Winston uncurled and peered ahead to see that he was just meters from the top of the hill. “My God,” he said. He picked himself up and scaled the remaining distance. He and the chief now stood at the top, staring down at a stream fifty feet straight below. The river banks were surrounded by white sand with dimples the size of small craters that stretched on and on. “It looks like what I imagine the surface of the moon does.”
“I know. I always like to think that it looks like the surface of the human mind. So many dimples to hold so many secrets,” the chief said reflectively. “Listen son. I don't know how much you know or don't know about this place, but this is what you think it is. This is the river that stops people from growing old. This is where your mother stays. You see, some people stay here for short periods as a reward for performing special deeds. My best friend, for example, just returned to the village five days ago after spending two weeks bathing here. His name was Emansu. His neighbor's son had become quite ill, and caring for him was making it almost impossible for that man to tend to his large goat herd. Well, Emansu took over the herd so that the man could tend to his son instead. I really don't think any of those three slept for weeks they were so busy. But the boy got better and the goats stayed healthy. Emansu gave a lot of time to help that boy get the care he needed. So we rewarded him with two weeks in the river so that he could have that time and more back in return for his deed.
Winston cleared his throat, “Well, what did my mom do to earn this privilege?”
“Your mother is a rare occurrence. She's one of four people that will always bathe in the river. She will never grow older Winston. She saved us more time than I think we will ever be able to give back to her. A long time ago we used to fight with our neighbors, but your mother changed all that. She interpreted a tremendously valuable book for us that our neighbors had brought. She called it a bible. Because of her we don't waste any time building spears or practicing how to fight. She saved us so much time son. And now you can join her. What you did for those women today was something no one else here could do. The only way to repay you for the time you saved those women is to let you bathe in the river.”
Winston was overwhelmed. “You're serious? I'm going to get to bathe in the river?”
“You most certainly are son. Now all you must do is follow through on the opportunity and jump in. It's a far drop, but you'll be fine.” The pleasantness of what he was hearing was more than enough to win his faith. Without a seconds hesitation, he jumped and was falling out of the sky to the water below. His arms flapped to maintain his erect position and by the time he realized that his feet had hit the water his head was already twenty feet below the surface.
The water was warm and tremendously clear. Winston could see millions of creatures swimming through the water, some of them more unique than anything he had ever seen before. A school of carp swam past, their yellow bellies sparkling beneath their net-like scales. A long crocodile with an unusually slender snout attacked the school, but then powered away, showcasing its webbed hind feet for Winston. And then a creature Winston had only read about in biology books stole the forefront. A giant seal, probably thirty feet, brushed by his feet as it too was rising up from the bottom of the river. The thick black skin of the seal cut Winston's toes during the scrape and, as it swam away, it turned its extremely small head to investigate the collision. A piece of kelp dangled from its mouth and its short arms waved as it acknowledged Winston's territory. It was a sea cow.
He surfaced gasping for breath. The pounding of a magnificent waterfall to his left filled his body with energy and he swam ferociously toward it. A few minutes later he was there and the river became shallow. He touched his feet to the soft mud below and walked the last few meters until he was face to face with the beautiful wall of water. He stood watching it, feeling refreshed by the intense beating of water droplets that lashed his face. Until suddenly a hand wrapped around his waist and pulled him through the fall into a dim, dry haven beneath the crest of it. The next thing he saw was a very beautiful pair of eyes probing into his. Winston's pupils dilated to take in all of the beauty, but then quickly shrunk to a miniscule level to focus on the sparkling rectangles glimmering in the young woman's eyes.
“Winston?” the woman shouted in terror. “Oh my God! Winston? No. Oh my God!” She cupped her mouth and began to weep. Her blonde hair fell forward to cover her face and she continued to cry.
“Jenny,” he said softly. “Jenny, you look... Ha, my God Jenny. You look exactly the same as the last time I saw you.” His face became hot and his skin felt as if he were rolling around in a cactus patch. He began to cry as well. “Jenny. What are you doing here?” He threw his arms assertively around here shoulders and squeezed her tightly as he sobbed.” I never thought that I would see you again. Oh my God,” he gasped as he pressed his cheek against hers. “It's so good to see you.”
The sobs and hugs eventually stopped and stories were exchanged. Jenny explained that she had been studying this village as an independent project that she had been hoping to submit for a PHD. She explained that she had heard rumors about it and had decided to go searching for this place just as he had. But when she did find it, she couldn't bear to leave. “I taught them English,” she said. “And they rewarded me with eternity. I haven't aged a day in the last twenty years!”
“Well, I started looking for this place because I was told that my mother might still be alive. Is that... Is that true Jenny? Is my mother here?” Jenny's cheeks dimpled and her whole face began an intense work-out of flexes and dangerous contortions until her cheeks grew an inch wider on each side.
“She was Winston. She was here. But she left.” She paused for a moment and her face reverted back to its contorted state. “She um... She left to find you, Winston. She said that she really had to tell you something. I... I don't know what it was that she wanted to tell you, but I know that she felt it was important because she was willing to give up living forever to do so. She left for PEI two months ago, but I don't know if she would have survived the trip. She was dreadfully sick before she came to the river Winston. I don't know if she bathed long enough to prevent her cancer from returning. I don't truly know exactly how this river works, Winston. I just know that it's incredible. I.. I don't know.” Winston bent his knees to rest his chin on the surface of the water. He didn't speak for several hours and closed his eyes.
Finally, after hours of contemplation, he muttered these words: “I have to know.” And just like that he disappeared from Jenny's eyes as suddenly as he had arrived to them and he resumed chasing Martha. Except that this time, he was chasing her home.
Winston's exodus from the river began at 4am and, when the chief returned to the top of the hill with two small golden urns at 6am, he had no idea at all that Winston had left. The chief stood alone on top of the hill admiring the sunrise as he unscrewed the lids of the two containers and emptied their ashes down fifty feet to the river below. “Ah God,” he thought to himself. “If only I had have known sooner that Abonto was showing those boats where to fish. Damn,” he thought. “I wouldn't have had to give those twins to the fire.” The chief continued to replay these thoughts in his mind until the last bit of ashy remains from Abonto's recently cremated body fell from the urns into the river. “Oh dear. Well, at least Winston and the other four can have the years Abonto has given them. I'd better get back to the clinic and erase Abonto's footprints from the sandbox,” he thought to himself. “Now that his big feet are gone there should be plenty of room for the next three or maybe even four newborns to join us.”
Chapter 23 – Inherited Obligations
“Art is my delusional product of inspiration and creativity caused by ego quenching shades of brilliance discovered during moments of passive social conformity.” - written drunkenly at 2am after biting my tongue
The day that I realized I was a hypocrite, I cried for the first time since I can't remember when. My head fell to the floor and my chest caved in until it cru
shed my sunken heart. My eyes lost their judging squint and opened into a wide absorbing stare. Billions of brain cells stuffed full of memories died and empty infants were born to line the surfaces of my lobes. I was 25 years old. I was absolutely devastated that day because I knew that I had to start over.
When someone derives the utmost pleasure from revenge, does it reflect how they felt about you, or only what you have done to them? The intent is to make you hurt, that's for sure, but is there an underlying message as well? Is revenge best served as a fortune cookie with a little piece of paper hidden inside that whispers, “I miss you,” or is it more like a spicy fajita laced with hot peppers that screams, “Stay away!” Revenge has been dished out and has crippled the morning. What was once a call for joyous appreciation has now become a beg for a sympathetic touch. Revenge hurts, that's for sure, but just like rage it is too cloudy to present the true meaning. Why? Why, why, why, why, why? Is it simply to hurt? Or is there more?
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Winston, now 50 years old, sat at the dinner table of his brother Randy's house, eating cookies with his niece, Emily. The two spent all of their time together now and had both discovered that they had quite a bit in common; neither of them had worry in their heads and they were both eagerly addicted to learning from one another. Their similarities were due to different circumstances, but that in itself may be one of the most universal statements one could utter in today's bustling world. Emily's care-free eagerness was due to the spontaneous freshness of every single moment of every single day. Uncle Winston's was due to having endured so much in 50 years.
He never did get to see his mother again. She had died in Vancouver, British Columbia after making it almost precisely two-thirds of the way home. Samuel had long since passed. The only single stroke of good fortune Winston had inherited from his journey home was that he was there to look after Emily now that she had no father; Randy had been robbed and stabbed to death in cold blood just days before Winston's arrival. He was the only family that Emily had left and he was now her legal guardian. Several weeks had passed since Randy's death and the two were finding it a lot easier to cope by treating each other as a father and as a daughter. The responsibility had seemed to put Winston's mind at ease, but from time to time he did still allow his mind to stray and dwell on what exactly it was that his mother had needed to tell him so badly.
“Briingggg! Briingggg!”
“Hello,” Winston said into the kitchen telephone.
“Is this Winston Stone?” the telephone inquired.
“Yes. Who is this?”
“Winston, this is Constable Greg Walls. We've arrested a suspect in your brother's murder case. We're going to need you to come down to the station so that we can ask you some questions.”
“Ugghhh. Yeah I'd like to help, but does it have to be right away? I, well, I'm enjoying a moment with my niece. I can’t possibly express how difficult this has been for her.”
“I'm terribly sorry Winston, but we need you down here as soon as possible. We need you to help us to establish a motive. Winston, I'm really sorry, but we need to know if this man might have had a grudge against you.”
“What? Grudge? Geeze, I doubt that. I haven't been on this side of the planet for twenty years. Who the hell did you arrest?” The telephone paused for a few seconds.
“Winston, we've arrested a delusional man named Jackie Bergeron for the murder of Randy. We've went through his medical records and they've shown that you were his physician for a short time. We need to ask you about your encounters with him to help us include or eliminate some possible motives. I'm sorry.”
“Okay sir. I'll be right down.” Guilt flowed through Winston's body like his lungs were connected to a well of it by a suction tube. He fought back his tears and sat back at the dinner table with Emily. “Emily sweetie, I'm going to take you to the babysitter's for a little bit, okay?”
“Alright Uncle Winnie. But, but, Uncle Winnie. You're gonna come back right?” she said, fighting back tears of her own. He welled up some more.
“Don't you worry sweetie. I have all the time in the world to spend with you.”
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We all seek the fountain of youth for some duration of our lives; trying to make up for time we've lost, for things that we've forgotten to do. We search for it in many different ways: alcohol, wealth, love, work. Some stick with their search and many give up on it by generally concluding that there are no ways to cheat death, no ways to create time. But, for those who do stick with their search, I offer only my laity advice: maybe the fruits of found wisdom cannot be eaten, but only shared. When this is realized, the waters of the fountain of youth will quench the thirsts of not only those who seek it, but also of all those who dream of it.
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Emily's door slammed shut and Winston watched her walk, hand in hand with the babysitter, up the driveway to the front door. He turned back to stare at his own hands, they were clenched in the ten and two positions on the steering wheel of the stationary car. “I never should have left,” was all that he said.
The Author
My name is Curtis Picketts. I am 27 years old. I have left Prince Edward Island many times over the course of my young life and have seen some amazing things both here and abroad. I have worked as an ice-cream server, a golf course attendant, a bartender, and as an aquaculture technician. I have a degree in biology, a minor in philosophy, and I have dropped out of medical school. My current passions are working as a fishermen and writing, and I am so happy to be pursuing both of these things with my whole heart while never venturing too far from those near and dear to me. Let’s all raise a glass to passion; I look forward to catching the most beautiful fish in the sea and to writing for you all again! Cheers!
Searching for the Fountain of Youth Page 12