Myst Island Dream

This is a daydream that has been hacked into a sort of short story/fantasy. I love the game MYST. It is a fantastic, beautiful world where anything can happen. It must be even more beautiful at night. I wish something like this could happen.

She appears in front of the cabin in the woods. The path before her is lined with pine trees and lit by torchlight. The night smells wonderful, the smell of an evergreen forest near the ocean in summer. The crickets are chirrupping, and in the distance, a lone guitar can be heard. She begins to walk north, her bare feet cushioned by a soft carpet of pine needles. She passes a small, brick building on her left, it's doorway lit by an electric light. The ground vibrates gently beneath her, barely noticeable. She continues on. Up ahead, she sees a building. The path here is lined by marble pillers, four on each side, each with a particular picture inscribed on it. Directly ahead of her is a well set into the middle of the path. She steps up to it and dips her hands into the cool, clear water. She cups her hands and lifts some of the water to her lips. She looks around, recognizing where she is. She has been here before, but only in full daylight and never in its full splendor of reality. She can hear the guitar more clearly now, up ahead and to the right. It's melody drifts beautifully into the night. She proceeds up the path to the library, admiring its elegant marble structure. She begins to wonder who else is here, who is playing the guitar. The last time she was here, she was completely alone. She follows the path on the right, walking past the observatory, towards the dock. She stops momentarily in awe as she looks at the horizon, seeing the full moon rise above the water in it's full, ancient ivory splendor. She continues to the platform above the dock and looks down. On the dock is a young man sitting at the edge, his bare feet dangling over the side, guitar in his lap, dressed in blue jeans, a t-shirt, and a flannel. She knows him, but cannot understand why he would be here. She walks down the steps and over behind him. He still hasn't noticed her, his attention split between the guitar and the moonrise.

"Alex?"

The young man starts and turns around. As he sees her, his face lights up. "Hello," he responds, trying to mask the shock of seeing anyone else here, much less her. He too has been here before, and was likewise alone. He sets the guitar aside, and she sits down next to him.

"What are you doing here," she asks.

"I dunno...just sitting, relaxing...playing guitar and watching the dolphins." He nods his head towards the ocean and the rising moon. As she looks, she glimpses a dorsal fin silhouetted against the reflection of the moonlight. He just continues to stare at her. Words cannot describe how happy he is that this particular person is here. If there is anyone he would want to share this with, it is her.

So, they sat on the dock. She talked mostly, and he listened, adding a thought here and there. That is how their conversations always were. Out on the water, the pod of dolphins swam. The sight of dorsal fins and the gentle sound of blowholes was almost constant. Occasionally one would breach, it's sleek body silhouetted against the moon. There was nothing but serenity in the atmosphere. They talked. The talked for hours. She put her head on his shoulder. He put his arm around her. They talked. They laughed. They sat in comfortable silence.

"Alex?" He takes his eyes off the water and looks at her. The moon has risen past the zenith. "Why are you so good to me?"

"I dunno. It never occurred to me not to, I guess." More silence, not quite as comfortable. He isn't sure where the conversation is about to go, but he instinctively gets a little uncomfortable. She stares intently at his face, waiting for something more.

Silence.

"How do you feel about me," she asks. His body tenses slightly, and the blood rushes to his head.

"You can't tell?" Uncomfortably.

"I think I can, but I want to hear it from you."

"Well..." He is blushing very deeply. He has never discussed his personal feelings before, and he tries to decide how to proceed. He decides to just go all out. "I guess I'm in love with you. You are the most beautiful person I have ever met. I love our friendship, but I'm not sure if there is more than that, because I'm not with you. I guess I'll never be sure, so it doesnt really matter how I feel." He's always trying to play off his feelings as unimportant. To him, it's not him that matters, but everyone else. "I'll just have to be friends with you, and that's fine with me. I'm content with that."

Silence.

"But you want more." Not a question, but a statement of the obvious.

"What I want doesn't matter," he responded with a little vitriol. His frustration at keeping his personal feelings in check begins to show through. "It will never happen. You've already found the person you love, who loves you back, and you're going to spend the rest of your lives together. You are lucky." He is breathing deeply, eyes beginning to water a little bit. "Of course I want more, but not at the risk of your happiness. It doesn't matter how I feel as long as you are happy. If you are happy with the person you are with, then I hope that you stay together forever. I just wish it was me. Since it is not, I will just wallow in my despair at not being your love, but also bask in the happiness of our friendship. If you are happy, I am happy. That is all that matters."

Silence. The moon is in the western half of the sky now. A meteor passes unnoticed across the zenith. She looks at him. Her eyes are a little glassy. She opens her mouth to say something, then closes it again. He is sitting tensely, blood rushed to his head, heart pounding, and on the verge of tears. He manages not to let any loose. The dolphins are still swimming. One surfaces near the dock, takes a breath, and disappears. She puts her head back on his shoulder, but he doesn't respond, is incapable of responding. Silence. Deafening silence. She wants to say something, but she is not sure what. He feels he has made a big mistake in telling her how he feels. He feels he may have irreparably damaged their friendship. She sits back up and looks at him. He looks back and their eyes lock.

She leans over and hugs him, long and long. She kisses him gently on the forehead and whispers, "I love you too." As she gets up to walk away, she reaches to pull a splinter from the weather-worn dock. She gets up, walks up the stairs, and disappears into the night.

He remains sitting there on the dock, guitar next to him, feet dangling. He isn't sure what he feels. His mind, his heart, his soul is an emotional tempest. He reaches over an pulls his own splinter from the dock. He continues to sit for awhile, and eventually leans back. He lays there staring at the stars with their unfamiliar but beautiful constellations, and eventually falls asleep...

Well...there it is. As you can notice, the name of the female is never mentioned. Does this mean that it is about no one in particular? Kind of. It used to be about someone, but no longer. It is now an open ended fantasy, kind of a fill in the blank for the reader. I know who it used to be about, and it is still partially about that person, but only as a boy's dream. It is no longer a true desire. Please email me your comments or leave them in the guestbook. I would really like some feedback on this.
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