Gliding the Ripples
Dear reader,
the man seemed deep in thought. Like something troubled him. The lake was quiet this time of year. It missed people, their cheer, their laughter, it missed the boats and their sails. The clouds formed a grey mass, and the winter breeze chilled his face. Yet, he wandered about. Alone, hands in his jacket pockets. Strolled around the lighthouse and stood on the shore path. He inspected his surroundings. He spotted a woman in a warm coat and gloves walking her dog. He saw a grouse dive and strike the surface. Splash tore through the silence. The grouse glided towards him. It was there where he saw it for the first time.
He thought he saw someone. A reflection of a young man. Dark-haired, wearing a scarf in the cold, he looked familiar. He moved to see better; maybe the youngster was standing behind a tree. However, there was no one. The man paused. His eyebrows tightened and his lips pursed. He scratched his chin and moved further. But he caught sight of the figure. He wore the same scarf as the man did years ago. Even the shoes he remembered. Then he leaned backward and gazed at the same spot to see if the young man appeared. There was nothing. Only the reflection, in the water, shimmered. The man’s eyes cleared. He started walking, glancing at the flickering form and strode with purpose, but so did the other.
He ran by the lighthouse and left the cobbled walkway. He jumped over the roots of an old tree right onto a tight, forested trail. There were bushes with thorns and swift branches that hurt his cheeks in the January cold. Though he kept his sight fixed on the rippling image. Why is it moving, he thought. Why isn’t it steady? He tried to catch up to the blur, but it always escaped. The invisible someone was running away from him. He took one step forward, and the shade did two. He forced his way through the branches, and so did the phantom. The man hesitated. He peeked through the trees and stared at the water. The young man remained there wearing a grin. He taunts me, said the man out loud. The jester pranced and waved his hands. The man shook his head. He won’t get rid of me, thought the man. He trekked toward the echo to be sure it still evaded him. He observed the forest, and as the trees grew tighter, he left the path. He crept in silence. When he moved far enough, he turned. The wind carried splashes and a low hum of drifting ripples to his ears, though he did not see the lake anymore. It’s real, the man exclaimed. There is no light here playing tricks on me. Determined, he listened to the howling and burst into a sprint.
The cracks of the branches echoed through the woods. The wind slammed against his chest. He picked up speed, and just when he was about to lose ground under his feet, he leaped into the void. The man flew above an overgrown shrub and saw the scenery unfold in front of him. A powerful glasslike mass as far as the eyes could see, the grey muted sky above, the dark outline of the trees far in the distance framing the shoreline. The man stared down and thought for a second that he caught a glimpse of the prankster in the black wavelets. His feet hit the surface and disturbed the depths as he landed.
He waited. Spun on his heel to inspect if the invisible someone showed up. But he was alone. No one came. The deep near him settled. And the contours of a reflection started to materialize. Thousands of radiant dots connected. The man watched in disbelief as the figure took shape. Older, hair thinner, gaze tired, wearing his jacket, standing up to his ankles in the shallows. The man stood motionless, observing the face as if it were the first time he looked in the mirror. He viewed the wrinkles next to his mouth and stroked the bags under his eyes. He lingered, and after long, exhausting seconds, the man smiled.
He left the lake, drops of liquid dripping from his pants. His shoes squished under his steps. The man turned around and glanced at the expanse once more. All was at peace. There were sounds of plops and gurgles. The wind crackled in the forest. The man spun and propelled himself upwards, back onto the trail. He strolled forward, back into the world. And I followed him.
Regards,
Jakub