The Lake

The loud creaks of the tower can be heard sounding off each other, bouncing from wall to wall creating a cacophony of sounds like a deranged band of drums. The smacking of an opened shutter window keeps an even beat of disruption, and yet all these sounds seem to go unnoticed by the man lying on the stone floor inside the tower’s bottom. The constant dripping of leaking water does not alter the steady breathing of the sleeping man, for he sleeps a deep sleep which he cannot awake from.

He is an old man, close to eighty-five years in age, and his beard has grown white as the winter snow. It hangs down to his feet creating a robe like affect around his old tired body. His withered face shows clearly the marks of time and suffering, and resting on this same surface seems to be an almost content like smile. Listening closer to the sleeping man, there is even an audible humming sound coming from his sleeping mouth, as if he rests not in a dark and dreary tower, but rather relaxing under a tree in the middle of a beautiful field of flowers and chirping birds.

The lightening above crashes and the thunder roars, and yet the man still slumbers on. He sleeps the deep sleep of the almost dead. He sleeps… and he dreams.

He sits below a sturdy oak. Its branches reach out with a firm sturdy sureness that only old trees may have. He glances down the hill below, towards the passive surface of the lake at whose edge rests the boundary of reality and fantasy. His mind shifts and he begin to see beyond the shades of everyday life and he suddenly feel blessed by a gift of insight into the unknown, yet still known…

He looks and he sees…
A small pixie fairy dances across the water’s surface. Her light wings carry her with barely a stir to the water’s surface below. She merely tiptoes across, more graceful then the most talented dancer and action more innocent then a baby’s first cry. She crosses. Suddenly, with the shocking horror of a midnight storm whose lightning flashes and thunder quakes the earth, the fairy vanishes below the surface. Faster than a trout catching its evening meal of flies, the Fairy is gone from sight and it is as if the earth holds its breath waiting for what will happen next…

A loud splash, as if the great water falls of ancient times had awakened the thirst quenched ground, and life had suddenly returned to the world as a whole. From the surface arises a Great Golden Dragon. Her wings spanning half the distance of the lake, it is a wonder such a large creature could ever have fit in that insignificant amount of space. Like the setting of the sun, that moment of awe and pleasure when there is no thought about whether one will ever see the Sun again, but rather that this moment holds the very essence of life and was beyond a doubt the most precious moment of the day, The Dragon arose… soaring into the air the Golden Dragon lifted itself with a mighty cry, not like the screams of a tyrant or wicked being, but rather with the musical note of a thousand trumpets sounding off the approach of victory and glory. And then… the dragon bursts into a brilliant display of light, flashing bulbs of energy, and fire… death was its reward… or was it?

Trickling down to earth, much like the rain on a particularly dreary day, when the mist and fog creates orbs and halos around all sources of light. The small particles of the dragon drift towards the earth’s surface, and with the grace of a lovers kiss they meet… and merge. The earth seems to weep for the loss of beauty which it has just witnessed.

He too sheds a single tear as well, for none of the sights seen today are lost, nor are the implications which have been received. But wait. Life is present in all forms, and the earth teaches this yet again. She spreads her bosom forth, and from this action the particles of the lost dragon begin to dance. Like the swirls of a magician’s magic trick, the balls of light seem to dance with each other till the halo formed by it and the foggy daze surrounding the display, form a captivating sight. Then the presence is felt… it is an Angel. She comes forth from the light and seems to float with a grace surpassing even the fairy. Tears stream from her face and as they splash onto the ground… flowers of all kinds spring to life from this drops, creating a pathway of beauty and life behind her. The Angel floats towards the observer.

He is stunned, he knows not what to do. The combination of events has served to astonish him to an almost dumbfounded state, until it is shocking that he has even held onto his sanity. He is afraid, and yet mesmerized by the approaching beauty coming his way. He thinks about making his escape, but instead he waits… and he is rewarded… with a kiss. A single kiss, but one so full of love and life that his world shatters like a broken window. All thoughts and conclusions vanish from his mind, as darkness vanishes before the fire…

He awakens. He glances towards the lake’s peaceful surface… and hopes to dream again…


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2 Responses to The Lake

  1. I liked how you related the sound of his sleeping to a nicer place. Unexpected. Broke me into the rest of the narrative.

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