Radar on :
Please tell me there is a dark side to the magic. Because any refernce to Star wars would be awesome.
Sunday, March 18. 2007Between the Rain Drops
We must be the strangest outlaws ever, I thought, as we carefully locked the back door, and crunched across the graveled drive. We only had a few hours until nightfall; we had spent hours packing, repacking, and cleaning. The cabin was now cleaner than it had been when we entered. A note on the kitchen table explained what we had taken, and why. I thought about it as we walked. I was sure that David had a reason for doing what he did, but I was equally sure that he wouldn't be taking the time to explain it to me.
That guess was borne out over the next few days. We didn't push quite as hard now; the fishing gear, and other food that we had taken made food less of a problem, and we were becoming hardened to the constant walking. Our nights were much more comfortable, too. It's amazing what a sleeping bag and a tent can do. So, the days settled into a routine. We woke up early every morning, walked until we were warm, and ate a light breakfast. We started walking again soon afterwards, and walked until mid-afternoon. We stopped for lunch and a nap, and then walked again until just before sunset. It was my job to set up camp while David went after food. As we walked, we talked. Just about everything came up at some point, but every time that magic came up, David quickly changed the subject. If I tried to force the issue, he became sullen and silent, so I soon gave up. I still wanted to know what was going on. I still wanted to learn more about the magic. I still wondered what would become of my "mission" now that I had been rejected by the elements. But having someone to talk to was more important to me than answering those questions. After several days of this routine, I woke one night to the soft plop of rain on the tent. I love rain. I love staring up into the clouds, watching the drops fall, feeling them burst against my skin. As quietly as I could, I unzipped the flap of the tent, and squirmed out into the night. I shivered against the cool night, but the patter of rain entranced me. I closed my eyes and raised my face to the sky.
I was surprised when the rain stopped. It didn't peter out gradually. It stopped. I opened my eyes and glanced around. Raindrops hung motionless in the air around me. I reached out to touch one of them, but my hand passed through it as if it wasn't there. Then I heard the voice again. I had convinced myself that the night out on the balcony was a dream. Now, though, I was sure that it wasn't. "It isn't always going to be like this." I knew I wouldn't see anything, but I still looked around. "Like what?" "Like it is now. You following him around, hoping that he'll answer your questions, hoping that he'll drop some little bit of information, hoping that he'll teach you something new." "It really isn't that bad." "Maybe not. But it really isn't that good, either." "So, what's going to change?" "A lot of things. You're going to out grow him. One day, you'll look back, and say, he was a useful tool. But you'll also recognize that he was nothing more than that, that he was as important as a wrench, or a shovel." "He's my friend, not a wrench or a shovel. Besides, I'm not going to outgrow him. He's a great witch. Or questor. Whatever you want to call them." The voice interrupted my defense. "Is he?" The voice asked gently. It was not confronting me, just asking me to question myself. I paused, stumped by the question. It had seemed so obvious to me when I said it, but was it true? "I . . . " My voice trailed off into silence. I wanted to defend my friend, to stand up to the voice, and to proclaim his power, but I found myself staring at the truth, and I couldn't say anything but, "I guess I don't really know." "David." The voice sounded sad. "David is one of so many who might have been great. He had everything going for him: an amazing family, an affinity for the elements, a wonderful imagination, and a thirst for learning." I waited for the voice to continue. After a few moments of silence, it said, simply, "he will never be great. He turned from that path long ago. Now, he will only be a stepping stone in your path." Trackbacks
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The Mad Giggler on :
There's always a Dark Side, Radar.
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