. Connie would be furious.

The street went beneath a highway overpass. Victor crossed under the snaking road, hearing the thunderous consonants and long vowels of the cars and trucks above. Some of the vehicles wouldn't be from here. He decided that most would not have travelled far enough.

At the other side of the street he climbed a set of stairs that led up to a wooded escarpment. He stared back at the town. The sun spread long shadows between buildings. He could feel it slipping away, the final strands of light leaving a fleeting warmth.

Victor's feet hurt. His shiny black shoes were scuffed. He reminded himself that he wouldn't need them much longer.

He shouldn't be here when night fell. He turned and walked into the woods, following a trail. By a fallen tree he took off his shoes and socks and rolled up his sleeves. He left the trampled way and continued deeper, feeling the earth grow damp beneath his feet. The air here was cool and honest.

As the shadows grew around him, rising taller alongside the trees Victor took off his shirt, pants and underwear, placing them neatly by a fern. He gave them one last glance and then continued on. His heart was pounding with anticipation.

Night birds began to call and creatures scuttled out of his way. These things could be trusted. The wind rose and the trees shifted and sighed, whispering to Victor until the day was all but gone. He began to hear their words.

Victor stopped to rest. His mouth was dry and he was thirsty. Somewhere far ahead he thought he could hear water. He imagined a stream babbling and flowing, tumbling over rocks worn down. A vein of stone and liquid, carved from the earth. It would break the treeline and he would stare up and see the stars and he would trace the hidden lines between their points.

He would drink from the stream and he would follow it upwards making his way in darkness with a map of secret words spelled out in his mind.