Chapter Four: Stranger Surprise

I take in the beautiful panorama, breathing deeply through my nose. The scent of ocean, salt, sweat, and victory are vivid. My eyes are amazed by the beautiful blues and grays of the day.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” says a deep, thoughtful voice behind me.

I say nothing but just nod. I don’t turn around, because I don’t care who is talking to me. In fact, I don’t want him here at all. I close my eyes and try to focus. I felt like the question had disappeared. I feel strangely because the question had been so vivid up until I crested the cliff. I don’t quite feel satisfied, but the question isn’t asking itself.

I push all of my thoughts out of my mind. I just feel. The air, the beauty, everything, I just feel it.

My mind–no, my soul–feels that this man is at fault. He’s driven away my question. In my soul I feel he’s answered the question, but I can’t determine the answer. I feel my mind racing, racing towards nowhere, and getting there fast. It doesn’t know what to think, but it also doesn’t know what to believe. I feel my internal doubt wrestling with the knowledge that the man is thrusting upon me.

I know now it’s the man; I feel it somehow. I don’t know what to do, and I feel there is no need to do anything. My being is receiving overwhelming knowledge and information, and my brain can detect it, but I have know clue what any of it means. I know, somehow, that the information is important, but I have no key, or password, to unlock the labyrinth of information.

A seagull cries above me, and my ears are pierced with the noise. Suddenly the gray skies are more foreboding–majestic even–than they were before. I hear the waves crashing on the craggy face of the cliff. The air smells like a storm, and I feel a droplet of rain. I glance to my right, away from the man, and spot a tree.

I note the lack of thunder in the air, and decide that the tree is my best source of shelter. I walk straight towards it, my back to the man the entire time. I reach the tree and see that it has remarkably protective leaves. They form a tight seal repelling all water, and, most likely, driving them towards the tree’s extended roots.

I harrumph, interested and amused. I think of the things I’ve seen on my vacation, and I find that they are all ingenious in some way. I think of God, a topic I don’t give a whole lot of time, and wonder if he cares.

Early on in my life, I know, I decided God made everything. My struggle is, and was in believing he cared about me, or other people. There was–is–too much death, too much destruction. I don’t care about the sappy feel-good “true” stories, I want real life. Not some Disney fabricated happy ending, because I know that’s not how it ends.

I sit down, and rest my back on the tree, exhaling.

What are you doing, John? What is this? Did you really think this would work?

My mind wanders to questions of my own sanity as my eyes search for something. The questions swim in my mind, repeating, or varying slightly.

What am I looking for? I ask subconsciously. The man, my subconscious replies.

I frown, and sit up straighter. I think of how he could have slipped past me. I don’t think it’s possible.

No, he couldn’t have…

My thoughts trail off, and I have no idea what is going on. For some reason I am extremely disturbed by his disappearance.

It wouldn’t be a disappearance if he wasn’t even…

Again I trail off.

“You’re looking for me” stated the same, deep, thoughtful voice.