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Poet deVine
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Member Seraphic
since 1999-05-26
Posts 22612
Hurricane Alley

0 posted 2004-01-24 08:45 PM




The small red Miata slowed down, jerked, sputtered and died. Ron tried to start it again but there was no sound. He turned off the lights, even though they were not shining into the night.  He turned the key again. Nothing. Not a click or a cough.

For a few minutes he just sat there. He wasn’t sure which emotion he felt the strongest.  Anger? Yes. Anger that the car broke down at night on an unfamiliar road. Anger that he had started out late and had to rush, taking an unfamiliar shortcut.  Frustrated? Yes. Frustrated that he would miss the book signing set up for him at K College. Frustrated that he had lost control of what was happening to him.

He looked down at his wristwatch and hit the button. The eerie green glow showed off the digital numbers perfectly.  It was 7:41 p.m. And he was stuck on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere because he thought he could knock 15 minutes off his total drive time. He was late to begin with – punctuality pained his need to be in control. And now? What would he do?

“Ron why didn’t you buy that cell phone when you had the chance?” he asked himself out loud. “You don’t have to answer the thing, just keep it for times like this!”

Ron Carnell’s time tonight was scheduled for maximum usage. He had agreed to the book signing as a favor to a friend at the college in return for teaching extra classes on Dreamweaver next semester. He always found that when he taught something, he invariably learned more about it himself. And the latest version of Dreamweaver had some obvious bugs that he wanted to work through. But not on any of his computers. He’d let the college computers take the brunt of the abuse.

But now he sat in his car wondering what to do. He hadn’t seen a house for miles and frankly, the thought of walking 15 miles made him tired. He looked at his watch again.  Seven forty six. He looked around the car. He’d left the computer at home as he was running a program that he didn’t want to disconnect. The radio wouldn’t work because the car wouldn’t start. It was too dark to read a book (he knew he had one on the floor somewhere) and he didn’t have a newspaper. So he had to sit there. Suddenly he felt like a little boy who was being forced to sit in a corner, as this was his mother’s most effective form of punishment. Make him sit still with nothing to do! He hated those times with a passion! That’s why he was never without a computer, a book or a notebook. He knew he didn’t have a notebook on this trip because he knocked it out of the car yesterday when he got out at the Post Office and the darn thing got so wet he had to toss it!

He sighed heavily and decided to walk a few miles down the road while the moonlight was still bright enough to see the way. He grabbed his coat as there was a chill in the air, locked the car (though 6 brawny men could lift it if they really wanted to steal it!), and started walking forward, in the direction he had been going. He knew there were no houses behind him, so he hoped there was one in the mile ahead.

After walking for twenty minutes and finding no house, no driveway and no sign of life, Ron stopped to listen for any kind of movement, a cow in a field, a dog barking. But there were no sounds. The moon still cast enough light to continue so that’s what he did. He decided he would organize the software for the new forums in his mind and write them down when he got home. He walked this way, semi conscious of the environment around him until he looked up and realized it was darker. Not that the moon was gone, but there was a soft cloak of fog covering the road.

Glancing at his watch which read 8:33, and realizing that going forward was now impossible, as he would most certainly never see a house or a driveway, Ron turned around. The fog was moving towards him and the trek back to his car was darker than it should be.

Tentatively, he took a few steps and found that he was unable to see anything in the darkening mist so he relied on the feel of the dirt road under his shoes. A stone meant he was on track. A slight incline meant he had veered to the left or right onto the decline to a ditch. He stopped every few minutes to listen. When he thought he should be near the Miata, he held out his arms to feel the car.

Again there was nothing. He held his watch close to his face and pressed the little button to view the time. The time was 9:15. He figured he walked the same distance at the same pace and since he’d walked forward for 47 minutes so he should be right in front of the Miata. He slowly swung his arms out, like a windmill, hoping to touch it. But he didn’t…he walked a few yards forward and then made a mental image of an x in his mind and walked back and forth across the road trying to touch the car.

Ron was afraid. If he stood right here, there was a good chance that someone could come driving a car or truck out of the mist and hit him. There was no way to calculate how long the fog would last so he would have to find a place to rest and make the best of it until the fog lifted.

He took small, tentative steps until he found the edge of the dirt road. A small slope meant the beginning of a ditch. “Hope it’s not full of water.” He thought.

There was no water and the ditch was just a slight incline down to a level area. Ron stood and listened. He could hear leaves brushing against each other as though they were dancing.  Slowly he made his way in a straight until his left hand touched the bark of a tree. He grabbed onto it. And hugged it. “Never thought I’d be doing this!” he sighed.

With one hand on the tree, he bent down and felt around for something to sit on. The ground would be damp and he didn’t need to get sick! He found a fallen tree leaning partially against the one his hand was on and he gratefully sat down. He zipped up his coat and leaned against tree. All his life he relished his aloneness. He didn’t mind it at all. But this was different. This alone was lonely.

He closed his eyes and wondered how long the fog would hold him hostage.

‘Snap!’

Ron sat up quickly. He’d heard a noise. Though he’d been dozing, he was sure it was close by. He sat up straight without making too much noise listening intently. He felt rather than saw someone or something near him just on the other side of the tree he leaned against.

Heart pounding, he leaned forward.  Though the fog was still thick, he could see the base of the tree and to the right of the tree he thought he could see two feet. Human feet in wellworn sandals. He sat back slowly, holding his breath. ‘Get a grip!’ he told himself. Slowly he rose and turned to face whomever was standing by the tree.

“Hello?” Ron said hesitantly.

There was no answer. No movement from the sandal man.

“The fog is thick isn’t it?” Ron tried again.

“Are you ok?” another question.

Ron took one more step forward.

The man stood quietly, with his eyes closed. He wore a long robe of deep green loosely woven fabric covered with small cowry shells. His hair and beard hung below his shoulders and were almost pure white.  On his head he wore a wreath of vines and woven throughout were small bits of shells and feathers.

Ron blinked, thinking this was an apparition. But when he opened his eyes, the man still stood there.

“I am real.” The old man opened his eyes. Ron thought he had never seen such deep blue eyes before.

“I’m sure you are.” Ron replied feeling guilty that he had only a moment ago thought the opposite.

“Fog often clouds our vision as hate clouds our heart.”

“That’s true, I just wish it would lift enough so I could find my car.” Ron pressed the button on his watch, but it failed to light up so he couldn’t see what time it was.

“It’s a precious commodity isn’t it?”

Ron looked at the old man with a lift of his brow not understanding the question yet afraid to push the elder further.

“Time. Time is precious it seems.” The old man explained.

There was no doubt in his mind that the old man couldn’t see Ron’s face clearly enough to read the question in his mannerism as Ron struggled to make out the features of the elder.


“Yes, there never seems to be enough of it. I’m stuck here tonight because I was running late and wanted to take a shortcut.”

“The sun and the moon are my time keepers.”

Ron stared at the man. He talked slowing, enunciating each word carefully. And now, he could swear he smelled the sea…that unique smell of a morning walk along the shore in San Diego. He’d often drive to the coast and walk in the morning mist. It was very much like now. And the smell brought that feeling back to him. He sighed, remembering.

“It beckons you?” the old man asked.

“Pardon me?” Ron asked in confusion.

“The sea. It beckons you.”

“How did you know that was what I was thinking about?”

“Someone once said the eyes are the windows to the soul. Your eyes were the waves in the ocean, your lids, the beach…you hold the sea dearly in your heart too. It’s a good thing, to respect the things we are given to protect.”

“I don’t mean to sound strange, “ Ron started. “But who are you? Do you live around here?”

The old man laughed softly. “I live everywhere.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“I am an Ancient One. Born many years ago, before anyone settled this land. The tribes who live here today are my children’s children. We are the watchers the guardians of the hopeless.”

Ron, now ready to debate this apparition put his hands on his hips. “I am not hopeless unless you think it hopeless that I’ll be able to start my car or find a away out of this mess.”

“I’ve offended you.” The Ancient One stated. “I apologize. It was not my intent. I was merely sent here tonight to offer you the peace you seek.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, there is enough peace in my life. And who sent you? Is this some kind of joke? Did my brother send you?”

“Ron, you have many brothers and sisters who have asked that you be protected, that hope and happiness are yours. You are much loved. I expected to find a great and powerful man when I was told of you. You are neither of those.”

Ron smiled. It was a joke, it had to be. His birthday was tomorrow and this was someone’s idea of a birthday joke! Well, he wouldn’t lose his cool. He’d go along with it for little while but his patience was thinning by the minute.

“Who asked you to help me and how did they contact you?”

“All Ancient’s are allowed to hear the prayers of the good before they are sent to the ears of their own God. Recently there have been many, many prayers for you from all over the world. I expected to be in the presence of a man of the cloth or a man of great office. Instead we stand in a humble forest in the fog.”

“You haven’t answered my questions.” Ron said strongly. He was beginning to lose his patience.

“You have touched the hearts of many humans around the world. You have led them into a realm of appreciation for beauty and for passion. You ask for nothing in return. You seek not fame, nor fortune. You are compassionate, kind, giving, respectful and fair. All this and so much more. When the prayers were filtered to us, I wanted to come and meet you…to lead you to our homeland to become an Ancient One – one of the wisest of the wise.”

Ron stood and stared at the man. There was something about him that caused Ron to hold back the derisive words he longed to say. If this was a dream, it was a nice one. Everyone wants to be loved. But if this were a joke, there would be some explaining to do!

“It is no joke, sir,” the Ancient One said softly.

Ron felt his heart jump in his throat.

“I have come to offer you a place with the wisest of the wise. We are the Ancient Ones who wander the earth and dedicate their lives to bringing compassion and harmony to the world. Would you join us? Become one of us? You are a man alone as you so many times have proclaimed.”

“I am not alone and if I am, it’s because I choose to be this way. My work keeps me from having a life.”

“Exactly.” Whispered the Ancient One. “You use aloneness quite well. A cloak of protection. A fog that keeps others from finding their way to you. I shall not badger you. But would leave this small token with you as a remembrance of our meeting.”

The Ancient One put his hand in the inner pocket to the long robed and pulled out a small bag tied with a piece of rope. He handed it to Ron.

“This is your dream bag, Ron Carnell. Take it and fill it with all the dreams of your heart. Take your time and choose each item carefully. For once the dream  is in the bag, it cannot be removed. Put as many or as few dreams in your bag as you want. But your dreams must be selfish. Do not dream dreams for another. You will have one year to collect your dreams. At the end of the year, take your bag to the great Eastern Ocean and open it. Let the dreams spill out into the welcome arms of Mother Water. It is then you will find your dreams.”

Ron looked down at the bag, it seemed as though the fog lifted and he could see better. He looked back to the Ancient One to ask yet another question, but the old man had gone! He was not standing in front of Ron.

Again Ron looked at the bag and there was a symbol on the side. It was of a hand, and eagle and an eagle feather. He thought about tossing the bag away but wasn’t sure if the dream he was in would allow it. He turned to the road and watched as the fog slowly rose into the sky to reveal the Miata sitting quietly waiting for him.

He took the bag and walked to the car. He got in and tried to start it. It started with one hard roar.

Ron looked at his watch, it was 1:30 a.m.! He had been asleep for a long time! Having missed the book signing, he skillfully turned the Miata in the middle of the road and headed home. He was silent, trying to decide if he should tell his family of the encounter of the ancient One. No, it was best not to.

He put the Miata in the garage when he got home and walked slowly to the house. There was no sign of fog here, but the January air was crisp with the promise of snow. Ron unlocked his front door and as he entered the house, he stumbled over a package left at the door by the UPS man.

He bent down and took it into the kitchen. He put coffee on to perk and sat down at the table. On the side of the bag was a drawing of a man’s hand. On the wrist stood an Eagle and in the palm of the man’s hand lay an eagle feather. He knew form folklore that the Eagle represented courage and wisdom. The Eagle feather was a symbol of prayer and a mark of honor. The man’s hand was a symbol of a man’s work, his legacy and the creative spirit of man.

The bag felt so real. But logic told him that this was a dream. That he would wake up soon and find himself in bed.

The aroma of coffee drew Ron from his chair. He got a cup and filled it with hot black coffee. Sitting down at the table again, he picked up the package. The return address was smudged enough so he couldn’t read the name..but the postmark near the name said “Delray, Florida”.

He opened the package.

There wrapped in brown paper was a doll. A hand carved Indian holy man wearing a long green woolen gown covered with tiny cowry shells. On his feet were well-worn sandals. His long white hair and beard flowed past his shoulders. He wore a wreath of vines on his head.

It was the Ancient One.

Ron lifted the bag given to him by the elder man just a short time ago. He would start tomorrow to search for his dreams.
Happy Birthday Ron!
May all your dreams fit into your bag
And may they all come true.
Sharon
(PdV)




© Copyright 2004 Poet deVine - All Rights Reserved
Munda
Member Elite
since 1999-10-08
Posts 3544
The Hague, The Netherlands
1 posted 2004-01-25 04:42 AM


Sharon, not only is this a great story... please write more tales of The Ancient One!
Mysteria
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Member Laureate
since 2001-03-07
Posts 18328
British Columbia, Canada
2 posted 2004-01-25 01:17 PM


Yeah what she said, put some more stories together and if you are taking orders, how about one about a shopping time gone crazy?  LOL, seriously though - I can see the work and thought you put into this story, and the graphic is amazing too!

         
~ Blessed Be ~

Poet deVine
Administrator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-05-26
Posts 22612
Hurricane Alley
3 posted 2004-01-28 10:38 PM


Thanks ladies. I was hesitant about this one. It seems a bit short to me. I wanted to have their meeting longer..I'm sure Ron would love to talk to an Ancient One for more than just a few minutes. But the clock was ticking to get it to Nan. Maybe I'll come back and rework it. Now if I can just imagine some of the things Ron would ask. (Unless he'd like to list them here for me!)
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