The Sacred Things of the Night

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: May 13, 2017

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Submitted: May 13, 2017

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A moonlit night seems best to describe things of such nature but in reality it was an extremely dark night. The kind of night where you can’t tell who from whom, one hand from another, devil from god. Many people lose their faiths for good on such a night. I often wondered about the phenomenon and it was not long after that I came across a night of this sort myself. I was alone in the little house in the woods I had bought two years ago. Why I chose that particular night to be the first time to visit the place is a fact peculiar in itself.

I was an estate broker for a living. Other than that, just an enthusiast in whatever at the time seemed appropriate to be enthusiastic about. I frequently bought small, run down properties that wouldn’t sell, touched them up a bit then sold them to some soon-to-be-married couple as part of a deal. That night I was feverish, drunk, and lost in the depths of my misery for having broken up with my girlfriend of three years. Trying to get away from every failed relationship the cabin seemed like a reasonable place to land upon, although it wasn’t reason that took me there but alcohol.
I went to sleep as soon as I was parallel to the ground. Woke up at around midnight to find no fixed ground underneath me. I had woken up deep in the sands of some desert but unlike any standard broken ‘deserter’ I didn’t go looking for a drink because the little water pond was right in front of me. It looked like the drink needed me as much as I craved for it. With the drink the landscape too changed transforming itself into a thick rain forest. The night turned darker, sleeker. I sat down on a broken tree stump and hung my head not trying to make sense but just trying. And suddenly the wind urged me on to keep looking for the secret. I did not understand it for the language was unfamiliar yet I went looking anyway. I climbed up a mountain deep in the folds of snow, slipped and slid down to the ever flowing river ending up in the ocean. It was there that I let the search go, sunk to the bottom, and turned to sand in under a few decades.
IMG_20170324_215315.jpgWhen I woke up again the birds had swooped in with the morning through the shattered windows of the cabin. I stood up, feet still deep in the sand, head full of the buzz of the rain forest, the chill of snow in my nose, and ocean water filling up the rest of me. The most pronounced however was the call for the search of the secret beating along the rhythm of my heart. It was funny because I thought I had found it. Picking up the coconut shell I had dropped my car keys into the preceding night I noticed something else in there. It was a small seed and I was hungry so I ate it in time to realize that it was the seed to the secret. And so as the secret grew in me I grew into the secret until we could not be discerned one from the other.
 


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