I knew avoiding the negative would pay off. If you don’t look at ugly things you never have to see them. I build a small shack next to the largest pool. The beast visits me every few days. Now, when I see him on top of the hill, I’m so bold as to stroll down to the pool s edge and
leisurely wade in. The runner hiding by the finish line will always win.
His growth is exponential since we have met. He'll soon be as tall as the sun that sits beside him on the horizon. As he grows I wither in constant anxiety. It’s hard to sleep at night. I can’t sleep in the pools. I notice that if I stay in too long, my skin starts to itch and discolor. The itching progresses to a burn when I stay in even longer. Gradually, the pain will surpass the healing power of the pool. If I stay in past that point, I become violently ill for a day or two. I try to leave before that happens.
I can return to the pool when the toxins leave my body. I’m not sure, but I have this unwanted notion that the beast waits until the sick point before leaving. He waits a little longer every time it seems. Or maybe it just feels that way. I can’t afford to be irrationally paranoid. In any case, without the beast, I wouldn’t t have this empowering purpose for my life in solitude. There wouldn’t be anything to fight for or against. I wouldn’t t have found these majestic pools that cure all ailments. Although I despise and fear the beast, I am grateful nonetheless.
In my constant soaking, I notice I’m no longer hungry or thirsty. The burden to suffer for survival is graciously lifted. I can’t remember what color my skin is supposed is to be, or why I’m the only creature with no hair on my body; not that it matters. Time passes as I develop a fine-tuned routine in this sterling oasis.
My routine revolves around soaking in the pool and avoiding the beast. If the beast keeps me until the sick point, I can return after a short amount of time and will not become sick. Early return is only possible when I soak to the burning point. This discovery has reduced the detox time between soakings. However, if I do not return at the right time, the sickness is unbearable. I hate those vulnerable moments. I need shelter over the pool. A place to detox and fall completely asleep without having to look over my shoulder for the beast. I think I'll make a hammock over the pool. That way I can leave the solution but still be in the center; protected from the beast.
In between soakings, I weave rope. I obtain the material by removing fiber from inside the stem of a plant. I twist the fibers into one thick strand and combine the strands to form a strong vine. The vines will support the hammock which will lie over the largest pool. I found the plant searching for food when I still knew hunger. It grows abundantly and aimlessly throughout the woods. To extract the fiber, I cut the plant s stems 2 centimeters from the earth and lay them out to dry. This strengthens the fibers. Once they are withered, I carefully wrap the swathes of dry stems in a net made of wire; and let them float in the nearby brook. When I collect them again, I take my knife and make a shallow slice down the length of the stem. Opening the stem, I watch as the fibers surrender from the stem s walls. Now I take all the harvested strands, and twist them into several equal in girth and length vines. Holding two vines in my left hand, and one in my right, I begin to weave.
The first vine, in my right hand, crosses over the middle vine as they switch hands. The last vine crosses the first vine. The second vine crosses the last vine; and the process continues. I love to weave on the shoreline, lying on my stomach with my waist down soaking in the pool. My hands are busy. My pain is absent. My mind is empty. In this moment, I think nothing. I feel nothing. I am nothing. And it’s a wonderful thing.
There are a few downsides. The vines can’t come in contact with the solution. It’s desiccant to the fibers. Within seconds, the vine is arid and collapses into dust. Another obstacle is returning to the brook in time to gather the harvest. It’s too far from home for comfort. Some days I’m just too scared to go. There are always more steps for me to take than the beast when it comes to running.
“Fuck. Negativity.” I take a knee and bow my head:
Alive, awake,……no hunger aches…..For this feast, thank the beast.