The Old Gazebo…
Originally published December 22, 2006
Winter. Late afternoon.
The beach is empty. The air is grey-blue.
The ocean is grey-silver, scattered with foamy white waves.
At the high-tide mark is a long wooden, railed walkway leading to
an old gazebo perched on top of the highest dune.
Inside the gazebo is a picnic table with benches.
Under the table is a pair of small deck shoes.
Between the shoes is an empty styrofoam coffee cup.
The most interesting thing is on the table. An open book.
The pages on the left are flapping lightly with the breeze.
The pages on the right are clipped together by a pen.
They struggle to move with the wind..
On that first page on the right is a single handwritten line.
In the most delicate and precise penmanship. It says…
“I am going home.”
“Between the shoes is an empty styrofoam coffee cup.”
====================
On the underside of the cup is a small blue circle.
Inside the circle is a flame with a vision, dancing to and fro, beckoning.
You look deeply into the flame and it draws you in.
Not the real you, just your vision.
But not your real vision, the vision in your minds eye.
Including all your memories, going all the way back.
Back to just before your conception, and at that time you didn’t exist, so you disappeared, instantly…..like dust in the wind.
Very nice, gs!
and that’s what she wanted…to disappear.