Story-A-Day #319: Focal Point

FOCAL POINT

Life has a funny way of dragging us off course.  It is always to see the destination, that far off point where we hope to one day end up, but every now and then, life throws us a curve.

Sometimes that curve is actually a straight line.  It is an archetype, however, we all want to eventually wander off into the sunset. It is the ultimate goal for us all, that blazing finale that envelopes us in a magical world of pastel beauty.

What makes us different from the beasts is that we actually have a dewstination to pursue.  As much as we are content to fling excrement at oneanother, we also realize the merit in pursuing a grander finish; we also appreciate that what we do and how we act, reflects upon whom we are.

Everyone has a destination in mind as far as where they want to end up.  The thing is, we all take different paths, nad assign different priorities to the route.  For some, the path left untaken becomes the big regret, but for others, it is the path itself that would have ceated issues.

We all need a focal point; a place to direct our future intentions towards. That's not to say we have a plan for the next year, or five years, or even ten years - it's just to say that we need a destination, no matter how ambiguous.

Two years ago, I had great ambitions.

Today, they are all shot to hell.

I was destined to be a great leader, a man of the people.  Today, I am destined towards nothing.  I can actually see the great void looming ahead, and yet, it would appear there is nothing I can do to arrest my forward propulsion.

I am on a dock, heading towards a supernova, and eventually the woodwork will run out.  Eventually I will tumble out into open space and be engulfed by the incinerating force of my own decisions.  I almost want  to embrace the beauty of the moment, but the searing finality makes it terrifying.

This could very well be the end.  Of me, and my world.  Of everything I have ever known.  This could very well be the end of life as we know it, a mass extinction level event.

Such a short dock, and yet, so many potential ends...

Story-A-Day #157: Focal Point

FOCAL POINT

It had started out as an aimless journey, an idle afternoon wandering through the streets. He hadn’t set out like this in quite some time, with no intent and no set destination to speak of. Still, it felt nice to let his whims take over and go where he might feel like going.

As he wandered, a strange realization occurred to him. There was nothing aimless or random about his route. He was being directed by an unseen force, and while he couldn’t quite place a finger on what it was that was guiding him, he soon figured it out. He was following a series of almost imperceptible lines.

If he looked for them, they vanished, but as long as he kept his mind idle, they were there. Sometimes it was the line of the curb next to the road, but every now and then it would skip over to the corner of a building, up to the line of the rook above, along a crossing power line.

He was compelled to follow this translucent path, to see what his eventual destination might be. He followed it along the street, up an alley, through the parking garage, and down a neighbouring street. He continued, tracing the barely perceptible line along the sidewalk, up the hill and through the parking lot.

As undefined as the line was, it remained rigid, always straight and always moving ever onward. It was a strange realization that there were hidden pathways through the city. It wasn’t one distinct route either. As his mind wandered, he noticed off shoots, paths untaken that would lead him to different places.

He followed the main route, walking aimlessly, hour after hour, towards his unknown destination. When he approached the round-about, he figured his journey might have come to a spiraling conclusion. But there it was, edging along the power lines that gleamed in the approaching twilight.

He followed the line up the steep hill, cars buzzing past him as the accelerated towards their destinations. The line cut up a side road, and he followed it, along the narrow paved lane, until finally the line disappeared into a spray of gravel.

It was not the conclusion he had expected. Why would the invisible lines, those hidden focal points, lead him to a spray of gravel at the end of a forlorn laneway?

He turned, and the city reveled itself below, awash in the glow of a resplendent sky painted in vivid strokes or purple, pink and orange. The best thing about a good mystery was when the solution finally presented itself. Such was definitely the case here. He took in the scene as the colours slowly faded.

As he turned to leave, he noticed something in the grass by the side of the road. He bent and picked up a weathered old wallet. It was familiar, and a dawning realization washed over his as he slowly folded it open. There was his old high school student card, and library card, some old five dollars bills barely held together. He had lost it years ago.

He opened the small snap button pocket and pulled out the silver money clip that his father had given him for his fourteenth birthday. It was in perfect condition.

It turned out that some mysteries were bigger than others. As he set off back down the hill, he wondered what tomorrow’s path would bring.