Point of View - 1. Story

Point Of View

By Jfalkon

Chris sat next to Tracey on the front porch. It was the evening after Jerry’s funeral and the dark shadows were slowly creeping in stealing the summer heat. As Chris stared out into the fading backyard he asked, “I wonder what he saw.”

“You mean when he died?” asked Tracey.

“No, when he was alive.”

Tracey had no answer for him. Jerry had been an artist. Chris had been more an admirer than a friend but now he regretted not taking the time to know Jerry better. His eyes felt moist as the realization sunk in that he would never know how the world looked through Jerry’s eyes. The only windows into that surreal space were the artist’s paintings and there was no climbing though them to the other side.

Tracey interrupted his musings to ask if he wanted to come inside. He did not and Tracey knew her brother well enough to let him be alone. Chris had never appreciated how much of an influence Jerry had on him. Somehow without even knowing it the painter had inspired him and given him hope in the worst of times. The unfortunate consequence of this was the horror of the past few days. Jerry had died unexpectedly during a common medical procedure. Chris had no way of predicting the tragedy or preparing himself for it. He had picked up the phone and had been told that his idol was dead. He wished he could deny it but that would be madness. As a result of the tragedy he had not slept in days for fear of dreaming.

He now followed the long shadows into the house. Light form the kitchen, where his parents were sitting, stretched in long streaks toward the front door. He could hear them talking but they sounded far away. He walked past them like a shadow and into his bedroom.

He did not turn on the lights walking to his bed in the dark and he collapsed still in his dark cloths. His tired mind exaggerated the sense of sinking into the soft bed. It felt like he was sinking feet rather than inches being lowered into unconsciousness as the darkness crept over him and into him. His last wish before he slipped away was to be able to see the world from Jerry’s point of view and to understand what went on inside that brilliant mind.

Then reality slipped away. Chris saw himself looking out of the floor of his room as if out of a grave. He tried to climb out of the hole but could not. Then he was on the surface but not on the bed. He was floating weightless on the dark brown and silky sheets. The cloth flowed around him like a warm liquid, which he soon recognized as molten chocolate. He was in a large bowl that was slowly tipping as if some giant baker was pouring the contents out. Soon Chris was falling in with the hot fluid pouring over him. As he got to his feet he could see that the liquid had changed somehow. It was not chocolate any more. It was redder and smelled differently. He looked up toward the source expecting to see a bowl but instead saw a slit wrist.

Then he realized the wrist was his. He tried putting pressure on it but the blood kept flowing. He gasped for air as he was submerged in his own blood. He tried to swim and his efforts were rewarded, as the blood got thinner and turned to water. He lifted his head out of the ocean and found himself in a tropical lagoon. It was sunset and the sky was a fiery red. He watched as the light faded feeling relaxed but as darkness covered him again he became aware of a rumbling in the distance. He turned around and saw a volcano with hot angry lava flowing down its sides. Chris wanted to swim away but he could not swim fast enough. He saw people racing by him in canoes. He begged them to stop for him and take him away but no one listened. He promised them everything he had and then things that were not his to give but they just kept passing him.

Just as the lava was going to burry him alive Chris found himself in the cemetery again. He tried to remember whose funeral it was. Was it Jerry’s or his own, he thought. He tried to read the headstone but could not focus on it. The light was too intense. It seamed like the sun was brighter than it had ever been.

Then he woke up. Bright shafts of morning light were coming in through the windows as he got off his bed still in his funeral cloths. Outside the sun was shining and birds were singing but to Chris everything was a little darker than it had been a few weeks ago. He felt lonely as he wondered if his wild dream had been anything like what Jerry had seen in his minds eye as he sat down to paint. It really did not matter. Regardless of how he felt Chris knew that he had to get up and take off his black suit. His allotted time for mourning was over and he would have to paint a smile on his face and confront the day ahead.

© 2010 Jfalkon

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