Otto woke up, he stood, slowly absorbing his surroundings. I am alone, he thought letting the strange idea roll around in his brain. It was completely silent. It was as if some one had pressed an almighty mute button.
Never in all of his life had he experienced such calm, such silence. Noise was his life boat, his comfort. Living in Brooklyn noise was the only thing he could always count on being there. Now he had nothing.
He stood in the center of a spiral. The spiral was created by tiny pebbles and sand that would be found in a zen garden. Otto walked out from the center of the gigantic spiral. Whenever he stepped on a ridge that formed the lines of the spiral he felt the pebbles moving down under his foot, but when he looked back he saw no depression or indent in the mounds.
How long he walked he did not know, the land was gray and day and night were no different so as he walked in the endless spiral he lost track of time. He felt no need to eat, drink or sleep. The only feeling he felt was a faint tugging as if someone had attached a string to his chest and was lightly pulling. The feeling never strengthened or weakened and became familiar to him, a comfort as was the endless spiral which never ended and seemingly never would.
As Otto walked in the spiral he started to notice small changes. Now little sprigs of grass and weeds scattered the pebbles of the spiral. Eventually the surface of the ground changed and instead of pebbles the spiral was now formed by cobblestone.
One thing that didn't change however was the tugging feeling in his chest.It was always there, pulling him forward. But one day it suddenly stopped. As it stopped Otto staggered backward suddenly having to support himself. He looked ahead of him. There was a sign. The sign read:
Transitions,
Take the North Path,
187 Shingles North
Behind the sign the spiral stopped and formed a smooth granite pathway. Otto stepped on the path.
This is such a good story Nathan! Keep writing on it.
ReplyDeleteThanks! I will keep writing it.
ReplyDelete