#100 Relaxation

There is a place… no, not so much a place… a collection of places, somewhere in among the vast and incredible things that for want of a better word, we refer to as dimensions.

Getting there is both simple, and difficult.

Finding the places…

Look at the spaces between shadows and light, at the dark black centre of a flame on a candle, at the things that really, truly are incredible… and you may catch sight of them.

They are at one and the same time simple and complex. Some are filled with people, others occupy only one.

There is one filled with a suburban street, and in it a beautiful young Japanese couple, the woman with eyes darker than they ought to be, as though she is haunted by deeds done. The husband holds her often and tells her calmingly that there's no need for her to have to stay so strong anymore, if she wants, she can cry and be vulnerable, and he won't ever think any less of her.

She is impressed by his ability to know when she is feeling a failure, and the way he can always bring her out of the gloomy trance it puts her in. Often she is overwhelmed by the feeling of realisation that it is for that very reason that she fell in love with him to begin with.

There is another place, a beach where the sun is always about to set. An old man sits there on the sand, staring out to the ocean. Sometimes people pass and ask him what he is waiting for.

He replies "Sachiko… this is where we went on our honeymoon. I promised her I'd meet her here."

He is a devoted man, both to his job and his family. That is probably why sometimes his beach clouds over and storms rock the ocean, remembering the son and wondering where it all went wrong.

Age has no meaning in these places. There is a man who lives now as a child, re-living his childhood how it should have been, without the traumas that sent him spiralling into insanity. He runs and plays with his mother and father, the children at school are all good and his friends. They name Teru class president over and over.

Sometimes he cries about what he did before. But he knows that the very fact that he begs forgiveness proves that he deserves this place of his own.

There is a place filled with flashing lights and beautiful ballgowns. A blonde woman walks down the red carpet over and over again, sometimes holding the hand of a little brother, brought along for the premiere, or stood between proud parents, smiling like nothing in the world would ever be wrong again.

Ah, there, look closely now, you might miss it otherwise.

A large place, this one.

There's the huge country house, and the grounds full of children laughing and playing, so full of possibilities. Among them, there's a man, laying on his back in the grass, arms behind his head, and he's smiling. He looks so gaunt and thin you might think this is the first time he's ever smiled.

He has good reason to be happy. Near him sit two boys, younger than him by a few years, one with crimson hair, clad in stripes, the other blonde and leather-wearing. They're laying in one another's arms, looking so natural together one might wonder if they had been born that way.

There is a sense that the blonde has spent his life being angry and competitive, it's only now that he can really just enjoy being.

On his other side…

He could almost be his twin. Perhaps they are twins, it's hard to tell.

But there is a difference, subtle, and visible only to someone who knows where to look. This other boy's eyes are tinted strangely, so that when the light is just right, one can see they are red, not black like the original. He turns over and clutches his doppelganger's arm lovingly.

An old man approaches the four with a tray of angel cakes. The four boys burst out laughing at some inside joke.

Past this peaceful place there is a strange parody of hundreds of love stories being played out. A man on one knee before a woman, behind them the Eiffel tower.

She smiles and holds out her hand to his almost too-handsome face. He places the ring, a cluster of diamonds, upon her finger and as they kiss, fireworks light the sky.

Tomorrow it might be elsewhere, an American venue, perhaps, if she can think of one. She whispers into his ear as they embrace that he's a sucker for a good cliché, proposing in Paris.

He replies in French, just to see how pretty she is when irked.

Between the places fly creatures that were once monsters of bone and bandage, made to bring death.

But they died for love, and there is no greater thing in this or any other world than the power of love.

It turned them from sand into what they are now. The two of them flying in beautiful patterns, a tall, pale, beautiful woman, long lavender hair flowing down her back, a gown of white.

A young man, skin mottled with scars and stitches, mis-matched eyes, and slightly stubby fingers… but oh; he is beautiful and happy at long last.

No longer gods and glad to be rid of the titles.

They happily take their new duty of being guardians. Perhaps it was what they were always born to do.

There are other places. Many, many more. Relaxing little pockets of time.

Filled with people who, after long, hard lives of being basically good, kind, decent and human, have earned their relaxation in heaven.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I hope you have enjoyed these 100 little stories, I can't say I enjoyed writing all of them, as the ideas didn't always come easy, but I certainly have enjoyed all of your thoughts and comments, and I have to say, looking at all those titles in the chapter list… I'm a little sad its over… but really, very proud. :)

Your humble author
Esk