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Dust



He paced from one end of the living-room to the other; taking time out to stare through the plate-glass window every half-hour or so, on a blue-sky day, as the sun shone outside.



‘How do you distract yourself from the very problem that is its answer?’ James Carrol mused, as he watched a young couple passing by, on the pavement across the road, holding hands and, looking so-very much in Love.



He turned away, sadness in his eyes.



James had not slept for three nights; since just before the day his partner of eight years had left him, taking with her his son.



Leaving the window he crosses to the kitchen, telling himself, ‘a nice cup of tea.’



And, with shaking hands he turned to look at his face in the wall mirror opposite the front door reflected back in the dark, the light from the front room high-lighting his worn and beaten by Life face.



Despair showed.



He had lost his job through redundancy and, his wife and son to another, all in a week and, his face betrayed how he felt; distraught, with it all.



James continued through to the kitchen and made the cup of tea that he had promised himself, then returned to the front room, where he stood as before, watching the world pass by, his hands wrapped round his mug.



Finally hours had passed and, the sky darkened, yet still this feeling was inside him, screaming aloud, “Don’t be at ease, don’t be…”



And so he sat at the kitchen table with a notepad and pen, to write of the fears that weighed him down... And, he began…



‘I fear the darkness is overwhelming me…’ He paused a moment, then instinctually wrote, ‘I am nothing.’ Then James set his pen aside and stood. He closed the kitchen roller-blind and walked through to the living-room, where he closed the drape curtains.



‘Nothing… to the world, his wife and, now me... I am nothing.’ James Carrol had found an answer; yet not the one he’d thought that he’d been seeking.



He made a decision, finally.



And, as he drew the blade down and into the veins in his left wrist, blood dripped into the bowl of the white porcelain sink and, down the train…



“Like my Life…” he muttered. “I was nothing, I will be nothing…”



Yet Carrol was wrong. He had been born of The One and had heard him, watching his action, with disappointment.



James Carrol had learned an indisputable truth: ‘The affairs of one man were as nothing, within the pattern and chaos of Life itself…’



Yet, his Enlightenment had come at a price the entity found entirely unacceptable on this occasion. The One, being empathic of All, felt Carrol’s pain and, felt the need to intervene.



The entity had done so many times in times passed and, felt that it was warranted Now.



“I will be nothing…” resonated round the walls of the white-tiled bathroom, as Carrol sank to his knees, clenched palms uppermost, as he stared out, sightlessly.



And silence fell, as blood fell, pooling around James Carrols left wrist.



Abruptly the white-tiled bathroom was whiter than white and Carrol’s eyes snapped open, the pupils dilated.



‘To recognize that one alone is nothing is to acknowledge that one is Enlightened to a truth and they are a part of a greater whole,’ filled his mind as the gestalt entity, The One

illustrated its universal truth.



James Carrol listened, to the thought that filled him and felt a warmth and sense of self that he had not felt for days, weeks, months or years. He was part of a greater whole.



Granted, within the cosmos, he was less than a mote of dust; yet dust coalesced and formed material, that formed planets.



Then light grew bright around James Carrol, as he listened; ‘A mote of dust within the Cosmos perhaps? But it is wrong to say, nothing…’



Carrol stood and breathed in slowly, exhaling even slower. He was alive and looking at his self, in the mirror James hesitated before admitting, “I need a shave.”

COMMENTS

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NikkiAidyn
00:19 Aug 07 2013

There is always light and hope, even with the greatest of darkness.



This story brought a smile to my face.

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Seidr
00:29 Aug 11 2013

Thank you for posting this one.

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POST COMMENT

Watling Watches



A dimension away aside from that we know and, many million light years away, a small grey figure sat before a tall semi-circular bank of coloured lights, that both of his three-finger hands danced over, as his elliptical eyes sought to disseminate and stabilise the signals his station received.



The signals that had come in had been audio and visual; with some being entertaining and some disturbing, sometimes both. Either way, the results had been filtered and sent through to command, or reports were written about his continued observations.



Watling had sat at his desk for almost one hundred and fifty years. And, in that time he had watched and listened to the broadcasts emanating from the small blue-green planet, third from its yellow sun.



He had even taken his name almost a hundred years ago, having liked an actress in a show that he’d seen, initially broadcast in black and white, that he’d liked very much.

.

Nothing he heard from that small world surprised him any longer, not until yesterday that was; and knowing what he’d learnt, Watling could well imagine why so many travellers had avoided the planet’s main cities when they’d visited, for research purposes. After all, it’d been the findings from his desk that had led to the embargo on the planet, by the United Federation of Planets: “the planet and its people were just too warlike…” he mused, “but, that’s all moot now, I suppose…”



Man had entered into space slowly at first, then begun to use bigger and more powerful ships, using technologies that had long ago been outdated, then they had reached further than their own galaxy and, man had become a problem.



That had been the day The Federation had decided to act: Watling recalled how just the day previous, several large grey slabs of spaceship positioned themselves over Earth’s major cities.



A call had come from each ship to every available media, to warn the population to evacuate the planet.



Governments had squabbled, people had panicked, but only two ships had left the planet, before The Destructors had fulfilled their mission, the eradication of a threat to The Federation.



And now, the Earth was gone, as was the need for the listening post Watling had been required to station…



And, as Watling listened to some beautiful music by a fellow called Chuck Berry, who sang of his ding-a-ling he watched a broadcast presented by a small man with a craggy face in a sharp blue-suit called ‘junior’, speaking of W.M.D.’s. Yet now, the greatest weapon of mass destruction was gone and, the Earth was no more.



There would be only a few broadcasts to follow these and Watling shook his shook his in sadness, he would miss his job…



But, he couldn’t help but muse at those who had survived Earth’s destruction, would they too be weapons of mass destruction, like those ‘junior’ had spoken of, or would man finally learn and, one day be ready, to join the rest of the Intergalactic Race?