Character Study No. 3 - The Guest

Character Studies are short stories, part of a larger novel series I’m writing.  Each one is a postcard-sized piece of world-building.  A person caught in a quiet, strange, or aching moment.

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The Guest

I think I was a little taken aback when the wind blew against the tent so intensely that night.  It wasn’t windy all day, but came suddenly when the three of us were playing cards on top of our blankets.  Our lanterns brightened the pale yellow walls, creating the intimate dimensions of our space. I remember thinking it felt like we weren’t out in the woods at all, but as the wind picked up, I lost control of that illusion. 

Hérman and Ruben were intensely into this game. I didn’t fully understand the rules so I just guessed each time I laid a card down. 

“Your turn Marty,” Hérman said brightly through his thick accent.

I had completely forgotten what I was doing.  “Uh…sorry, I don’t know why, I don’t understand these rules here.”  I said, laying down a black queen. 

“It’s okay, we can end the game for the night if that’s how you’re feeling,” Hérman assured me with a twangy smile. 

“No, it’s fine.” I replied, “but maybe let’s keep the conversation going so I don’t get lost in my head.”  

I remembered Ruben was chatting earlier about a trek he’d made a few years ago, up through the Arpaline Pass.  He had stumbled into the village there and ended up getting snowed in until a guide could take him back out several months later. 

“Ruben,” I started. “Did you know the storm was coming before you made it to the village…up by Arpaline?” I laid another card down on my turn. 

He lit up at the thought of continuing, “I thought maybe there was a chance a storm would roll in, in the next day or two, but I could taste that summit.” 

He licked his lips subtly, maybe at the memory, I couldn’t tell.  He continued, “I wasn’t intending to go up the mountain, but the sky was that pale frosty blue and that white peak stood there in all her might.  It would have been an extra two or three days to climb…I had only made it up the base a short distance when the clouds rolled in and the snow began.”

“I’m not familiar with that area, what summit?” I replied. 

“It is the mountain of Pjordreau,” Hérman answered for Ruben quickly.  “And I think the snowstorm was the mountain telling you to leave it alone.”

“You see them as warnings to me, but I’m always welcomed up in a parade of spirits,” Ruben chuckled. 

“Bah…that storm sent you right back down to that village,” Hérman shot back in a mix of jest and opposition to his friend.

“So, you just stayed in that village for two months? What did you do? Did you try to climb Pjordreau again?” I asked him.

Ruben laid another card down and snapped his finger as he won the round.  He was a large man with a large blond beard, too big for this tent, but Hérman and I were much smaller so it was sufficient for our trek.

“I pretty much did what we are doing now in the evenings, card games and steam huts. Humbling couple of months for me.  I was their guest to watch after and care for.” Ruben said, answering my question. “And no mate, it would have been an insult to my hosts to climb that mountain.” 

“An insult?” I replied.

Hérman was ready to jump in again, “Yes, an insult that I applaud you for recognizing Ruben…you do not climb the white peaks.  Whatever trail you braze, whatever imbalance you push the world into…” He gestured chaotically with his hands. Ruben chuckled again, his large voice echoing in our space.  

I couldn’t remember how long these two had said they’d known each other, but it was quite long, perhaps longer than I’d been alive.  Hérman laid a card down. Winning the round, he pulled the pile into the rest of the deck in his hands.

We sat in silence for a bit as we started the next round.  The wind was shaking the tent, it almost felt like it would rip the walls off around us.  Paper thin yellow sheets holding up the illusion.

Hérman cleared his throat, “Marty…” he paused as he sorted through the cards in his hand. “What do you mean by getting lost in your head?”

I pretended to focus on sorting my cards as well, placing some of them out of the order they were already in.  I remember not being able to think of anything to say. I’m sure it felt like an eternity waiting. 

“Uh, I don’t know…” I said, still looking at my cards.  “I just can’t seem to understand all of these rules of this game I guess.” 

“You’re playing well my friend,” Hérman said.

Ruben looked up at Hérman and chuckled again. He was too tall for the tent so he laid over on his side, his elbow on his pillow.  He rubbed his wool-socked feet together slowly, one over the other.  The tent was at such a comfortable temperature.

I was a bit startled by the next gust of wind.  The tent brushed up against Ruben’s curly hair.

“I’m not sleeping well I guess.” I said tiredly. “I wake up at night with this anxiety.  Every night.  It’s a little brutal, I guess.” 

The two of them kept playing.  Was I being weird saying all this?

“I…I find this whole place odd.” I stammered. “The days are so hard here, I don’t think I was really ready to do all of this walking every day.” I remember pulling at my socks. “My feet…uh, my feet are always throbbing. I think if you felt them now you’d feel them pulsing.” 

“You are doing well my friend,” Hérman repeated.

“I know, it’s just a lot further to go I think.” I said. 

Hérman looked up at me with his kind dark eyes. 

I think the game was over at this point. 

“I was out trekking once with a good friend of mine over in the Largueir Valley. I remember the day was a mix of that pleasant cool September breeze, and an equally pleasant warm one.  I could see the sea out towards the end of the valley, a little ways ahead of us. All I could think about was the feeling of jumping into that water at the end of this. 

“We were maybe ten days into our journey of bringing supplies back to the village, when my partner lost his footing on one of the more technical portions of the trail.   His scream is the clearest thing I remember.”

Hérman motioned his hands and placed his fingers around the edge of his face.  His eyes startled me as they grew animated and wild. 

He continued, “He rolled, and rolled, and sank further and further down the slope. His pack flung him about, with no center of gravity. I endured every second of it. And then, as he…he stopped wedged against a tree stump. 

“I listened again to his screams, they were endless.”

Ruben rolled onto his back and sank comfortably.  He looked at me and gave me a subtle smile before looking back over to his friend.

The wind was shaking the tent violently. I remember thinking we must be in the midst of a storm but there wasn’t the faintest sound of rain. The yellow walls shook and felt like they were collapsing in smaller and smaller, the lantern light getting dimmer and dimmer. 

“Did you leave him?” I asked horrified.

“Of course I didn’t,” Hérman rushed to say. “I immediately went down. It took me the better part of the afternoon, and the entire time I listened to this agony out of him.  I bandaged and tended to what I could and we spent the night down at the bottom.  I prayed and prayed about what to do. 

“I seemed to have fallen asleep at some point that night, I woke up that next morning and he was barely alive.  I rushed with all of my strength to get him back up to the path at the top. I carried his weight, ugh…it was such incredible weight. 

“I remember hoisting him and myself up only a few inches at a time and I would stop after each lift to listen for his breath in my ear.  I was scared I was causing more damage to him. 

“We eventually got to the top and I sat there and thought, how am I going to carry him to the village? He told me to leave him there.  We sat in silence as the valley started getting darker.  

“Then, I started hearing a faint jangling, something that sounded like tiny bells approaching.  They were so soft, but grew louder and louder as they approached.

“Oh…” Hérman gasped emotionally, “oh, I had never seen these creatures before in my life. I had heard the stories. These beautiful faint deer-like beings.  They came as the night was settling, I remember the soft yellow glow shining through their long hair, gently lighting up the path around them.  I blinked thinking my eyes were seeing this incorrectly. 

“Many, many walked around us as they continued on the path, the sounds of bells continued but I couldn’t see anything that would make that noise.  Then one of them stopped and bowed its head down to us.  With all the rest of my strength I threw Hals up on top of the Eyben.”

I was in awe of Hérman’s story, my eyes locked on his.

“We walked slowly toward the village with the herd. Another Eyben let me hold one of its antlers so I could steady my walk. I remember feeling this relief.

“It was the depth of the night when we made it to the sea at the edge of the village.  All I could hear was the roaring waves and the faint bells.  The creature stopped along the sand and crouched down so I could lay Hals onto the ground.  I still felt his breath in my ear. 

“I sat there on my knees holding his head on my lap, trying to muster up some of my last strength to get help. The sound of waves was relentless against the shore.  

“I looked at Hals and simply said to him, I don’t know what to do.  Then I heard the smallest sound back from him, I’m sorry...”

Hérman took a deep breath and looked slowly around the small tent, lost in his head. 

He shrugged his shoulders. “I just never once thought after all of that I’d be holding something lifeless.”

I was motionless listening to Hérman’s story.  I remember feeling the wind buckle around all sides of our tent. I could hear nothing except the snapping fabric.  

Hérman’s eyes were so kind. He continued after some silence, “the sun started turning the beach into the most honeyed dawn I’d ever seen. I felt the sky as endless.

“My village found us there later.  I was a guest now.”

I could have sat in the silence for hours I think. But I gave Hérman a faint smile, which he reciprocated kindly.  I laid my head down next to Ruben’s big arm.  I didn’t know he was still awake, but he twisted his arm in an awkward fashion to pat the top of my head a couple of times. 

I stared up at the shaking ceiling of the tent, the lanterns still brightening the yellow walls, and then my eyes slowly shut.  

The Apocalypse of the Mind

Firstly impermanent,

solidifying to forever.

The Apocalypse of the Mind

Water in a creek

passing through sunlight,

but plunging into a

cavern with no exit.

I’m not saying I was

born like this.

Waking to fever,

dreading the absence

of what’s present.

I intend to be a walker

illuminated by the path

of torches through the

opening in the forest,

Through a trail that

rides along the cliff

of the unsalted sea.

I’m not saying I was

born like this.

A lake pressed against

the mountain,

stuck in place and

always filling.

The crack of a rock

splitting, echoing

as it falls to the bottom.

I was lost inside and

couldn’t find me,

I couldn’t whisper

in the dark.

It surely was longing

and I fear I went

too deep.

I’m not saying I was

born like this.

Firstly impermanent is

the apocalypse of the mind.