MARIA
My work here is done. I have had my timehere and in another world I shall go on but right now it is more important that those who need to survive do. The world is an over crowded place and Simon Arthur of ten years old must take precedent, he must survive. In three minutes he will be hit by Jameson Pierson’s car as he speaks on the phone distracted from the road. Killing a child will break up his marriage and stop a child from being born; it will not should a 39 year old woman step out in front of him. I walk
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out of the coffee shop, Cohinda Coffee, I worked here in one life and smile. I stand by the curb. There is time. I close my eyes and breath; I breathe every breath I’ve ever taken. A car passes, another car passes. I hold.
A man drives engaged on a calldown the road. I step out.
Jameson Pierson tries to brake.
As if I step into darkness but with full sight Iknow where I am going, all is seen behind my eyes. I go to dance within a blanket of stars. A dramatic ballet of music, the cacophony of brakes, gasps, and crunches, mesmerizing and beautiful. I feel my legs be lifted, I spin up to the heavens in a whirl of wonder. Sparks fly amongst the stars.
ANNA
Rain smatters down, veins of water streaking the car windows. I’m hypnotized by the light flooding through the water, hypnotized by the reflections in the wing mirror, rain reflecting rain, reflecting in the tears in my eyes, Maria is dead.
∆
I pull into a small dirt track that follows down to the sea. Bawkers Cliff. Evan and I would come here during the first
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years of our relationship, a place just outside Peacehaven. The body of water in front of me crashes against its cliff replacing the noise of the engine. The world singing alullaby of a thousand voices, a thousand screams, I open my heart, emptying out my lungs; I scream with them.
∆
I sat on this very spot over looking the sea as young love, Evan and me on the edge.
‘Beautiful isn’t it.’
‘Are you looking at me again?’ Evan replies taking my hand. ‘You’re the most beautiful thing here.’
Turns out the cheesiest thing you can hear is still the loveliest when it’s heartfelt and meant, even if it’s only meant in that very moment it’s still enough to make that moment come alive and give you away to the world.
‘Imagine how many shipwrecks are under there’ nodding to the sea ‘how many stories are beneath the surface?’ I say.
‘I used to imagine if there was a plug I’d pull it out. I’d pull it out for you and show you all its secrets.’ He says.
‘So’ I respond. ‘If you had to have a mundane superpower, not something useful like invisibility or flying, just something odd like being able to boil an egg perfectly, what would it be? Mine would be to see through the sea, to see the lay of the land underneath, and see all the things that lay there, all the things she hides, all her secrets exposed.’
Evan ponders ‘ That’s not mundane, you could save lives,
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find treasure. You’d be the best pirate in all theinvisible sea.
∆
Bawkers fucking cliff! I’m here alone. My manhusband is a brilliant and beautiful cold narcissist. I’ve replaced my friends with his friends and I shiver at how I’ve isolated myself. It dawns on me that somehow Maria was the closest person to me, how did this come to be and then I realize how close am I to myself. ‘You’re an actor, now act’ echoes in my head. How long have I been acting here? Maria how could you throw yourself under a car? Breathe Anna, Breathe. Focus on the sea Anna; listen to it’s in and out, in and out. I battle my mind in this vehicle. In the head mirror ‘The Triangle Walk’ sits illuminated on the back seat. I stare at it like an enemy, and then turn from its reflection to look at the real thing. It’s seems to be a cat purring on the back seat wanting to be petted. I’ll be having you. I’m not acting any more; I know jujitsu, I’m fuckin’ having this book. I scramble into the back seat ready for a showdown.
A brown leather cover. You dick! ‘The Triangle Walk’ What the fuck is a Triangle Walk?! Cock! I turn to the front page.
The time of the wolf has come to its end.
The book reads.
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‘Fuck you.’ I think. Somewhere I’ve heard these words before. I’m angry. I will ruin this book.I continue my journey through the words and the worlds they conjure, wanting to destroy the spaces in-‐between them.
The underlying frame work and substance that holds up the physical universe is the rational universe - you can say that the physical universe is created through the mind as its course, it is arranged that way according only to what is first perceived.
Rational, there is nothing below the physical world. Then I think about the feeling of loss I had before finding out my father died. How he said goodbye to me. Who is to say what is underneath? I do perceive things but what is there if you don’t trust in your surroundings; there are just things I don’t know? Just because Evan is working late and comes home disheveled and drunk sometimes, doesn’t mean he is, dare I say having an affair?! But then just because I say I am happy it does not mean I am. It doesn’t mean I’m lying either, because I am telling myself I am happy because I want to be. Why do I tell myself I am when I see the contrary to be true? I am not happy because I’m still an actress, playing a role not for fun but because I’ve relinquished control of my own life. I could ask myself myself, what do I really know? Butmay be the most important question is, what do I not know?!
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We say we are physical because it is first what we see; it is only after we comprehend the nature of awareness relative to our physical interpretation that we break down the boundaries of what we see and start to explore what we cannot.
I have spent a great deal of time trying to understand the things I am told, but do I trust my own thoughts and eyes enough to believe it as evidence or no? My heart beats but I do not ask it, my body heals yet it needs no reminder. Such things I trust. The body of the world. This body of mine. Trust. Trust that Maria did what was best by her!
It is to achieve a state with one’s silent self that hears nothing but everything, that feels nothing but senses everything.
Seven years ago I sat on this rock as Evan told me he would never forget how special I was nor become complacent, now I have given up my job and moved around after him. Now he can ask me to walk away when he likes but when he rages and I do without being told he asks me why. His contradictions add up only to one thing, inconsistency. The World is consistent, I’ve been in a relationship with you for my entire life, the moon, the sun everyday with your routines, a mother and a father, dancing around me, always there. I used to
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speak with you, to the stars, and trust in you knowing so little. Now I know more and I’m adult grown, I’ve become human. I still look at you and where I still hold my wonder I see you as separate rather than of me. I am the textbook rather than the idea itself. Inside. I. Am. Made. Of. Space.
I am made of the space to move into.
One who learns first to be still will know then the consequence of movement. The silent self will stir into action not to reach the goal but clear for it.
I’m drawn away from the book, realizing that time seems to have stopped. I could have been reading for hours,maybe minutes I’m unsure, it doesn’t matter.The rain has stopped outside, the wind blows, tiny sounds come in, a chorus of crickets, tiny drops of water sliding down grass playing like harps.
Everything is still through the window and in the darkness a pair of wolves’ eyes stare back. As I move forward the wolf moves back closer into the dark disappearing from sight, the sea appears to view but there is no sea, just the exposed cliffs, sand and empty seabed, the
lay of the land; the sea bearing her secrets and broken timber ships.
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I step out of the vehicle my fear has gone, the world is alive with noise, no, I am alive with noise. We are alive, I breathe. My white dress flows with the wind, as part of the wind.
‘I always wanted to be born’ I howl.
NOAH
‘Hello?’ I call out.
Silence comes back to me. ‘Is anyone there?’
I hear a crunch of gravel, a few scrapes of dirt, it takes a long time to glimpse a flicker of white material flap out of the dark. Scraping her feet against the ground an uninhibited woman in a white dress clutching leather bound book comes my way. It’s Anna, this is the first time we meet, disheveled doesn’t even cut it but she is beautiful.
‘ARE YOU OKAY? My name’s Noah.’ I say. ‘Tell me.’ Anna says, as slowly as she is precise.
She steps fully onto the path now, her eyes glinting ‘Can one person change the course of human
history?’
‘Yes’ I say, ‘everyone does, everyday.’
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∆
– Noah -Diary entry – Today. -
Seasons will come and go; tides will take up the shore, the Earths plates shall shift and a feeling today will wane no matter how strong it's current when put to the contexts of tomorrows. Autumn. A word. A season. But amongst it is it's smells, it's colours, it's seasonal traditions and with each its own perception of building block memories. Word is nothing on experience. You are a signal. An electrical impulse of learnt behaviors. They say a radio signal will never die, it will repeat itself about space forever, all those telephone calls, all the late night radio shows repeating endlessly in space. Static. Radio signals, I believe, are not only what echoes, your words and very presence of energy lingers long after the body you cling to so dearly too departs.
I always wanted to be born, and once I had I never imagined I may find a cause to die for. Everyone must find a cause to die for, this is the birth place of purpose. Baby, if you get this… meet me on the boat where I killed you.
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The Next Episode will be: How Our Mothers Made Us.
Anna and Noah find a magickal practice transcribed in ‘The Tri∆ngle Walks’ pages unleashing an old ancient horror that takes them behind the mortal coil to the hallways of always and the binding of humanities five senses. Afterwards - returning home won’t be so easy.
Thank you so much for reading and supporting this book. This is a work in progress, so please feel free to review, even tell your friends; any and all support is most appreciated. Please feel free to contact if you have any feedback or questions. Thanks again.
You can contact me at: [email protected].
Dedicated to these Inspirations:
Air France – Maunday Thursday
Fever Ray – Triangle Walks
Flight Facilities – Apollo
Mozart – Greensleeves
Unknown artist – Sad Violin and Piano
Be you soon.
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