Speaking to the Past

[garentoft 9265]

 

Spoiler

 

 

 

DREAMS

SPEAKING TO THE PAST

NIGHTMARES

 

 

“The weak fear happiness itself. They can harm themselves on cotton wool. Sometimes they are wounded even by happiness.”

Osamu Dazai.

 

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It was the scorching sun that awoke him, shining through the barred window in the ceiling of his cell. His head throbbed in agony, and his tongue was drier than the southern desert. His memories brought him no hint as to how he’d ended up here, and only the excited shouting of Isabel was ringing through his ears. As soon as he sought to push himself from the makeshift bed of hay, it disappeared from beneath him, and sent him tumbling onto the cold hard stones that laid the foundations of his imprisonment.

 

Finally, the Palatine managed to push himself to a stand, and could properly look around the cell. It had vast bookshelves all around him, collection after collection of histories from the most ancient ones to those written within the last year, and directly opposing him was a large door, which with a gust of the roaring wind flew open, and the bright light burned deep into his eyes.

 

He covered them, and pushed forward, plummeting into the roaring seas, which flung him from left to right, in circles, up and down, and with the final thrust into the depths, the sun and the blue sea disappeared, and darkness once more came to surround him, as it had done so often.

 

Washed ashore on a small dock at the age of the sea, the old man, who he had seen so many times before. The silent figure that always sat there, with that fishing rod in hand, who had not caught a fish in all eternity. He proceeded forth, to sit down by the old man, who offered him only a nod of acknowledgement. The old man was, as usual, a figure shrouded in darkness, and he had never quite been able to make out any of his traits.

 

“You’re quite selfish.” The figure finally spoke, and as he turned to him, the figure morphed, twisted, and warped, until the only thing that remained was the boy that he used to see in the mirror all these years ago.

 

“Centuries of tradition… Tarnished, for what?” The boy inquired, his wide childish eyes peeled at him.

 

“Tarnished…?” He responded meekly. The boy had caught him off-guard, he had always tried to repress him, and now here he sat, confronted by him nonetheless.

 

“Was it your duty to? Was it for the family?” The boy pressed on, and his inquisitive eyes turned to a soft squinted glare.

 

“No… It was for… Everyone.  For the future.” He retorted, and yet uncomfortably shifted away from the boy. The mere sight of him caused him great discomfort, an inevitable confrontation that he had sought to postpone for as long as people.

 

“The future?” The boy queried, and as the boy was but a machination of the past, so did he fail to understand the future as it were, and he never had understood it.

 

“Yes, the future.” He affirmed with a simple nod towards the boy, who nevertheless looked as puzzled as previously.

 

“Is that why you never did any of the things I wanted?” The boy continued, and offered a soft pout towards his adult counterpart, who could only feel his heart wrenching at the thought.

 

“We never really wanted any of those things, Eirik.” The man replied, and brought his hand over to pat the boy on the shoulder, but the boy responded only with wrath, shoving his hand away.

 

“That’s not true! I wanted all those things! Rosemary… To run away… Live somewhere far, far from here, where nothing could stop us. And you ruined it… With your duty, the things that you had to do, the future! You ruined everything!” The boy barked in rage, and began to clench his fists with fury, sending punch after punch after the man.

 

“That was a fantasy… This isn’t a fairytale, Eirik. Sometimes we have to do things we didn’t want to, and sometimes we realise the things we thought we didn’t want were what we wanted after all.” He continued to explain, and the boy, perhaps in a moment of understanding, relented his anger at the man.

 

Nevertheless, he rasped through gritted teeth, “Don’t tell me you love her.”

 

“I do.”

 

“No! No! No!” The fury found itself renewed, and the boy slammed fist after fist into the dock that the two sat on, “I would never do that! We would never.”

 

“Tsch.” Eirik clicked his tongue, before pushing himself to a stand. His gaze turned to a soft pity directed at the boy, as he turned around, and offered one last glance back to him. “You’ll never understand, will you?”

 

But the boy was gone, and the shrouded figure that always said there fishing had taken his place. The man stopped speaking, and only stuffed his hands in his pockets. He glanced up to where the castle rested, that white keep on top of the hill, but as he took another step forward, the ground beneath him shattered, and he landed with a thud, once again within the darkness of his cell. This time, the road home would be longer than usual. He thought that he may as well read a book, while he was here.