A memories of Myst and Uru Blog

Some of my memories of the games, and the events. Disclaimer: All of these posts are simply my recollections, and my imagination. Nothing here should be construed as fact. All copyrights of Myst, Uru, and any other intellectual properties pertaining to Cyan Worlds Inc. should be respected.

My Photo
Location: Gatineau, Quebec, Canada

I'm me. Unique and crazy.

Tuesday, December 05, 2006

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

continued from Chapter 1

"As a young boy of thirteen years old," you begin, "I was brought here to live by my father." Your voice is deep, with emotion, as you speak. "My grandmother lived here most of her life," you continue. "My mother died when I was an infant, and my father never forgave me, I believe, for that." The pain of your father's rejection is evident in your voice, and your dejected stance, your shoulders sloped and drooping as though with the weight of the years upon you. She listens attentively to you.

"Did your father stay here with you?" she asks, the concern evident in her voice.

"No," you say, "he left again after dropping me off, and I've never seen him again." She sighs and looks away. "I've never forgiven him for not talking to me again," you continue, feeling lightened, somehow, as the burden of the words escaping is a lightness on your soul. It feels good talking to her.

"What about your grandmother?" she asks. "How did she feel about your father?" after a brief pause in the conversation.

"She hated him with a passion," you say, with a trace of pride in your voice. "He treated her poorly when he did see her and spoke of her with disdain to myself and others. She was my best friend, my greatest ally and my teacher. I miss her terribly." Your voice trembles on the last few words as the emotion sets in. You look away, the tears welling up in your eyes. Your hand goes to your beard and pulls at it, unconsciously, from habit. She sees your emotion and leans towards you.

"I'm sorry for your loss and the pain," she says simply.

"It's been a few years since she's been gone and the pain is still there, at times," you say, softly. The words are fresh and raw. "At other times it's a dull ache in my bones." The words are spoken in barely a whisper. Indeed, the tears well up again and you can't speak for a few minutes. It's night-time now and the crickets softly sing. The air has a chill to it and she shivers. The silence between you grows.

"Well, I'm sorry but I must sleep," she says, and unwinds her body from the chair she was perched in. "Thank you for the talk and the food. We'll see each other in the morning," she says, confidently. You rise up and shake hands with her. Her palm is warm, and dry, and her handshake is firm, and steady. "Can I ask you to find me a blanket please?" She smiles at you.

"Oh yes, that would help, wouldn't it?" you exclaim. You lead the way to your room and undo a trunk, in the corner. Within, are piles of clean sheets and two warm blankets. You hand them to her. "Would you like help making up the bed?" you offer, not sure if you should do it or if she wants to do it herself.

"Oh no, that's no worry. I can get it done myself, quickly. Thank you for these." She indicates the sheets and blanket in her arms. "Um, excuse me, but I need to use the toilet. What do you do for that?" she says, blushing furiously.

"Oh my goodness, of course. We can't forget about that detail, can we?" you say. "Here, follow me, and I'll show you where I keep the chemical toilet." You lead the way towards the bathroom. There, in a small, little room on its own, is a toilet, just as you said, with a covering over the doorway.

"Thank you for this," she says, smiling at you.

"No trouble. Have a good night's sleep," you say, watching her disappear into the bathroom.

"Good night," she replies. She uses the washroom and then makes her way, along the ledge, to her room. You stand there, watching her walk away. You're lost in reverie, remembering the words you'd revealed. You say to yourself, "I didn't tell her enough about my past. I need to tell her more." You go and retrieve your torch from the hook. Then you blow out the lantern. You head to the washroom yourself, and then your bedroom, and get ready for bed. You lay there, lost in thought again. Unburdening yourself to her felt good. It felt right to tell her about Ethel, your grandmother.

The next morning dawns clear, and sunny, with a sky free of clouds. You arise first and get a kettle of water boiled. You're making the tea when she appears. She looks like a fresh daisy early in the morning, fresh and clean and beautiful against the drab grey of the rock. "Good morning, how are you Gareth?" she asks.

"I'm well, thank you, and how was your night in a proper bed Lesley?" you ask her.

"I had a wonderful sleep," she replies, with a smile. "Is that fresh tea? Mm, I'd love a cup of that," she continues, with a smile. She likes what she sees of you this morning. You're dressed in jeans only, with a bare chest. Your chest hair runs into a narrow vee that ends at the waistband of your jeans. The jeans hang on your hips. You're tall, and handsome, with a interesting mole on your cheek. Your hair is long, dark, and messy looking, where your fingers had run through it. It has some grey streaks in it already, betraying your age, a bit. Your beard hasn't any grey in it at all. It's a dark brown colour. She has a illogical urge to get close to you, and give your skin a little lick, to see if your skin tastes salty. Her mind has an image, suddenly, of touching your chest, and running her fingers down. She is shocked inside to have this feeling, to get close to a stranger, after all, and suddenly turns away from you. You wonder what's on her mind, as you see her brow furrow, as she turns away. You pour out two cups of tea and walk hers over to her. Her smile is back as she turns back, towards you, and accepts the hot mug of tea you are offering to her. "Thanks," she says, simply. "Could I have a spot of milk and a bit of sugar, please, for my tea?"

"Oh certainly," you say, turning around and retrieving the milk from the fridge. You don't take milk in your tea. Next, you get the sugar, in its plastic container, off the shelf. She helps herself. "What would you like for breakfast?" you ask, after a few sips of hot tea. "I was going to make oatmeal porridge for myself."

"Oh yes, that sounds wonderful," she replies, with a smile. "Would you like some help with that?"

"No thanks, just enjoy your tea while you can," you reply to her kind offer. "So, what brings you to this part of the country?" you ask her, as you set about making the porridge. Your mind is on her and not on the automatic chore of making breakfast. As you ask her this, you are wanting more details about her decision to come out to the southwest. It feels incomplete for you. The curiosity factor is there, as to why she made this decision, seemingly out of the blue. She pauses for a minute, gathering her thoughts.

"I've decided to start fresh out here," she replied. "Back home, there's too much baggage and despair." She doesn't elaborate farther and sips her tea.

"Sounds as though you have a story in there, in your life. Care to share it with me?" you reply, when it's obvious she's not going to fill you in any farther.

"Maybe later," she replies with a noncommittal smile, and turns away. "It's amazing to see how the flowers grow, even in the solid rock," she says. Even you can tell when a subject is dropped and you leave it alone, for now.

"Yes, it's quite beautiful really how the plants grow down here. They get just enough rain and sunshine to flourish and not wither away, as they would up on the desert floor. When it rains here, it really pours down in a torrential stream." Your conversational tone flows over her and she feels happy again. Your topic of conversation earlier, unsettled her somewhat, as she doesn't feel ready to discuss it with you, yet.

The breakfast is ready. You both sit and eat the hot porridge together. It's nice having a companion here with you, you realize. "I like having you here," you say, out of the blue. She smiles at you.

"Yes, for some reason I feel I know you," she blurts out. "I feel a companionship with you already," she continues. This gives you pause for thought as you digest the words. Somehow, you know what she means. You both finish your breakfast and do the dishes together, you washing, her drying.

"There, all done," as you slide the last cup back onto the shelf. It's a neat, compact kitchen with shelves mounted on the wall. It's plain and simple and it does you fine. "Would you like to try some rock climbing today?" you ask her.

"Rock climbing!" she exclaims. "Yes, I love to rock climb but have only done it on a climbing wall," she continues. "Where would we be doing it?" Her face is eager, and open with excitement, at the thought of climbing.

"I've been exploring some caves in this area, and have found a deep one, that I'd like to try out today. Would you be interested in trying it out?"

"Yes, I'd love to try it out but I don't promise to be brave with a cave! I may find it too claustrophobic," she replies. Her face is smiling as she says that. You can tell she's not too worried about it all.

"Well, you'll never know until you try!" you say, with a hint of pride in your voice, for her brave attitude.

"I suppose it doesn't really matter if I leave my car sitting for another day, after all. What's another day?" she says, laughing.

"Yes, your car is likely safe, if it's not working, anyhow," you agree, thinking about that for a moment. "Well, let's get ready to do some climbing then, okay?" You smile at her.

"Sure, I'll go get ready." She walks off to get changed. You set about getting your ropes and other climbing equipment organized. She watches you, enjoying the sight of you working in front of her. The sight of a guy with just jeans on, with no top, is somewhat appealing to her. Again, she's shocked at the feeling of wanting to touch you, for some reason. She also feels light, and free, and happy, this morning. The matter of her car, sitting there, broken, is not on her mind at all now. The air is dry and warm today with the sun just peering into the cleft now as it rises in the sky. The cleft warms up and you start to feel warm, working at packing the ropes into a carryall. You don a shirt, hiding that lovely chest hair.

Finally, you are ready to go. She's got running shoes on and comfortable jeans and a t-shirt. You invite her to climb up the ladder first and then you follow her with the carryall. You ask her, "Would you like to practice a bit here, just down into the cleft?" She agrees and you get set up there with a piton. The rope is belayed and then you go over the edge of the cleft. After you rappel down and climb up again, you help her get her hands set correctly with her harness on. As your arms go around her, showing her the proper way to hold the rope, you get a longing to kiss her. It's an unnatural reaction, after all. This is a woman whom you barely know. But it's there. The moment passes.

"Oh, I'm a bit scared, at this bit, the going over the edge." She looks a little worried and hesitates, for a moment.

"Don't worry, the rope attached to the piton will support you. I'm right here in case anything goes wrong." You regard each other and smiles break out on both faces.

"Okay, here I go." She lowers herself over the edge. She descends fairly smoothly down to the bottom of the cleft. Cheering, her arms in the air, you hear her whoop, "I did it! Hurray!"

"Good for you," you say, looking over the edge, down at her. You pack up the ropes again, as she climbs up the ladder, to join you. "Okay, off to the caves now," you say. You point out the direction you want to take to the cave. She is helping out by carrying the knapsack of food you're bringing, with the lunch within it. You trudge along, the dust rising in your wake.

"This brings back memories," she says, with a laugh. "I was so glad to find your little cleft and find that fresh water."

"Yes, you looked as though you needed water," you reply, with a similar, short laugh. You make your way up the slope of the ridge. It is quite a long, and dusty walk. Then, descending down the ridge, it's hard to not walk too fast. After a one hour walk, you get to the mouth of the cave you've found. "Okay, here we are," you announce. "Ready for some adventure?" you ask her with a wicked grin on your face. She laughs out loud, enjoying this adventure.

Continued in Chapter 3


Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

<< Home

View My Stats