Scraps of A Mind

Fisher

At the end of the pier stands a man. His back is to me, the folds of his clothes shifting under the touch of a soft wind. He doesn't move, frozen in the moment he stared out over the misty waters.

Slowly I approach, leaning forwards to see his face before my feet get there. A drop of water hangs off the tip of his nose, hovering over a golden nose ring fogged up with the plumes of his breath. Like an icy dragon chilling the air, or the door of the freezer left open.

There's a trail of blood snaking down the side of his mouth. He must have fought hard to get here, like I.

"How did you get here?" I ask, he's the only one I've seen since arriving.

Ripples fling themselves recklessly across the water, -he doesn't answer- while dark fish swish their slimy fins. I can hear them, rather than see them. Their gleaming black eyes peering at me through my imagination.

I stand beside him, my head only reaching his shoulder. He doesn't seem to notice when I stick my foot in the water, but he licks his lips, smearing the blood.

The both of us are resisting the urge to jump in. We fought so hard to get here, surely one dip below the surface of the lake wouldn't hurt. But this is a strange new land. No struggle or war. Each time the trees rustle my fists clench, teeth locked tight. I want to stare up at the dusty sky and forget.

I won't jump. I know he knows, he won't jump either.

"How many years?" I pull my foot back onto the pier.

He turns finally, tilting his chin down to look at me. There's a scar on his cheek, a bit of dirt smudged under his left eye (right to him). Small things that mix into the storm of his face.

"I lost count after a while." he murmurs in a voice that is rough with disuse, "It felt like many lifetimes."

And eagle swoops overhead, screaming into the vast sky. Or maybe at us, who clawed our way to this dreamy haven. The halfway place for weary souls who still have many stairs to climb. Who shed our blood and others to fall through rank after rank.

"Have you found it yet?" I question, because that's what we're both thinking.

He sighs, a mountain letting out its dying breath, "No. I'm beginning to wonder, if we must wait till the end."

I nod slightly, setting my hand on his shoulder for balance as I lean over the edge. "What if we missed it along the way? In our hurry to just get here." I gesture around.

For some reason he smiles, much softer than my grip on his shoulder, "I don't know."

We both stare at the lake, steeling ourselves; maybe looking. We can't have made it here for nothing. They promised us peace, the wisdom of an ancient beast.

It nags in the back of my head that He is the beast of wisdom and wives' tales. But that argument has no evidence. I throw it away.

"Sit down with me for a minute," he beckons, crossing his legs. "Take it in."

I do. Staring at his face under the white light of a clouded sun, wood grains digging into my bare feet. This angle makes him look older than thirty..

"The silence is nice." I say, resolving my thoughts.

He is the beast of your travels. The fish seem to whisper.

The eagle screams in agreement.