Stone Of Matter

by B L Barkey

  Mother would sometimes paint while listening to Father play, delivering beautiful works of art all her own. Still, it was only one interpretation of the story that Father told with his music. Beautiful, somehow more tangible, but still different. All grew silent, and then it began.

  Father gently brushed his bow over the strings. He held onto both bow and instrument with delicate fingers, just enough to guide them. Intricate, almost tangible waves of sound swept over them, layer upon layer. He was not only preparing his fingers for the performance, but also the instruments. The audience. The atmosphere.

  It started out as individual notes and rests, until gradually, Ammon began to accept it as a whole comprised of many different parts. From this progression, the music then fused into one whole, floating as a dancer in the air. Then, the dancer was no longer a being of randominity. Her movements told the story, depicting her own lovely village.

  A village of energy and love. A village of peace and growth. Warm summers and fresh fruit trees. Young, joyful children splashing in shadowed groves and waterholes, sharing their first kisses. Newly wedded couples wrapping themselves inside one another, in hammocks and bedrooms.

  Suddenly, the tone grew somber. Great tragedy struck the village. Change came, undeserved, unwanted. Life was lost. Color faded. It was sad, and yet, endearing. The soul embraced it, while the mind looked away.

  Hope gleamed through in the form of a few particular notes. Melody mixed in with the body of the story before them. This hope grew and grew, overtaking the scene in Ammon’s mind. His eyes were closed now, had been closed for quite some time, it seemed. The new hope grew into a wonder, which grew into a possibility, which grew into a cause, which grew into an adventure. This adventure weaved and twirled, creating new tones of happiness and sorrow all its own. Up and down, side to side.

  A great battle took place. Separate paths were taken, but a note of hope and love still remained, a promise of more to come, though at another time. The last note hung in the air, bringing them gently back to the present, with no concept of how long they had been lifted away.

  “Wow, Erick. That was the most beautiful I think I’ve ever heard you play,” Mother said, her eyes still closed. Her demeanor revealed the condition of her heart. Father had captured it once more.

  Ammon loved the experience of hearing Father play. But even more so, he loved seeing the look in his mother’s eyes when she watched Father perform. It was all Ammon wanted, right before him. Someone to look at him like that. Someone to love like Father loved Mother. Someday, he knew. But it was growing increasingly more difficult to be patient for his own journey of love. He pushed the sadness that usually came with this thought from his mind.

  Bastion stood up and headed for the door, giving Father a pat on the shoulder and Mother a hug. He seemed to be carried by the music still residing in his body, being carried forward and out the door. The four of them lied there in the fiery glow, gently speaking whilst keeping their eyes closed. Ammon peaked over at Mikael, who appeared asleep.

  “How was the week for you boys?” Mother asked.

  “It was good. We won our Equilibria game.”

  “Should we act surprised?” asked Father.

  “How wonderful you two! Erick, you know they were going up against the Vipers this week,” said Mother, encouraging the boys and reprimanding Father all at once.

  “Yes yes. Well. I suppose despite that fact, I knew my boys would not be deterred from winning yet another match. Anything spectacular happen?”

  “We were down by two points in the end, and claimed the victory in the seventh round with double tiles,” said Mikael, readjusting and settling back into the couch.

  “Ha! Now that sounds exciting. I’ll have to watch the footage when they make it available on the gliscs. Good work you two. Good work indeed,” Father said. “Speaking of the Vipers, do you know if Chalice will be going to the Trials?”

  Ammon’s peace of mind broke. He then realized a haze of happiness had cradled his mind like a warm blanket during the song, only to be drenched by a flood of repressed thoughts. Chalice. Maison. Disease. Temptation.

  Ammon felt words forming on his lips. He was going to tell his parents about the recent happenings with Maison. And then he stopped himself. This is not a time for dark things.

  Father stood from his chair and replaced his instrument on the wall. He then walked over to his sons, kissing them both on the forehead. He walked over to his wife and embraced her with his lips, finally pulling away and looking into her eyes for a long while. Ammon had to look away.

  Another question came to him then, and he felt embarrassed, as if everyone in the world knew the answer but him.

  “So I asked the Arcanums earlier this week, what the secret to love is.”

  For a second, he felt like he had chosen the worst words possible to convey his thoughts. To his surprise, both his parents smiled at him, then looked to one another. It was then that their forms shifted, right before his eyes. Instead of his own parents, he saw two young people, both looking to another as if for the first time.

  “You want to take the lead here?” Mother asked Father, squeezing his arm.

  “I suppose that will make the most sense,” he said, winking at her.

  “Ok, so. First you are probably wondering why we wouldn’t have told you this great secret sooner, should it actually exist. Indeed, there is a secret, buried within another, though it is much simpler than it may now seem.

  “To begin to understand, you must build a foundation made of experiences, surrounded by wonder of your own. As the questions begin to form in your mind, the secret will seem like treasure. Before wonder, it would have tasted like a stone. Having waited, it will now be sweet as honey.”

  “Alright, alright. Tell us already,” said Mikael, showing he was listening, though his eyes remained closed.

  Father laughed into his next words. “Patience, my boy. Patience is a crucial part of this secret. And like it, the real secret is also one word that is really three words. Can you guess the word? And don’t take it too seriously.”

  “Really?” Ammon asked, frustrated. He took in a deep breath, trying to summon his own patience, which was more like a candle flame in a watery gale.

  “Okay, okay. I suppose you have waited long enough. The secret is ‘together’. That is it. That is all. Now, tell me. What are the three words from this one?”

  Ammon formed the shape of the word in his mind. He could see each letter, separate and floating in place. He started moving the letters around, trying to form different patterns that may click in his memory. THE ROG TE? GORE THET? His mind was obviously reaching.

  “Are you sure it’s three words?” Mikael asked. “Are the words in the Golden Tongue?”

  “The answer to both of your questions is ‘yes’,” Father said.

  Ammon sighed, then thought some more.

  And then Mikael laughed.

  “It was right there from the start,” he said.

  “Together. TOGETHER. TO-GET-HER.”

  “And there it is!” Father shouted, clapping his hands.

  Ammon laughed too, then asked, “Is that really all?”

  Father held up a finger. “Now, I know it seems simple. Most great things are. So really think about it.”

  He paused for a few moments. Both his boys shrugged, and he grinned.

  “To get her, you have to do things together! That’s what it’s all about in the end, isn’t it? Sharing your lives together. Making difficult decisions together. Making our own little brats together. Cooking together, Bathing together.”

  “Gross,” Ammon and Mikael mumbled together.

  Father smirked and continued. “It all started with sharing our time and thoughts, together.”

  Ammon thought about this. Something as impossibly colossal as love seemed like it should be more complicated. But really, what if it were that simple? So simple, it was almost complicated? Just do things together, and you will get her forever
. Ammon laughed again, this time with understanding.

  “I like it,” he finally said, sealing the memory away. “I’ll try it myself someday.” An image of Sadie appeared in his mind.

  “Hopefully sooner than later,” Mother chimed in.

  “Now, now. They are still very young. No need to rush,” Father said.

  “I know, I know. I’m just sayin,” Mother said, looking bashful.

  Father clapped his hands on his knees and stood. “Well, I’m headed off to bed. Early morning tomorrow,” he said, still looking at Mother with a sly grin.

  “Goodnight Father,” they both called out. After some light talk, they followed Father’s lead, heading up to their bedrooms. The boys managed to clean themselves up and change into their nightclothes, before collapsing on their beds beneath the stars. In addition to the windows spanning the entire wall of the room, there were also windows in the ceiling which magnified certain segments of the sky, casting the dancing light of stars all around.

  “I’m so tired…” Mikael moaned.

  “Yeah,” agreed Ammon.

  They both laid there for several minutes before Ammon rolled over and looked down at his brother.

  “Hey Mikael, you awake?” he whispered.

  “Mmm. Nope.”

  “Goodnight, Everworld,” Ammon said.

  It was a quote from their favorite glisc film. It was tradition between Ammon, Mikael, and Bastion, and meant to them that they were true brothers, who would look forward to tomorrow, forever and ever.

  “Angarang,” Mikael mumbled back, rolling over.

  Just then, Ammon received the peace he had not known was missing. No matter how tough things get, with rising darkness and danger, family is always there.

  He tucked under his thin sheets and thick quilt made by Mother. It wasn’t long after Ammon’s head hit the pillow that he faded off into his dreams, where Father’s melody continued, and his parents danced in a field of flowers before him. He loved them so. How great was their love.

  And then he slipped into an unconscious slumber, finally feeling the strain from the last few days.

  III

  Ammon stood in a puddle of melted snow. It swirled around him like the Emerald Whirlpool. It pulled many things out from deep inside him. His worries. His fears. His memories. His spheres. Much of it he did not understand, yet he felt it nonetheless. Even though it was in a dream, and he knew it to be so, he felt it.

  The puddle became a lake. He willed himself to ascend, to be propelled into the sky by the manipulation of matter too fine for the eye to see. It collected and swept him up, obeying his command and understanding. It was still an imperfect knowledge, so his flight was sporadic. He dipped down to the watery expanse once more, touching his toes on the wet surface. He felt it. He ascended once more, quicker this time. Though in a dream, the danger of falling was still present. He floated up and then down, landing on top of a natural stone pillar.

  He looked down below, seeing the faces of family and friends playing in the water. Some faces he had seen all his life on Cephas, yet had never known them. Many of these faces looked up in surprise, while their children pointed and laughed aloud. They cried for Ammon to jump, just before the parents would bend down to hush them.

  Ammon smiled, then looked down through the waters and skimmed the bottom of the lake that was once a puddle. He saw Tobias, who was standing on the bottom of the lake, looking up at him. His pup was calm, and even licked his own lips in idle desire to fly up to his master, his tail flicking lightly about. Yet for some reason, Ammon felt a push to rescue him, and so leapt from the rocks.

  He fell, air whipping past his ears. Faster and faster. He then willed the fine particles in the air to slow his descent, and they obeyed. He entered the waters smoothly, then turned towards Tobias. He swam down and pulled the leash that kept his pup tied to the bottom, though Tobias was fine and breathing.

  Ammon climbed up to a dry patch with his pup in his arms, then sat him down, nearly crying with relief. Many conversations danced in the air, all of different people and events. Ammon was just another person on the beach, even in his own dreams.

  The words of Maison came back to him. ‘Curious, is it not? How we all imagine ourselves to be the hero of our own story…’

  Ammon couldn’t breathe. He was suffocating in his own dreams. In his own world. Where he was quickly losing control…

  The snow leopard leapt down from an unseen escarpment above. She landed with a soft thud, which reverberated the finer particles of matter that then swept away his doubt in a wave. Ammon felt immediate gratitude fill in the space that the doubt had conquered. The blue eyes of the animal held him in place. Not against his will, but in response to his will.

  She truly is not of this dream world, Ammon thought. Though these may be my dreams, she is a visitor. And so too is the force that is causing me doubt. The same force that is bringing disease to Cephas. He thought these things as easy as walking, yet they still shocked him. Ammon heard a voice. “Who are you?”

  It was his own voice, speaking to Maison. Then, it left the lips of the snow leopard. “Who are you? And why do you insist on seeking darkness?”

  It was not a question to be answered. It was a question to ask one’s self. Ammon knew the answer. He repeated it within. Who am I?

  He thought of his family. Of Cephas Island. Of his friends. Of Sadie.

  He thought of the Sector Guard, of becoming a protector. “I am a protector,” he told himself and the snow leopard. But telling the beast seemed as pointless as telling a tree that it’s a tree. It knows what it is. It knows what many others things are, as well as their purposes of being.

  “And so it shall be,” spoke the snow leopard. “But heed my words. They are coming.”

  Tobias was now by Ammon’s side. The dream shimmered and shook peaceably. Though the words of the snow leopard were the ones he wanted to hear, the feeling that came with them held a deeper meaning. Something unseen. Something made of finer particles of being.

  IV

  Ammon awoke in a cold sweat. He looked around, confused at why it was still dark outside. He gazed towards his clock with foggy eyes. He had only been asleep for two hours. He lay there in bed waiting for sleep to come take him once more.

  Yet it would not come. He decided to lie closer to the stars, for maybe they would sing him to sleep. This seemed entirely possible in his dream state. He wondered if maybe he were not awake at all.

  He peered down at Mikael. “Hey, you awake?”

  No answer came. He then saw a pool of drool by his brother’s face, taking this as his answer.

  Ammon swung his feet over the edge and leapt down, landing directly on an old wooden toy from their childhood. He cursed and grabbed his foot, wanting to smash and knock over every piece of furniture in the room. He barely refrained, and instead released whispered strings of insults to humanity, all kept inside his head. Afterwards, he apologized to any unseen spirits of light who may be watching his actions, laughed at his surreal mindset, then crawled up the wooden ladder out to their sky roof. He opened the angled window. Cool wind swept through his loose clothing.

  Again he wondered if in a dream, though his aching foot reminded him of his consciousness. He climbed back down to put on some thick clothes, then crawled out to stand on the wooden panels. Father had built a loft out here some years ago, then filled it with cushions, topping it off with yet another retractable roof. This was Ammon’s favorite place to read, as it was filled with all of his favorite stories over the years. Most he had read several times. Reading them over again was like time travel, dosing himself with nostalgia and hypnotism. He loved the feeling.

  The night air of High Forest was the coldest place on the island, with the exception of the waters of Mirror Lake. Even so, it brought comfort. With his layers of clothing on, carrying the threads and hours it took to make them from a mother’s love, the cold lay upon him almost like a blanket of a different sort. It soothed him. It made the
world seem simpler, even smaller. It seemed the secrets to everything were right there before him, within his grasp. He was content to let them be.

  He chose a book at random, flipped to a page near its end, and began to read. He knew the story. The details before and after came to him. He saw the story all at once, then mentally zoomed into the scene he was now reading. He finished one chapter, then returned it to the shelf. He fell to the soft floor, lethargic but sleepless.

  He crossed his hands behind his head, looking up at the stars. They were truly countless. It would take several lifetimes to count them all, and even then, those counted would only be a tiny fraction of all the stars outside their planetary system. What was beyond them? And what was beyond that? The answer seemed to be ‘infinite’. But what does that really mean… Ammon wondered to himself.