"Journey Part 03 - Gazebo" by Al Howe

Gazebo

Looking into his eyes, him looking back... for the first time you feel naked, everything open, he can read your eyes. You want to close them, push away. This is too much, you try to move, you can't take much more. Him looking in to you, knowing your thoughts... you must escape... his heart. You can feel his heart beating softly against your breast, rhythmically. You listen to his heart beating, looking into his eyes, the feeling of tears welling up inside. He moves his arms, and you realize through the warmth emanating from his body that your back is cold, open. As if predicting your thoughts, he continues moving his arms, wrapping them around your shoulders, encasing you in his cape. So soft, like fine satin.

Your thoughts returning to his eyes, they look like they are getting closer to you. Closer and closer... until they are so close that his face must be touching yours, his breath warm against your lips. Closer still and you are thrust into weightlessness. Floating, surrounded by sparkling lights, moving forward. Some close enough that you think you could touch them. You rotate around, reveling in your freedom, reaching your hands out, finding nothing. Admiring the flow of lights, you notice one of brilliant white, brighter than the rest. As it approaches, you notice it is not round, it is square... no rectangular. It moves toward you, or perhaps it is you who is approaching it... white edges fading into a dark center. Close enough, and you are pushing into it, through it. It resists you like a sheet of plastic wrap, pushing back, but you aren't stopping. It wraps around you, pulling over your head, and trailing off your back as you land lightly on the ground taking a step. You pull yourself a few steps farther, the wrap resisting, stuck in the portal. You turn to pull it free. It has become a faint white fabric, and you look down to see that you are wearing a sheer white robe, too sheer for your tastes, held on with a white sash. A sheer hoodless cloak attaches at your shoulders and flows down your back, down your legs, across some grass, and into the portal. You pull the cloak free, as the portal slowly closes up, its light fading out.

You turn from the diminishing light of the portal to examine the new world before you. You are standing on a small grass covered island, maybe 10 feet in diameter. The water around you ripples playfully, the tinkling of the of the ocean against the island plays sweetly in your ears. Periodically, small schools of fish leap out of the water to be pulled back in. It is still night, and the giant setting full Moon looms in the distance, barely above the horizon. Its reflection travels along the wavelets all the way from the horizon to you. Off the island, several large tree trunks loom above the water, not quite reaching it. You bend down to make sure, surprised. The trunks come down and end about 6 inches above the water, no roots at all. Looking up, you see many branches covered with diamond shaped leaves, shimmering in the moonlight as if they were made of silver.

Adding to the moonlight, an orange glow comes from the right. You turn to see several wooden planks leading to another island. Floating above the small bridge, on each side, are a row of lanterns bobbing in the wind. You walk over to them. The lanterns look like small hot air balloons. You approach the closest one... it appears to be a fine wire lattice with rice paper over it, surface covered with fine designs. It floats in mid-air, and emits a faint humming along with its yellow-orange glow. You reach out to touch it, but it moves away, the hum increasing. It turns around and you realize the lamp is actually the abdomen of a large insect. It buzzes at you angrily and returns to its job lighting the bridge. The bridge is made if individual planks, floating independently above the water. You place your foot on the first plank... it is a bit wobbly, but the footing is stable. You place your feet carefully, making your way to the next island. Legs still feeling unsure as you make your way up to the top.

"Hey, watch your step!" A voice calls out to you... High pitched, squeaky. It's what a mouse should sound like if it could speak.

"Who's there?" You look back and forth, seeing no one.

"Down here, watch your feet!" You look down to see a small winged woman, arms crossed, standing in front of your foot, surrounded by about two dozen small green creatures. They dart back and forth, biting at the ground. The squabbling noise they are making blends in perfectly with the sound of the ocean. The woman takes flight to come to your eye level. She is only about 6 inches tall, slender, very slender. Her face is exotic, a little long, eyes set wide, but still attractive. Her light hair flutters in the wind from her own wings, and you notice large pointy ears.

"They're looking for worms..."

You shake your head absentmindedly, "what?"

"The chicken-dragons, they're looking for food."

You look down at them again, small greenish creatures. Each has its own telltale pattern of lights and darks on its skin. You begin to laugh as you watch them running back and forth, some on your flowing cloak, fighting over each prize. Their small plump bodies pushing against each other. Each ending in short tails on one end and a skinny neck on the other. The neck leads up to a cute head, way too large to look serious. You laugh some more. Big expressive eyes adorn the side of each head, conveying emotions they can't possibly have. On their backs are two tiny wings, too small for flight, so they run on their little bird-like feet looking for food.

Pulling back from the scene, your attention is drawn towards the full Moon. Visible between trees, a small rock outcropping stands in silhouette against the Moon. A fine line connects the rock to a small raft bobbing up and down in the waves. Eyes moving along the edge of the silhouette, you realize that someone is sitting at its top, facing the Moon. Is it a boy? A man?

"Who is that?" You ask the faerie, who is still fluttering nearby.

"Oh him? I dunno. He's always sitting out there, watching the Moon. I feel bad for him, out there alone."

You think to ask why she doesn't fly out to him, but don't... Your attention drawn back to his silhouette… Watching the Moon. What does he think of? What is he doing? He must feel so lonely...

"Hey," you are brought back to reality, "you're her aren't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're h... oh... nothing." And the faerie returns to watching her flock.

You begin to turn back, and you catch another small bridge to an island. The island is dominated by a round structure that glows with a soft orange light. Heading off towards the bridge you are stopped by one last call from the faerie...

"Hey... Don't forget everything... and nothing."

You make your way across the bridge, this time much easier than the last, the lantern-bugs lighting your way. Stepping onto the island, the entrance to an open-air gazebo sits open before you, inviting. The gazebo appears to be made from finely worked and carved wood, beautifully crafted. The wood itself appears to be giving off the orange glow. A twisting dragon lines the entrance, with carvings of fiery horses, winged serpents, phoenixes, and more dragons on the panels lining the gazebo. Small vines have started to work their way up the woodwork. You walk around the gazebo admiring the craftsmanship. Getting in close, you run your hands along one of the horses. It has a horn on its head like a unicorn, fire instead of a mane, and fire coming off its hooves, which are splayed like a goat's hooves. Its body is covered with scales, and a goat-like beard hangs under its chin. Expressive intelligent eyes top its head. He is carved flying among clouds and wisps of wind. There appears to be more open space than wood, and you stick your fingers through the holes to convince yourself that they are there, and that the wood is all one piece. Satisfied, you continue your way around the gazebo and back to the front. The inviting door is too much to resist, and you enter.

Inside, the glow is reminiscent of a sunset, warm and orange. Choosing the seat opposite the fiery horse, you sit down. The bench is made of wood, but it is surprisingly soft. Very, very soft. You realize how tired you are, and you lean over on the bench, pulling your cloak over your body, and resting your head on your arm. One large yawn, and the gazebo blurs through watering eyes. The soft tinkling of the water nearby, and the light winks out.