The Three Perfections

Ch 2: Abram

“The eye always fills in the imperfections.”     ~ Rabih Alameddine

Chapter Two:  Abram

I need my sanctuary.  I need to go to the woods and clear my head before going to the Centenary, but what I really want is to escape; to run like the wind and not stop until my father and the Petalisms are nothing but a distant memory.  But there is nowhere to run to, where I can’t be found, and you can’t run from the Petalisms. So my sanctuary will have to do. 

I leave the house, and run for the trees, like a moth drawn to a flame.  The forest is my flame.  It always has been.  The sound of my feet pounding on the dirt path beneath me, fills my ears as I run.  When I finally reach my destination, my lungs are on fire and my chest feels tight. 

I sit on the stream bank and let my breathing and heart beat slow.  Gradually the burning in my chest subsides, but the sting of my father’s words still lingers.  I try hard to get his words out of my head, and to discount their effect on me, but they still weigh heavily on my heart.   I am angry with myself for allowing his words to darken and burden my day.  It is supposed to be a day of celebration, but my father seems to have a natural talent for preventing other’s from experiencing joy.  It seems to be his greatest gift in life. 

My father is not an evil or hateful man, but he approaches life in such a pragmatic fashion that it leaves little room for happiness or understanding.  I have always felt as if I were a stranger to him.  I am a mystery to him, and he is a giant puzzle that I have never been able to solve.

I close my eyes and soak in my surroundings, trying to let my mind wander.  The birds call to one another in the tree tops above me.  The stream at my feet gently laps at the rocks as it flows lazily through the forest.  The smell of its dampness, and the fragrant lilies that grow along its banks surround me. This is my sanctuary. It is where I escape to when things become overwhelming.  Here I am able to focus on the beauty of nature, and forget about what is bothering me.

One of the positive things that came out of the Scourge, is that nature was spared from man's constant and destructive technological march forward.  Technology is rare now, and as a result so is polution, and development of the land.  Now that the earth is no longer being ravaged by mankind, nature has had the chance to recover, and return to its former glory. I am appreciative of this, every time I come to here in the woods to clear my head. 

I hoped that spending some time in my favorite spot would help to clear my mind, but my sanctuary seems to be failing me today. My father’s words continue to replay in my mind, and like an unwanted visitor they refuse to leave. 

As the events from earlier continue to replay in my mind, I am startled by the snap of a twig, and the rustlings of leaves.  The sound is too loud to have been made by a small forest creature.  My eyes instantly snap open, and I poise myself for action; my father’s training suddenly taking over.  I turn slowly to my left and carefully scan the woods in the direction the sound came from. 

I try to stay as still as possible, not wanting to draw attention to myself.  My heart beats faster than I thought it capable.  I slowly move my hand over the moss covered ground and through the dead leaf litter searching for some form of a weapon.  My hand connects with something solid and heavy; a rock, small enough for me to pick up with one hand, but substantial enough to do some real damage.  I grab ahold of it, and ready myself, not happy about the prone sitting position that I am in.  My position is unfortunate, but I will have to work with the situation at hand.  

I slowly pull my feet towards me, and draw my legs and knees to my chest, the large rock still gripped tightly in my hand.  I use my hands to push my weight onto my feet, ready to rise quickly.  Suddenly there is movement to my left, and then the sound of crunching leaves, closer this time.  I rise rapidly to my feet, and in one fluid motion turn to face my adversary, my weapon raised at shoulder height.  A tall figure enters the small clearing, and I hold the rock higher, preparing to take aim.  Then a familiar voice calls out.