Waves

What was there to do now? I struggled to my feet, I was sure that I would have my first ever black eye soon. I used my shirt to wipe the blood from my nose. It didn’t matter what my shirt looked like. Nothing much mattered anymore. I hobbled around the hedge and was back onto the sidewalk. No one was around. I was alone, beaten and robbed. I didn’t have a plan this time. This wasn’t like earlier in the day when I lost the three ball at Black’s Beach. At least then I had a clue. I also knew that the thief had walked off, and one more thing, there weren’t many paths for him to choose from. This was way different. They had left in a car and were long gone. There was no way I could find them.

Even if I could find them, I thought to myself, what could I do against these men? There were many of them and one of me. They were skilled ruthless killers, I was a nerdy Jr. College student, with no weapons and no money. Let’s face it, I lost. But for some reason, perhaps having no other choices, I kept walking north. I wasn’t in a terrible hurry this time, just walking and thinking.

I had tried as I hard as I could, I thought to myself, my feeble attempt at self-comfort. I tried and worked and fought all day. I guess though, it just wasn’t good enough. I thought about this person who was supposed to have been given this gift of life, I knew they wouldn’t be given it now. I thought about Finnegan and how he entrusted me with this task and how I let him down. And I thought about myself. Part of this task was for me, for my sense of accomplishment, I was going to say ‘I did this’, but now I couldn’t. I also thought about the evil men and the ploncedite. Whatever dastardly deed that they wanted the ploncedite for was probably already done and there was nothing I could do about it. If they wanted to paralyze a Senator to get legislation approved for their unscrupulous intents, it would be done. If they wanted to coerce a banking official by rendering him blind, to manipulate funds for their own riches, they had the tool. Perhaps it was worse than that, maybe there was murder in their plans to consolidate their power structure. Whatever it was, they won. There was no going back

I continued to drag myself down the street. I was in such pain. My whole body ached but I think my nose hurt the worst. I wonder if it was broken. Actually, if I was to be perfectly honest with myself, my spirit hurt more than anything. I was lost, on many levels. And there was an additional malady that was beyond simple description. Finnegan asked me once what it felt like to not have the ploncedite. I told him that it felt like my arm was missing. Well now that the power flowing between the ploncedite and me had significantly grown since then, this uncomfortable sensation was even more amplified. It wasn’t pain really, it was like I had ten cups of coffee on an empty stomach. I felt buzzed and shaky and almost sick. The best way to describe it was that it felt like my core was missing, and that is what was worrying me. Broken noses and black eyes can heal. But now that I know that I will never reconnect with this ploncedite, which was created especially for me, will I feel this bizarre sensation forever? Would I always feel that my core was missing? I had no answers.

I walked through a couple of intersections and kept plodding along, then I saw something peculiar and oddly familiar in my peripheral vision. I stopped and looked right, I was standing directly in front of my house. There it was, there was no mistaking it. It was a plain wooden house, white with blue trim. Off to the left were my mom’s roses and at the end of the driveway, nailed to the house was the basketball hoop that my dad put up for me years ago. I always felt a little guilty about that hoop. I never really used it much, I guess I’m just not a basketball guy. To the right was my sister’s bedroom window with her trademark pink blinds.

What was going on? Was I home? Had I been deemed a failure by this mystical faction that brought me here and they were now done with me? But wait, I wasn’t home. That was definately my house, that much was sure, but I could still smell the salt water and feel the sea breeze. The palm trees were still providing me with shade. Yes, this was the same La Jolla street, yet there was my house. Part of me felt drawn to this house, a compelling feeling to go inside, after all, it was home. But another part of me, just as real, felt repelled by this ghostly apparition, this replica. I sensed an inaudible voice telling me to not go in, but there was my house. I just stared at it for a few minutes with an overwhelming sense that two worlds were colliding.

Then I started walking toward the house, first down the walk then right to the front door. I’m not sure why I was so scared. This was home, wasn’t it? I stood on the front porch listening for familiar sounds. Was the TV on to Sports Center or perhaps a cooking show? Was my mom in the kitchen? Was my dad in the garage? Maybe if I listened intently I could hear the incessant texting tones from my sister’s phone. Surely the dog should be barking by now. But I heard nothing, yet I decided to enter.

I turned the doorknob, it wasn’t locked, and slowly opened the door. I went in and found everything exactly like I would have expected. I think I finally figured out why I was so scared of this. If everything looked different, I could surmise that it was someone else’s house, albeit eerily similar. But here it was, perfect in every detail, yet I was in California.

I closed the door behind me, there were no signs of people, or a dog for that matter. The house smelled like home, sort of a blend of a working man’s sweat, beef stew and high school perfume. Every step I took creepedme out more than the last. I went into the kitchen, no one was there. The oven, the cupboards, the decorations, everything was as it should be, but it shouldn’t be.

I peeked into Megan’s room and again, found it to be my sister’s room, right down to the peeling poster on the wall. Then I turned and was face to face with the closed door to my room. This was the scariest moment of all. What would I find? I thought back to the beach when everyone there was me. Is that what I would find? Would I go in and see myself at my desk doing homework? Was I still me or had I morphed into someone else?

Just then I heard a noise in the living room, not much of a noise but a movement. I turned toward it and spoke.

“Someone there?”

No one answered. I walked into the living room, scared as could be. I had this weird feeling that I was being watched.

“Hello?” I asked, trepidatiously.

Still nothing. I guess I was just hearing things. I went back to my room door, it seemed to be beckoning me. I grabbed the handle then opened it. There was no extra me inside, no unfinished homework, no dirty clothes spread around. It looked normal for me. Then I heard a soft noise again.

“Who’s there?” I asked again.

Still no answer. I walked back into the living room, into my parent’s room, even into the garage. The longer I was there, the more I felt like I should be there, but not completely. There was still something nagging me, deep inside. Then I went back to my room. Everything looked so authentic, even down to the broken X-Box controller on my dresser. I reached out and picked it up.

It felt normal for a second or two, then the texture and weight changed. It softened, almost like it was melting without being hot. It had the same shape and color but had transformed into an almost thick gelatin substance. I threw it back onto the dresser as fast as I could. What had just happened? I watched as this controller became less and less solid. It melted and became distorted, slowly but steadily. I couldn’t take my eyes off of it as it eventually became water and ran across the dresser, spilling some onto the floor.

Some of the water puddled around other objects on the dresser. Once the flowing water touched them, they also started to change into this weird melted plastic sort of thing. Each object slowly turned into water, first like really thick blobs then thinner and runnier like syrup, slowly oozing across the dresser. Then the syrup continued to liquefy eventually becoming pure water, flowing down like a waterfall onto the floor.

Then the dresser started to make this same transformation. This was bad, I just knew it. I had to get out of there. I turned to move but I couldn’t. I didn’t have total control of my muscles anymore. Through determination and effort I forced my body to turn toward the door. When I reached out with my left hand to move the door out of the way, I saw that my hand was started to morph into this weird gel substance too. Oh no! I was turning into water! Maybe if I could get out of this fake house I could save myself before it was too late. It took every ounce of strength and force to move, so as I felt my body slowly liquefying, I powered my way into the living room.

I was losing control by the moment, even to the point that it was difficult to look around. But difficult as it was, I looked as much as I could. The living room and all the items in it were in various stages of dissolving. One of the family pictures on the wall had morphed into a substance that looked halfway between jello and motor oil. It had dripped and stretched to the point that we all looked distorted and scary like one of those artsy paintings that my mom likes. There were a few puddles of water on the ground and some gooey blobs that were no longer discernible.

I pushed myself further, toward the front door, although in my current state, that door may as well have been in the next county. I strained and pushed, trying my hardest to at least move an inch. But for every inch that I moved, the next inch became that much more difficult as I was shrinking and dissolving.

The front lamp was nearly gone and water was everywhere. Water was pouring out of what used to be our sofa. The walls were starting to show bubbles, like condensation on the outside of a cold glass of soda. My eyesight was getting weak but I was able to see the last remains of my left arm splash onto the floor. I no longer could move, not even an inch. Then my vision went completely dark and I could no longer hear the dripping sounds of my world melting around me.

I didn’t know what I was anymore, although I still had a consciousness. I could still think but my senses were gone. I was aware, somehow, that very soon I would be completely liquid. I was almost to that state. What would happen to me? Was there still a me? Then it finally came to an end, I was water, spread out on the floor of what I thought was my house. I seemed to have some control though, more so than when I was in a half dissolved state. It seemed that I could move my water state, sloshing myself in a chosen direction, but where?

The inaudible voice started calling to me again. I did my best to navigate my new liquid essence toward this beckoning call. I sloshed, spread and contracted to create what apparently was movement. An unknown friend was trying to rescue me, that was my awareness anyway. But I also felt that if I didn’t escape quickly enough, if my watery essence became too deluded, there would be nothing left of me. I followed the call as well as I could. Soon I should be flowing under the front door, if I hadn’t already.

I still had a consciousness so there was hope for me. I continued my swampy movements then I felt something. That was a great sign, feeling. It felt like a prickly sensation, perhaps it was grass. Things were changing for me, I was thickening. What was the word I learned in school, coagulating. Then I saw flickers of light which improved by the moment. I felt my hands again as I lay on the ground. I felt stronger, I could hear birds chirping and cars driving by. Eventually I could see perfectly. I was whole again, on my knees, on the front lawn.

I never thought I would be this thrilled to see my front lawn but I wanted to kiss it. I stood up, admiring my arms and hands. It felt so wonderful to be me again that I almost forgot about my pains. Unfortunately my aches and agony were still with me. And also still with me was the shaky, sick feeling because of the missing ploncedite. So my happiness over being whole again, being saved from the dissolving house only lasted a minute or so. I was confronted again by my reality, which wasn’t good.

The last, lingering command from the now faded inaudible voice was simple, don’t look back. I stood up and really wanted to turn around, to see if my house was still there. Maybe it was a torrent of water, perhaps it looked like nothing was wrong, or maybe it was something else entirely. My curiosity was overwhelming me but I listened this time, I didn’t look back, I got out of there.

I walked down the street, still feeling lost and defeated, perhaps even more than before the house experience. In addition to the pains and failure, now I had the concerns that these apparitions may become my norm. I felt shaky and sick to my stomach but worse than that, I felt that I was walking in and out of reality. What was I going to do?

I kept walking and walking, then up ahead I saw someone sitting on a bus stop. I got closer then realized it was Gwen. I didn’t care. She was a nice old lady but at this point, I didn’t care. When I got close enough, she spoke to me.

“Are you okay?”

I suppose it was nice that she was concerned about me. I’m sure she was as shocked as everyone else when I was pulled off the bus so violently. But I had no politeness left. If she only knew that these villains were only a small part of my problems right now. If she only knew the depths that I had sunk to from my exuberant optimism only a few hours ago.

“No I’m not. I’m not okay at all,” I said as I kept walking slowly.

“I have something for you that might cheer you up,” she said, trying to be nice.

I just didn’t have the energy for her silly gift. What was it going to be anyway, a doily that she made, that would make everything alright? Or maybe it was a cross-stitch of a kitty cat that I could hang on my wall back in Kansas, a monument to failure.

“No, I don’t want anything right now, I just want to be left alone.”

“Please take it,” as she opened her knitting bag and held it out in my direction.

So I reluctantly looked inside. There it was, the red three ball, comfortably nestled in a bed of yarn.