And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.
―T.S.Eliot
Who knew a simple hike to the lake could become so traumatic?
I had no idea what triggered my panic attack. It was totally unlike the other experiences I've had where my surroundings inspired a memory or vision.
All I could feel was sheer terror and the overwhelming need to run.
So, here I was, sitting on the bench opposite the marina and aware that Ray Hull was staring intently at me from his workshop doorway.
But I had no intention of acknowledging him or indulging his curiosity.
I was recovered sufficiently to stand on my feet, so I got up and casually sauntered away without glancing back to see if his eyes were following me.
But there was no real need to look back―I could feel his gaze boring into the back of my skull.
I had no idea why Ray Hull was fixated on me and at the moment I didn't care. I just wanted to return home and decide whether I was up to having high tea with Sylvia lightbourne this afternoon.
It was almost noon by the time I finished my shower and changed out of my hiking attire.
The thought crossed my mind to give Elias, my shrink, a call and tell him about my experience, but I decided against it figuring it could wait until I saw him on Wednesday.
It was weird in a way because my terror felt more like a paranormal experience than even my vision of the girl from my dreams. I made a mental note to ask Elias about that as well.
The drive to the Lightbourne's was pleasant and thankfully uneventful―after all, there was only so much drama I felt I could bear in a day.
As I pulled into the circular drive to approach the house, I spotted Sylvia peering out the window, obviously waiting for me.
I don't know why it made me feel uneasy but it did. It almost gave me the impression she wanted to intercept me to avoid my ringing the doorbell.
But then again, maybe the event of this morning was making me feel paranoid.
She was all smiles when she greeted me at the door and brushed my cheek with a polite kiss.
"I just happened to glance outside to check the weather and saw you coming, Marcus. They were predicting a chance of rain but I set out tea on the screened-in lanai."
"Tea outside sounds marvellous. The weather is so mild today I took a hike around the harbour."
"Well, I won't make you work hard or sing for your supper, " she giggled. "I tried to provide a variety of finger sandwiches and sweet treats―the only challenge was choosing the blend of tea. I hope creamed Earl Grey will suffice."
"You must be channeling my thoughts―creamed Earl Grey is my favourite."
Truth was, I was taken aback she knew my preference in tea since I drank only coffee when I was at dinner with her and Clay.
It made me wonder what other secrets Sylvia knew and for that matter, Ray Hull and the rest of the townsfolk in West Harbour.
As I imagined Marcus enjoying his tea, I had the thought, as long as his story does not end in too much grief, one day he will look back and envy his present self for his adventure, for life is like being at sea, for a while you are being thrust up and down and it seems terrible, then the calm arrives and you slowly slowly turn into a vegetable (gosh, that almost sounded like afairy story!). I think you know what I mean.
As I read once in a book, all heroes should die at the end of their adventure, for then they settle into boredom, get fat, drink too much and drive everyone away as they try to re-live their past by telling the younger generation all about it, again and again.
Strange I was thinking something similar. I just had an invitation to return to teaching and was weighing the benefits of getting back into the fray versus my safe covid free life - I guess I was weighing risk versus benefit and the adventure was drawing me. Of course, I foresaw dying in the end, but as a hero helping out...yeah, it requires more thought, lol
It is difficult for me to empathise as I would prefer to feel alive while I am alive. Being at home with no variety to keep me alert, it is not how I want to (semi) live. however, at least you are kept very much alive by the stories and poems you write.
Sorry, Alex, I missed this response. But surely you also write too--unless you've retired and/or are just content to upload your Cherine tales to the blockchain.
Not much writing. My posts of Cherine take longer than before as I have to make photo images of the pages, join them, resize them and only then post them (as my way of writing the story, since the font used dictates certain aspects of the story, I need to use a variety of fonts and even text colours, which cannot be used on the web for posting)
Add to that my recent health problems which are distracting me. At least I am getting close to the end of Book 12 and only have Book 13 to post. I am hoping to finish by the end of this year.
It is odd how, despite the visual reminder of my face in the mirror, I tend to not sense that there is an end to me. Then a few things go wrong and it starts to intrude. It does not frighten me as I feel that when I travel on, I will be on the start of new inventions, but it is sad to contemplate leaving my loved ones.
I am hoping that once I finish posting here, to place all the books on the WayBackNachine site, where they say all books get registered for an isbn number and then stay forever (if posted there in pdf format, they also convert it to the various ebook formats).
See:
https://openlibrary.org/search https://web.archive.org/
By the way, have you seen this site? I think it would interest you:
https://www.history.com/
Hey Alex, That method of posting seems challenging - I can see why that would tax your patience. Fortunately, my wife helps me with technical support when I get stuck - she's also an excellent photographer so I can occasionally ask for a photo but the problem is I post as I write and can't always give her the lead time she needs.
Thanks for the suggestions about the sites - I've profited by your suggestions in so may ways, my friend.