Fishermen A Tale Of The Undecisive

The Journey

Succumbing to such laid out logic, Vinny firmly grasped his bike and headed out.

He rushed out of town as fast as he possibly could, with a faint goal of reaching the closest beach without a single stop. The trip would entail less than twenty kilometers of road. The boy got this knowledge from a balanced guess of all the information the disputing locals have given him throughout the years. Of course, not one of them actually has measured the path, but it wouldn't matter. He has taken the path many times, and this would not be too different. Never alone before, but his independence was of the upmost importance. He would make it.

The road was curvy but flat, so the journey seemed possible and fairly easy. He had been in the best shape so far in his life, but hadn't recently biked. He hated nothing more than for an estranged unconnected member to tangle in affairs that do not concern them in the slightest. Such case befell in the storing of his bicycle, without his permission or knowledge, in a crumbling storage area, for about three years.

He set off in the hottest period of the day, two O'clock, with white and grey patterned shorts and a dark grey tank top. Quit unprepared he knew he was. Uncaringly, he brushed off all he lacked. The only particular that he forgot was water, the most needed resource of life. He would learn better for the future, if he had one. Leaving such a precious substance just might bring the end of him. "This trip won't take that long" his logic went, and his main concern was the suns toll on his skin. Leaving the thought in "Plus, my arms could use some color" he left the thought at bay.

He flew through the path speedier than ever before, testing the limits of his abilities. A true test of endurance, he was sure this would prove, the type one could never have the measure of, in the company of others. Rarely did a person share his views on anything. The loneliness did in fact trouble him, but the thought of being with others sounded worse. The feeling of his life, lonely because he mostly felt good around no one else but himself. Life is in itself an ambivalent paradox. People in general proved to be nothing more than sheep herded by the pastor, society. The tragedy of the modern age is that it herds them towards an unfavorable path, filled only with meaninglessness and distractions. Only the same could thrive, while the different were silenced.

No one else wanted him, and he wanted no one else that he knew of. The ones he wanted where only figments of pure unstoppable imagination, the likes of which barely seen. If only one could transport what he has thought of to reality. Perhaps that is the entire point of living. Far greater than anything else heard of, I'm sure. The vain feeling of wanting to be wanted could never cease to bug him. It would pop up in the most monumental of times, where work and self-prosperity would be the key. Alas if ever he were to shake it, actually understanding that it would actually be the product of pure vanity to want to be liked by people he himself did not like. Remaining lonely was a far better option than being surrounded either by people who do not want you around or by people you don't want to be around Thought and self-reflection was a phenomenal rejuvenator for the love of one's own life, at all times. It needed to become more common.

The houses around him offered a pleasing visual of country perfection. Flowers bloomed delightfully in view, easily reachable fruits of the season glowed all around the white fenced yards. With all this, happiness seemed abundant. In contrast to the grayness of his own home, the call for more color burned within his hear more than any need. An expression of freedom, rebellion and confidence the likes he unintentionally brushed off to the corners of his everlasting imagination for so long. Expanding the corners is what he truly wishes. It is what he is. The unacceptable, unachievable and out of the ordinary ideas that make him.

Despite the deep thoughts, his journey still exercised his full potential; flowing through the road with maximum speed. The only other travelers on that stretch of country road now appeared in front of him. Two other boys, one about his age and the other much younger. They were barely exercising themselves, obviously choosing to pass the road in minimal exaction. He passed them within minutes of laying eyes upon their existence.

His legs began to feel heavy, their movement abstracted by hardship. Sweat poured down his face. That inelegant yet very utilitarian defense against overheating which plagued within deep hatred, only recently to be seen anew. Not as a uncomfortable nuisance, but as a utilitarian compromise and indicator of progress. One must betake any form of physical action in order to attain it, after all. One can only enjoy the sweat on their brow if it was earned. The same amount of sweat can be made by idling around in the sun, tho that never proves even close to satisfactory. This thought fulled his pursuit all the more. The boy pushed on through, launching his bike ever farther with every next pedal, all the while fighting with the countering wind. Its natural force would bend for no one, but neither would Vinny. The most dangerous person has nothing left on this earth. Tho this sentence has ever truly carpentered Vinny, never sought that he is not dangerous. Intent and decisiveness would only be needed from him.Never do as I did. Or did I? Was it with him? I can never clear my head well enough. Nonetheless, this is not the time. Back to the story then.  

All of a sudden an inexplicable felling of unease overtook him, causing the boy to turn around. Surprise grasped his face as  he saw the chubby boy peddling his bike in a maddening stance. His older companion seemed to have given up, or lacked the diabolical nature of his companion. Something seemed similar with this one, tho Vinny couldn't match the sighting. He got the feeling even before, when he passed them both, but found it of no importance at the time. Not after what was going to happen soon. Something felt wrong. This wasn't right.  The goal remained, reach without stopping. The next time he turned, the boy was within arms reach of him, chasing him with a destructive pace, obsessed drooling and unmatched determination.  Seized with uncontrollable fear  Vinny lunged forward at once. Just then, the boy struck him.

He no longer understand where it was he found himself. Velvet abruptly absorbed the world. Blood soaked everything around. Mist rose despicably around him. Everything changed. His adversary now transformed into a full knight on horseback. Curious to see that even the chubby one seemed to be taken aback by the wacky events. Or maybe he only fancies playing with his food, since his swift attack manifested quite rapidly. He now charged towards Vinny. Our hero found himself changed as well. Looking down, a army blue suit from colonial times embraced him. The straps seemed to go down forever. The fit seemed perfect. The feel, powerful. Within his own hands, a boomstick laid tightly grasped in his left hand. In the confusion, too much time had been rewarded to the rival. With the advantage, he managed to permit a devastating blow to our heroes chest. Without time to consider why had this mysterious adversary arisen, specifically against him in such collisions, he acted. As the rival mounted for a second blow, Vinny pointed the gun in a panicked rage and squeezed. 

Powder now overtook his vision. His enemy dissipater in the smoke. The bright sunlight shined over the valley once again. As to the pursuer, no trace of him remained. The last Vinny saw of him was muddied by the blow. He never did understand why he seemed so familiar.

He sped through the last stretch of rocky coast. All his efforts went towards biking. At least physical action has the effect of clearing one's mind.

The sun had evidently took its toll on him. His skin shone red as the sky had before. The thought had to pass his mind: Was it him that caused it? Perhaps. In any case... answers where nowhere to be gained.

The main goal was now achieved. He stopped at the closest beach. Travel took him forty minutes. A lackluster achievement to be sure, but nonetheless relief was in the air. He arrived. Practice of freedom at its most instantaneous.