Keep Your Mind Clear

Small waves float lazily on a nearly white sea. A seagull rides those waves, unbothered, unmoving. The sky is clear but in the distance, over the horizon they’re dark and ominous, moving towards the mainland where a flash flood will cleanse the dry earth after weeks of heat and no rain.

Richard Turse walks along the sand, head down, dragging his feet. His hands are both placed inside the pockets of his beige khaki shorts, and his hair drops in front of his eyes in a snake curl that he blows away several times. His head kind of feels like the sky. There’s sun, and thick clouds, and the feeling that something sinister is coming. Like soon his mind is going to simply stop providing him with comfort, and it’ll all be replaced with discomfort. His skin will feel too tight, and he’ll develop some serious form of agoraphobia.

Depression isn’t at the forefront of his mind, but it’s there. He’s heard friends and family talk about it, but he’d never felt it first hand. His ex-girlfriend, Holly Jensen had once told him that it had nothing to do with sadness, that it was simply an inability to feel comfort, and an inability to feel at one with the natural world.

He understood that now. Couples sat on the beach, scrolling on their phones. The sun blinded the screens, and he wondered if they could even see what they were looking at?

He wants to yell, “Hey, is there anyone out there? I’m looking for human life, human connection. Can anyone hear me?” But like every other time, he remains quiet, when he wishes he could speak up.

Up ahead, he sees something. And hears a hoarse voice singing out of tune. Richard squints and as he approaches he sees a man who must be on his knees, because he’s barely half the height of Richard, then he supposes it could be a little person, and then he stops squinting incase offense is taken at this man zeroing in on what the little person might suspect is some kind of circus freak. So, he returns to his casual walk, staring down at the sand, and the voice gets louder and clearer.

They sent me off to Vietnam

And I came home, half a man

They sent me off to Vietnam

Now all I have is a tin can

Richard can see the man clearly now, and he isn’t a little person, rather a legless veteran planted in the sand by the water with a cup held out. His eyes are closed, his face is old and his beard hangs down to his chest. The man is wearing a tattered faded green army jacket with pins and patches etched all across. And he notices the ring finger of his left hand is nothing but a stub, and he feels shitty for letting his mind tell him that his problems were the worst in this world, when there were people like this who still found a reason to wake in the morning.

Before he knows it, he’s standing in front of the man and the shadow from his body creates shade that opens the veterans eyes.

He looks down at the man and tries to hide pity from his face, but feels as though he’s failed that test. So, he sees the cup and inside his shorts he hauls out some change, nods his head and drops it in the cup.

There’s a splash, and he looks down to see it’s filled with coffee.

“Oh, my goodness. I’m sorry, sir. I’m so sorry.”

And instinctively, due to the nerves and guilt he’s feeling, Richard reaches down to put his hand in the scolding hot cup of coffee, and the veteran grabs his wrist. It feels like fire scolding his skin, and Richard lets out a scream and looks into the man’s eyes to see only empty white.

“Show us, then”

As he pulls his hands free, he stumbles back into the sand. But it’s no longer sand, just a blank nothingness. He rubs his hands on the surface and looks behind him, nothing. He rubs at his eyes, and tries again. The same thing.

The man is gone, the couple on their phones. The blue in the sky, the clouds, and darkening horizon, all gone.

“What’s going on?” He asks, and then screams it. “WHAT IN THE HELL IS GOING ON?”

He puts his hands on his face, rocking back and forth and says, “bring back the sand, the sky, clouds. Bring it all back.”

Then he puts his hands next to him, and can feel the softness and the heat. He opens his eyes, and the sand is back, and the sky, but there’s nothingness where the water was, and Richard says softly, and questioningly, “uh the beach? The water?” And it returns.

Richards gets back on his feet, and the beach is back but there are no people, and he thinks he’s going crazy. He thinks about the couple on their phones, and looks in the direction where they were, and they appear, like nothing happened. Still scrolling the darkened screens.

It must be a dream, he thinks. It has to be a dream or everything he’s ever learned about the world, about time, space, all of it, was a blatant fucking lie. Because if an old legless man grabbing his wrist could stop the world and he could bring it back by thinking, then what in the holy hell did everything mean?

So he tries to bring back the legless man. He thinks and looks at the spot where he was just sitting. Richard feels foolish like he’s Professor X or something, holding his temples, trying to use his newfound power, or curse, or whatever it was, to make a man reappear. But he won’t.

So he continues along the beach, trying to remember everything as it was, but realizing just how hard that is, and just how much he’s gone through his days lately like a zombie, not paying attention to anything around him.

But then he clears his head, and says, fuck it. If he can’t remember, he’ll just make it better. He looks up ahead, and thinks of a jungle gym, monkey bars, a large slide that snakes around, and lands on soft ground. Kids laughing, and parents pushing them on the swings. Then beside that he puts in a splash pad, and a volleyball net, and a basketball court. Before long the beach is filled with laughter, and Richard smiles.

His legs are tired so he puts a bench to his left, and he sits and looks out. He imagines sail boats, yachts, and a cruise ship in the distance. He takes away the storm clouds over the horizon, and he puts a cold can of beer in his right hand.

And then in the empty spot next to him, he thinks about Holly Jensen, and when she appears, she says, “Hi, Richard,” and puts her hand out. Richard puts his hand on hers, and they look out at the water. “Things have been crazy, Hol. Real crazy. But maybe they’ll be okay. Maybe we can just stay here?l?”

And when he looks at her, she smiles but her eyes are hollow like the legless man.

“Keep your mind clear, Richard. Keep your mind from darkness.”

“What?”

And she points to the water. The water begins to turn red, and the storm clouds return.

“Don’t think about death and destruction, Richard. Keep your mind clear.”

And Holly begins to laugh maniacally. Mouth wide, too wide. Like her jaw should be broken. And then the voice of the legless man in his head, “They sent me off to Vietnam,” and the ring of artillery fire.

Richard falls off the bench, and sees a platoon of men in green, shooting at the Viet Cong.

“No, no, no, no.”

Then his mind is racing. He looks out and Professor Halburton, his History professor in college is standing in the sand with a whiteboard behind him. His eyes hollow. Blank white, and he has a stick and he’s pointing it at the board.

“Today’s lesson will be about the Salem Witch trials which began in February of 1692.”

And then Halburton points the stick beside him, and Richard looks.

Two women tied to a wooden pole scream as flames rise up, and burn their flesh.

Then Halburton says, “Today’s lesson will be the Holocaust”

“Today’s lesson will be about Columbine.”

“Today’s lesson will be about 9/11”

“Today’s lesson will be about Rwanda”

“Today’s lesson Richard will be about the bloodshed of everyone you love.”

He sees his parents lying in an x on the sand over each other. His little sister next to them. He’s crying now, holding his head.

“Please stop. Please, Dear God, stop”

He closes his eyes, screaming. And when he opens them, the couple who was staring at their phones, are looking up at him like he’s crazy. They do so only for a second, before returning to their screens.

Richard stands up slowly, shaking.

They sent me off to Vietnam

And I came home half a man

They sent me off to Vietnam

Now all I got is a dirty tin can”

Richard sees the body in the distance. And he wants to run the other way, but something is telling him that he can’t. That he shouldn’t. That he needs answers to whatever in the hell just happened.

And so he gets up, and walks slowly towards the legless man singing. As he approaches, he gets a sickening sense of deja-vu. He stops in front of the man he’s holding out a cup, but this time it’s empty. He does a double take just to make sure, but it’s empty, except for a few small coins.

“Do you uh know me?” Richard asks, and the man opens his eyes.

“Keep your mind clear, boy.”

“What in the hell was that?”

“Your world is coming to an end.”

“What?”

“Your world is coming to an end, Richard.” The blank eyes stare up at him. “The only way to keep your life intact is to rebuild it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The time will come when you’ll have to rebuild this world. And you’ve seen how beautiful it can be, but also how tragic. You’ll need training.”

“Training?”

The man puts the cup out. “Drop the change.”

Richard takes the change from his shorts, and drops it in.

Again, he grabs his wrist.

"Show me, then"

Again, nothingness.