This is part 3 of Obsidian. Part 2 is here.
Now it was obvious I was in the throes of an obsession. If I examined past instances, I should have no doubt been alarmed. My last romance was almost the end of me. Had not the circumstance that led to me living abroad had its beginnings in a tryst? I had fallen in with a woman of questionable sanity and integrity. Of course, I did not know that initially. Or perhaps was too dishonest to admit to myself as much. Looking back the signs were all there. She had seemed simultaneously so pathetic and so beguiling. A beautiful bird with a broken wing. A damsel in distress. Waiting for a white knight to ride in and save her. I had painted all the red flags green as I rushed in to rescue her from the carnage of her life. She came with a story. They all do. The abusive husband. The thin childhood. How could one not be moved? The heady cocktail of emotions. The drama. The push and pull. Give and mostly take. The weapon of sex. Once she had her hooks in there was no escape. Whilst I had set out to care for her I had inevitably become her pet. A slave to her beck and call. A hostage to her turbulent emotions. Elated with her attention and despondent when she would withhold it. Constantly going back to the source of the pain to relieve it. And what a bitter creature she was. Behind the mask of her beauty, she seethed with spite and bile. Full of jealousy of her fellow woman and hatred for all of mankind. I had sacrificed myself at the altar of her cunt again and again until I was a broken man. I became despondent and wandered aimless in the street. A husk. I had given all of myself. No matter how much love I had poured into her it was like tipping water into a cracked cistern. She was incapable of holding onto it. I went on like this until I couldn’t. Until there was nothing left to do but escape. To take my last shred of sanity and flee. Of course, that was not the end of it. She pleaded and cried. Threatened harm. Faked pregnancy. All the while, I only found out later, beginning to cast her spell on the next suitor. I was to go back time and time again until I could break free. I sat in my chair feeling the pain as if it were fresh. An anger arose. Was I a moron? What fool would entertain such a prospect? How could I convince myself this time would be different? I would stamp out this obsession. I could not trust my judgment. No more pursuits. The solitary would suffice for me. But it didn't. I could no longer focus on books when I read. Tea and toast had lost their flavour. All I could think about was her. Where was she? What was she doing? Was she alone? Was she with him? Would she call past again? I sulked around the house until I came to lay in bed, occupied with fantasy. I tried to fight it but would slip into elaborate imaginations of us spending time together. Arm in arm as lovers. Children. Marriage. Together till death. I became ill and restless. The house became a prison. I stole looks out the window hoping she’d appear to liberate me. Days passed. I slowly came back to earth and was engulfed in a crippling depression. She was not coming back and there was no place I could go to find her. What was I supposed to do? Sit outside the bistro in the freezing square drinking coffee until she appeared? The misery slowly spread, seeping into every corner of my existence. Whether standing, sitting, walking, or lying down it was on me, smothering me. I lay on the ground and look at the wooden beams and wondered if I could hang off them. When I looked out to the ocean the cliffs seemed to call to me. I hadn’t felt so low in recent memory. Everything seemed dark and hopeless. Living was a dreary effort. I stayed in this state for weeks.
It came time to collect my money from the post office. I sat with the usual trepidation. I felt that I had just started to come up for breath and the mood was starting to shift. Eggs had piled up like reminders on the kitchen bench. I had been too anxious to put them out. I spun them on the counter as I sipped my tea. Outside the weather was grey but looked as if it would hold. I chastised myself for working myself into such a bind but there was also a touch of forgiveness and understanding in my internal dialogue. I had a weakness. I need not beat myself up over something I had no control over. I played out the trip in my head. I would put the eggs out, walk the hill, go through to the outer suburb, and then to the square to collect my money. I would then collect my goods from the supermarket and have a coffee outside the bistro. I would watch over myself, there would be no boilovers of emotion, no flare-ups of blinding anxiety. Besides what did I have to worry about? Thoughts of Sabine had petered out. It was unlikely that I would encounter her, or the boyfriend. I felt an excitement rise. A stream of gibberish left my lips. It had been weeks since it came, and I started to laugh. It felt like an old friend returning. I really was on the mend. I walked to the bedroom and dressed myself. I grabbed my coat and hat from the hall. The coat felt heavy on my shoulders. I opened the door and then went and picked up the eggs from the kitchen. The cool fresh air felt illicit after so long inside. I walked to the end of the path and carefully placed the eggs in the container. Then I returned to the house and slipped on my boots and retrieved my bag. I was ready to go.
I started up the hill and settled into an easy pace. I felt the hill in my calves after so many weeks inside. The weather was warming, and the countryside seemed more alive. There was more vivid colour in the grass and leaves of trees. Birds flittered about. I had to step off the road a few times for the slow-moving vehicles of tourists to pass. Spring was coming, perhaps moored somewhere over the horizon, waiting to unveil itself to us with all its glory. What would I do when the seasons changed? Perhaps leave this place I thought. I put the bag over my shoulder and clasped my hands behind my back as I walked. I had been here many months now and had become like a ghost. Perhaps it was time to return home and rejoin the world of the living. Other people are like mirrors and when one lives the solitary life there is no one to reflect one's behaviour in and gauge sanity. One acquires strange mannerisms and habits as I had. Humans are by nature social beings and to be alone so much certainly was unhealthy. I felt there was little more I could learn or gain from further being alone. I thought like this as I walked. The outer suburb seemed less glum. Clouds soared across the sky and the sun threatened to come out. The suburb seemed closer to the sky than the cottage. Optimistic residents had even started putting their washing outside to dry. It flapped in the wind as I passed. I reached the square and went to the post office. It was empty as usual save for the vinegary old postmaster. We went through the tired ritual of him retrieving the envelope and placing it on the counter. Just when I was about to pick up the letter a strange feeling came over me. I felt a heady excitement stirring in my stomach. I picked up the letter and then locked eyes with the man. His eyes were tired and ordained in a misty grey. He raised his brow expectantly. We both stood there for a second before a long sentence of nonsense streamed out of me. “ARGHHHHGAWALLAMUTTABUTTAOIIIIIIIIII!” I shouted.
The old man looked shocked and stepped backward with his palms extended. I relished in the reaction and started laughing maniacally. I descended into a violent fit of giggles. Tears flowed down my face, and I gasped at the air as I tried to control myself. I walked towards the door pushed it open and stepped out into the empty square. I leaned against the cold stone wall. My sides hurt as I laughed. It took a few minutes to compose myself. Something had come over me. It was as if the scaffolding of the dark mood and miseries of the previous months had fallen away. In its place, an energized expansiveness had arisen. I felt limitless and godlike. My thoughts raced. They were entwined with divine revelations. The mysteries of the universe then dissolved in the clarity of my crystallized internal vision. I no longer wished to be limited by the conventions of ordinary men. I took off my jacket first. Then my shirt. I felt the cool on my skin. I then removed my trousers and briefs. I shoved the garments into the bag with the envelope. I stood there naked as the day I was born. I felt perfect like the immortal deity I was. I then set off towards home.
Now it was unclear to me why my status as a godhead had not occurred to me sooner. It seemed I had become a conduit of the divine. As I walked, I received constant messages and revelations, some through the powerlines others transmitted through radios and televisions in the houses I passed. It seemed others recognized the sacred in me too, cars slowed and pulled over to show their obsequious, the drivers and passengers shocked to see such a holy fellow in their streets. In the outer suburb, people peered out of their houses, some pointed, mouths agape. All kept a respectful distance. As I came to the final stretch the weather turned foul and it began to rain. As the freezing rain pelted down, I registered no discomfort. I felt rigorous in constitution, awake, and boundless. I came to the cottage, opened the gate, and walked up the path. No one had taken the eggs. I fiddled with the lock and stepped inside. Waves of rapture ran around my body causing my hair to stand on end. I sat down and aligned with the energetic vibrations of the cottage. Words and symbols formed in the air in front of me. I picked up a book. Riddles and messages I had not noticed before jumped out from the font on the front and back covers. Why had I not noticed them previously? My mind raced with the possibilities of my awakening. I would be a world-turning monarch. I would lead the people, my people, from misery to joy and freedom. There was a knock at the door. I stood up and walked over.
I opened the door and stood there naked. Two police officers were there. I addressed them.
“I suppose you’ve come to take me to the ceremony to install me on the throne?”
They looked at each other quizzically. One of them spoke up.
“Yes, Mr, I mean Sir. That is exactly why we are here. Now would you like to come with us?”
“Hold on I’ll fetch my coat.”
I turned to go inside. Just as I did the police leaped forward and grabbed me. One of them held my hands behind my back. The other fastened a pair of cold tight metal handcuffs on my wrists. The treacherous bastards. This was surely a plot being carried out to stop me from ascending to power. I thrashed about, seething at the injustice of it all. They threw me on the ground, and one put his knee into my back. My breath stirred dust from the runner on the hall floor. I tried struggling but it was useless.
“You louts. I’ll have your heads for this. Just you see.”
The ruffians started laughing.
“This one, he’s really lost it.” One murmured to the other.
With that, each grabbed an arm, and they hauled me up and started walking me to the car. My feet dragged dejectedly along the pavement.
“Pick up your feet and walk properly or else.”
“That’s no way to speak to a person of my caliber. Show some respect.” I spat.
“Stand him up for a second.”
They stopped and one moved behind me and held me by my shoulders. The other one then punched me in the chest knocking the wind out of me. I doubled over in pain. They pulled me upright again. I gasped for breath.
“You’ve caused us enough trouble today. Shut your mouth or we’ll give you a proper beating. Understand?” I nodded.
I kept silent not wanting another whack. They walked me to the end of the path. They opened the back door of their car and sat me in it. I sat there alone for a few moments. A strange peace came over me once again. Perhaps this was a misunderstanding or even a test? I could see the police conversing in the rear view mirror but could not hear them. Eventually, they walked around the sides and hopped in the car. Neither of them said anything. A radio flashed on and off transmitting patches of static. Buried in the noise was a message. I could barely make it out but there was no doubt it was there.
“Lord Johnathon, stay calm, we will come and save you at the first opportunity.”
I rejoiced. My people were working for my freedom. The car lurched forward and moved away from the curb and up the hill. I tried to free my hands, but I could not. It was hard to balance myself and I leaned into the door as we took corners. Instead of heading into town, they turned out onto the highway in the outer suburb. I watched the smear of the world go by. Houses gave way to fields. The policemen talked amongst themselves as if I was not there. We drove for quite some time. Outside the machinations of rural life played out. Farmers herded Friesian cattle in from muddy paddocks. Sheep dotted lush green fields bordered by stone fences. Fingers of mist from low-hanging clouds caressed the meadows. The policeman in the passenger seat turned around.
“Now, Sir, we will be arriving at your new residence soon. Your rural chateau.” His tone was sarcastic, and the other policeman suppressed a laugh as he drove.
I was confused as to his intentions. The car slowed down and turned into a compound. All around it was a large wrought iron fence. We pulled up in front of a grand old stone building surrounded by well-kept gardens. My heart soared. It really was a test! This was my new residence. An impressive tall wooden door with an ornate handle opened, and a man dressed in white accompanied by two women appeared. These must be my new servants I thought. The policeman got out and walked to my door and opened it.
“Now let's get those cuffs off you Sir.”
“Make it fast I replied.” I stood up and stuck out my chest, I breathed in the fresh air and tried to look regal.
“If you'll just turn around, Sir.”
As I turned, I heard the crunching of footsteps on gravel. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a blur of white as the servants rushed forward. The policeman suddenly pushed me against the car. I tried to struggle against them, but it was useless. I felt a sharp sting in my left buttock. Then it was as if everything went into slow motion. My limbs went to string as my legs failed. I crumpled onto the ground unable to move. The servant stood over me with a menacing-looking silver syringe in his hand with an impassive look on his face. This was the last thing I saw before my vision narrowed and I was swallowed by an inky darkness.