A Selcouth Painting

The sillage waited for her dainty being to reveal herself, as the iron-coated scent of a fresh wound seeped into the frivolous leaves hanging feebly on the forest branches. Upon appearing, the girl graced the mutilated feline lying limp in the arms of the forest ground with a bare, brittle oak branch, or staff as she often wished it to be. Sometimes animals landed in this world and without reasoning would fall limp in a couple hours. It was enough to hurt anyone who wished for companionship in a land of solitude. She whispered into the dead, hollow eyes of the forgotten ocelot with a hasty enthusiasm, “I dub thee, Knight of Kristwood.” The tip of the branch prodded the matted orange fur, as she released a pleasant sigh for the animal so far away from home. “Oh, Christina, don’t be a knight. You’ve come so far.” She spoke with a sense of inspiration as the sound of her own name trailed off her tongue. She looked onward into the abyss of a forest that called upon her with a solemn song.

Bidding the newly-pronounced knight farewell, Christina continued into the forest in search of something noteworthy. With arms light and a head in the sky, a game of pretend exists only as the best of ordinary. The trees looked down on her, as they often do, and gently swayed to the music emanating from her footsteps. The roots prodded from the ground, gripping her ankles in a pathetic plea for attention. “Now, now… I cannot play today. Can you not see my mind is in the sky? Perhaps, tomorrow my aims will be on the ground…” The relentless roots mocked her fragility above their earthly graves. Christina shrugged at their persistent cries. She had no need to bother with something as stubborn as they. Their bark thickened under rejection and the leaves leaped to the floor in an aching silence. “The poor fools, they are far too dependent.” Christina let out a sigh remembering the smell of musk she felt in yesterday’s dream. Is that what I’m looking for? The thought quivered her confidence and blocked her previous focus.

A dream. How long had it been since she experienced one of those? How long had it been since a “yesterday” occurred so vividly? How long had it been since she could relive a memory of her choice? The questions scorched her curiosity, thoughts now turning to ash and emotions bursting into a fervid flame.

Her monologue halted at the start of a marathon. Running into nowhere, with no thoughts, and pleading trees. It is the best of ordinary. Ordinary, the thought of something so disgusting irritated her skin. How could she exist as ordinary? She scoffed at the repulsive feeling of a normal mind. Christina’s legs weakened at the perspective of her own being. Her agility finally unmatched with her mind, Christina crashed to the forest ground with a pathetic thud. The soil caressed the side of her cheek as Christina blinked away the surprise of a tumble. “Stupid roots, I told you I am busy.”

Christina rested her hands on the loose soil, the smell of nurturing decay overwhelming her sense of empathy for the rejected roots. Lifting her upper body from the grasp of fallen leaves, Christina turned her head to the sky in exasperation. She stared at the trees, endless in all their weakened beauty. How vivid could something be to appear so dead and drained? Perhaps years of involuntary service had finally pinched away their raw energy of a natural life. Guarding the forest like an unborn prophecy, their duties strayed from facile. Pity tickled the goosebumps rising from porcelain skin, as the steady green seas above her wallowed in an act of defiance and vulnerability. What protected them? Years and years of saving creatures and foolish wanderers from the pitter patter of a merciless downpour, sheltering the animals among them before they fell limp in arms of packed soil, giving a young girl a dwelling for the most ordinary of pretend. All of this and no one to give them a second thought, even though the first was hardly noteworthy at all. She beamed at the thoughts she surrendered to the almost deserving trees. “All you had to do was give me time to think. Love from me will come, just don’t trip me again, please?” She let out a staggering breath following her request, the trees swaying in agreement.

The trees finally loosened their enchantment on Christina, relief flooding their branches as she finally began to understand. Attaining the proper mindset to stand, she willed herself into a vertical position. With her ankle failing to hold her weight, she collapsed again in a pit of frustration. “Dammit.” Stretching out her legs into a more comfortable position, She looked onward West to see what lied ahead. She began to scoot herself across the forest floor, thorns and branches pricking her lower body in an attempt to stop her from wandering too far. Yet, stopping exists as ordinary and ordinary is repulsive.

As she pulled the weight of her body towards the end of the forest line, a field began to emerge from behind branches of warning. The sun shimmered on the dew still lingering behind on the blades of grass from a glorified morning. Her body eased into the grass, her light skin, slightly transparent, but still vulnerable to touch, dampened from the moist dew caressing each thread. As she began to fuel her fascination, she gazed at the destination before her. A small house had began to appear, as Christina pulled her body with eager frustration. Her curiousity growing, she eased herself through the thick grass in a frantic anticipation. Never had she seen something so ordinarily repulsive, something so quaint that it peaked her curiosity in a fit of rage. How could anyone live under such ordinary conditions? Surely, they would want to acquire more than minimalistic decor? Although the house carried a demeanor of unique solitude, the burdening image of bland structure irritated the eyes and scratched at her throat. She must know their intentions, must know their mindset, must know their rationality behind such an earnestly horrid decision. As if anyone could be more ordinary than she already existed as. She resonated as nothing more than a budding flower. Her cheeks flushed in anger at her own posterior. Condemning herself once again, her arms became heavy as she surrendered her insecurities to the green blades that had wrapped themselves around her being. Christina leaned her head back into the swan of green, as the grass prodded through hazelnut hair and desperate flyaways.

The grass could do no more than offer comfort to her forsaken heart. The silence prevailed as the green danced in her irises. A strong wind blowing her silence in all directions, the way silence is meant to be dispersed. Her eyes looked into the sky hovering above her, an atmospheric pleasure taking hold of her spirit like the melody of a past experience. The clouds lingered in the seaweed-like hues covering the surface of this beloved land. They wisped across the sky in a vulnerable and hardly audible state. If they were to be any more delicate, they may as well have never existed. The most simple of birds could whisk them away with a soar through the air, if birds lasted enough to do so. “You are quite beautifully dangerous.” Christina teased the clouds in their honorary movement, as they floated across the sky aimlessly. “As are you.” A male voice interrupted the silence she had become acquainted with. Christina waved goodbye to her beloved friend as the silence disappeared with the oncoming of conversation. “And who might you be?” Christina fluttered her eyes, as she lifted herself to catch a glimpse of the courageous man with just enough courage to frighten away something as fervid as the silence had been. His hair flicked into flames, the sun frolicking on the red and orange tints running through his follicles. He had the most absurd of ears, with one lacking a lobe. His eyes did not strike her as young, nor were they old. Perhaps, it was the fleck of knowledge and prosperity that shimmered in the corner of grey eyes that had her stumbling on age identification. Or, perhaps it was merely her lack of social interaction that allowed her to forget the basics of human observation. “Ah, you’re quick to question. However, I don’t surrender myself to anyone less than worthy. A name is more than a position of letters.” She furrowed her brow in confusion.

She? Anything less than worthy? Curious perhaps, but never worthy. Worthiness was the same idea those frustrating creatures always spoke of. Even if she were not to be ashamed of her current being, never would she associate herself with the “worthiness” of a creature. That is merely absurd. “Then, what do you suppose I call a name?” He stared at her in awe, as if she was asking all the right questions. Yet, he treated her as if she proposed each one incorrectly. “A window.”

“A window?” Finally a right proposition, as told by the slim smile that creeped onto a face covered in the slightest of freckles. “Is it anything less?” She quivered under his glare of questions. His intimidation seeped into her fury, as she boiled in curiosity. “You are quite odd.” He beamed at her accusation, relishing in the words that escaped her mouth in a hasty humor. “Isn’t that the best way to be? May I ask, why would one choose to lie in damp grass when there are so many questions to be asked?” She pointed to her ankle in annoyance. “Are you hurt?” Christina scoffed at his accusation. Her hurt? The most absurd concern for anyone to feel is that of her pain.

Pain, in what memories did pain still exist? In what extremity? Christina contemplated the concept, for she had no recollection of the former sensory experience. “No, I’m in no sort of pain. I simply cannot walk.” He scoffed at her contradictory remark. “Perhaps, you can not walk because you lack shoes.” He pointed at her dirt covered feet. Christina hardly noticed the sense of bare feet anymore. Hell, she could hardly remember when the last time she wore shoes. It was an acquired norm that existed as an after-effect of the past. The past seems endless, too hard to remember vividly. Memories are always so complex here, almost never existing in true form. She only remembers the actions that condemned her to such a place. Perhaps, good memories are merely too malleable to be verified. “I do not believe so. It has been too long without shoes to have any significance on my current dilemma.” Her confidence failed to falter, as she spoke to him in clever tongue and crisp dialect. “Too long?”

“Yes, I lost my shoes in a memory once. It would be unjust to abandon my original pair and put on new ones. I fear they must miss me, the fading creature took them before I could mutter farewell.” He took more than shoes. He stripped her entirely of her previous attire. Christina often viewed it as a punishment in itself, but after so many days here, she had grown accustomed to shame. His expression changed to worry, as she looked up at him through long lashes. “Vincent.” His name left his mouth in angst, as if he was begging to move on. “Pardon?” He caught her eyes with his, a moment of mamihlapinatapai that would never be acted upon. “My name. You asked my name prior to my pestering questions. My name is Vincent.” She smiled at the new worth he had given her, yet, this would also mean he branded her as worthy. What an awful thing to be. To be associated with the same level as a creature settled as dishonorable. She held no qualifying characteristics to be deemed as such absurdity. This man, whoever he may be, wherever he may have come, is not in any condition to determine one’s worthiness. One as ordinary as she knows enough to keep herself out of trouble. Creatures are creatures and that is how it will remain. The only way anyone could become something so horrific is for the body to die and some other second thing that no one has told her. Although, arguably speaking, she’s already halfway there.

She shrugged his name to the side, his queries were far too infuriating to have her focus on windows. “Who lives in that house? I demand to know, I must know. I am awfully curious.”

“Oh, that is just a place of residence for those who don’t think too much. You’re not quite ready for your admittance.”

“My admittance? I’ve been here longer than most, what must you do to live in such a place as that?”

“I already told you, you mustn’t think so much.”

Cristina was tired of unanswered questions. She looked onward, far beyond the tall grass, only to see creatures wandering in frustration. “What entitles them to wander in such a way? Surely acts were that of malice, why must their post-life existence differ from mine? Why can’t I speak to them, surely they are equally alone?” Vincent lingered on her questions before speaking again. “They can’t see you, they exist in another world. They exist in a material realm, you on an ethereal. You can see them, but you do not have the ability to enter their world and interact. You judge those creatures when you know nothing of their interior. It is what holds you back the most, along with your guilt. You carry such innocence with you, but when faced with the simplest of task of forgetting, you refuse to let go. It isn’t hard, you know?” Christina stood up again, as the numbing of her ankle ceased. “Will you get me there?”

“Do you remember your past life?”

“Only the details I wish to forget.”

“Then, they won’t let you in. If you truly wished to forget, what you remember would have already been forgotten.”

“Why is remembering so torturous? Why are the memories that burn not of my choice? I wish to remember the happy moments of my physical body, but instead, moments of agony and bitterness cloud my thoughts. I feel no pain, yet, I feel something distasteful.”

He spoke of a hell where the individuals were simply thinking too much. Christina could barely keep up with his explanations, as she drifted again into her thoughts. “If you constantly try to remember your happy times, then the worst memories are inevitable. How do you expect to exist without the worst of times? Of what value would happiness hold if there was nothing to compare it to?”

“Why would thinking be such a thing to be condemned?”

“It’s how you think that determines your outcome. Your thoughts mock you and taunt your past. You mustn’t dwell on these memories, especially if you wish to condemn those creatures.”

Christina looked towards a creature in particular, distaste foaming inside of her. A being of such intent could not possibly live in a realm of thoughtful freedom. She gestured toward the manifestation, hoping for enlightenment on the being before her. “The creature you see committed malicious actions, but he was accepting of his actions. You avoid the things you remember and are pained by their existence. You feel your actions are to be overlooked, yet, you look at these creatures and believe them to be constructs of hell, when the reality is that they are living the good and honorable life you so eagerly desire. The man you see stole profusely and was drugged thoughtless through the majority of his physical being. Yet, if you look at his interior you will see a being worthy of redemption. A man who suffered more profusely than the items that were stolen. A man who desperately tried to provide for his family, but was left helpless by the law and regulations by the land before this one. A man who began good, but was manipulated by desperation, one of the great evils to dawn upon humanity.”

Christina looked at the being again., this time without the cloud of disgust. Upon deeper observation, the creature looked similar to her. Another soul, yet, a more brighter hue emanated from his core. Perhaps, she could listen to Vincent’s advise. In retrospect, her memories were seemingly just as bitter and disgusting as that of the creature. Could she rightfully judge this creature based purely on his exterior when she was fully aware of the complexity and intricate workings of the human mind? The threads of her being was hammered by the guilt of her previous actions, as she fell again into the grass, hoping for some comfort from this realm. Vincent landed beside her, waiting for more questions to come. “I want to be at peace, my thoughts are always running rampant. I am not as ordinary as I previously thought. I suppose we are all much more complex than our exterior likes to show. Tell me, how is it that I leave?”

“You just need to let go. Your thoughts determine your outcome. Your version of hell is within your thoughts, constantly thinking, doubting, and questioning everything ahead of you. The unanswered questions mock and taunt your mind with frustration. Your guilt, judgement, and malicious memories consume you and hold you back from the bliss of forgetting, accepting, and ultimately understanding. The greatest evil seems to be judgement before knowledge. It works the same as a plague, slowly eating away at your thoughts and infecting you with weakness. You are worthy of redemption, but until you forget and can understand and accept your circumstances, there is no hope of moving from this realm. The fading creature is worthy enough to avoid condemnation. However, your thoughts condemn you. Whether it be through guilt or through the inability to forgive, when you condemn yourself to this land with your thoughts, you are doing the same as condemning the fading creature. Condemning his children is the same as condemning him as he makes no mistakes. You cannot make adequate judgement unless you are entirely pure, wholesome, and embody perfection. The beauty in humanity is imperfection and complexity in mind, only the fading creature can be purely perfect. When you accept this and you understand the very thread of human nature, you can leave.”

“Where will I go if I leave?”

“Somewhere better than here, you’ll exist with the creatures. Although, they prefer to be called the worthy. We must understand each other and take in consideration the details of their life in order to be at peace and live a life of worthy. You will be going, as best as I can describe it, a place of a peaceful mind. A place where you will be gifted with the knowledge to educate and spread the thought of understanding. A place that grants you the ability to move on and be at peace within yourself. You will have freedom from worry and strife. You must free yourself from the reigns of judgement, guilt, and ill-intended thoughts. When you do so and direct your focus to understanding, the body will emerge into a life better than what reigns here.”

“Would you be coming with me?”

He glanced away and directed his eyes and thoughts to sky. He could leave, he could abandon the life here and instead, move on with the others who are worthy. Vincent sighed, slicking his hair back in an exasperated pity for the world he chose to leave behind. If he were to leave who would help others understand? “Well?” She pestered on, breaking him from his thoughts.

“I don’t think so, I still have so much to paint. Hurry along.”