The Change of the Seasons.

ISAAC GRIFFIN WAS TALKING TO STRANGERS who he would never see again, and who hid their omens in their pockets and held fate in their hands. They were not aware of the fair and waning force that captures the destiny of spirits. Their voices all resonated with the same burst of unwanted secrets, only veiled by expressing them out in the open. They believed their hearts were shaped to fit the appearance of reality. Isaac told them otherwise and they laughed in his face. A homeless woman who was sitting and begging near asked Isaac, just as the sun showed itself between two clouds and a light wind brushed passed between the walls of their hearts: 

‘’ Hey Mr, you got any change?’’ 

‘’ …Only the change of the seasons.’’ he said 

Over the past few days, he had been over thinking. He knew the consequences of doing such a thing. His friends had mentioned he was looking rather pale. He was noticing things. The light reflected upon buildings became more intense, the smell of the sea became a newly discovered colour and the passion of the dawn became his own. He was becoming something that is rarely understood: Individual. 

This is how it started: He was in a dead-end job, working in an office. His colleagues were without dreams and thus without life. No one ever really spoke to one another because no one had anything to truly say. They were horded like cattle into the pen of robotic order. . The office Christmas party was always an awkward event. It was a cemetery of lost sensations. Some went home together to find those feelings, but it only moved them further away from the sanity of their being. 

Isaac would sip wine all night and immerse himself in the drowning of his sorrows. He was hung up on a female colleague, who he had only ever said no more than ten words to. Her face had no expression, except the kind of expression a false prophet would show to their followers. She was the queen bee in the office and everyone knew it. The other females bowed down to her and the men lusted after her. At some point she started seeing another man in the office. He was not special in anyway. He was someone who easily blushed at the sight of cleavage and had no time for the true depths of love. Isaac was jealous with rage and the great fog of his heart blinded his eyes. . He felt the melancholy that comes with the loss of dignity and pride. So, he decided to kill himself. His choice of death was drowning in the sea. He went to his local beach at night when the sand was peaceful, took off all his clothes and jumped into the sea and let the waves drag him out. The sea’s arms took him under and brought him back up a number of times, until he blacked out and was met with silence. 

It was not long before his perception had regained some visibility and he was greeted with the sight of the sea God Poseidon, who came to him upon a chariot lead by two giant hippocampus. They reflected the power of the sea and permitted that power with great composure. Isaac was dumbstruck. Poseidon took the great eye of the sun, placed it in the heart of Isaac and the great light of the far-off land burned the dark veins of his body. . It was a cleansing bordering on purity and as the sun was rising in the east and setting in the west, Poseidon carried him back to shore with his body anew. 

Immediately after, Isaac quit his job and forgot about the female colleague he was hung up on. He found strength in his own image and like a painter soaked his colours in the perfumed air. . He found himself waking in the early hours of the morning between 5 and 7 and finding he had the energy went jogging for 10miles. Even his diet had improved. He was eating more fruits and vegetables. He became more social, frequenting restaurants and cafés. It was at a café he met Eleanor. Eleanor was intelligent and had no recollections of the past; she only ever felt the need to originate the future. There was no time for the rumours of shadows. She discussed politics and culture with great coherence. Isaac was impressed with her knowledge and soon enough they were spending romantic time together, making love at every opportunity. They were inseparable for a time, sharing the loaves of their words with one another and happily rejoiced in their companionship. They travelled Europe together on overnight trains, finding themselves caught in thunderstorms that seemed to follow them where ever they went. It was something Isaac felt was foreboding but something he pushed down into his unconscious.

The days they spent in Berlin and Venice were some of their happiest. Eleanor particularly enjoyed feeling the destiny that the streets of Venice exposed to her heart, which turned her sentimental to the strange weather of her mind. Isaac understood such misty-eyed feelings that often caught you off guard. 

While in Amsterdam they visited the Van Gogh museum and cried at the beauty of the work. It was something that left them both in a strange like dream and they were photographed in such a state. The photograph showed them in another life. When they printed the photo, they did not recognise themselves and threw the picture in the bin. 

Returning from their travels they spent the winter months in Eleanor’s cottage, which was like some forgotten memory. They put logs on the fire and cooked lavish meals. They ate like royalty and swallowed like peasants. 

 

On New Year’s Day Eleanor went for an early morning swim. Isaac was still fast asleep. The sea was fresh and lively but as soon as Eleanor jumped into the sea, the hands of Poseidon took her to the dream of water. As soon as this occurred, Isaac woke and had to catch his breath. It was the sacrifice for having his own life saved. 

Isaac cursed the sea. 

 

The next day, the sky was black and a storm raged with the breath of an enormous giant. Isaac knew it was a warning and ran down to the beach, where the great Poseidon was ready to wage destruction. Isaac took to his knees, submitting to the power of the great sea God and in between the silence of the waves heard the voice of Eleanor. 

He knew then the eye of his heart was the real sun of the Earth. 

 

After, he remembered the photograph in another life and recognised himself. For it was spring and the birds sang anew. 

 

It was at this time he began becoming something rarely understood and talking to strangers who he would never see again. He thought at times he would die among strangers and only be remembered as a violent shadow. Strangers looked upon him for change. He had none to give. He survived in the margins of the world with the only change he had: The change of the seasons. 

Reviews

[Just Kim]

Well, first off, lots of visible imagery,
secondly, wonderful descriptions used
Thirdly i do love the Bold way you started this out.
Wonderful story, set up is nicely done. Hardly anyone uses paragraphs anymore when they write stories, You did. Very nice set up.

[light and ashes]

So much to say, and yet, I am met with and struck down by the feeling of speechlessness....

So many things passed through my mind while I was reading..

Some of them being,
an experience that I had while working in a manufacturing factory, a quote that I've read, and an artwork image.

There are a few things I must know.. What happened to that lovely lady, Eleanor? Did she die?? Did she drown? and, also, what happened to the man?

Did he go on to live a long life?

I give you a 100, for this amazing write. You write with such skill and enigmatic flare, and with much wisdom.
Thank you for an enriching reading experience.
Well done..well done...well done, friend. I applaud you, wholeheartedly.

I, indeed, did have so much to say, but yet, I could not manage the alchemy required to bring them forthwith into words.

[CLR9]

How about some good formatting? Then it might be worth trudging through the blocks.

[Betty Hermelee]

Well written story Danny, very strong with many images remembered; poor Isaac certainly had his revenge when Poseidon took Eleanor…but why? Isaac was unique in that he knew more than the strangers he conversed with…but after hi sea journey he was a different person indeed….very cleverly done and quite imaginative.
Best
Betty

[Patricia]

First let me say I am not qualified to critique a story so I’m not here to do that but what I can say I was mesmerized by this. It was more of an experience than a story and I was completely spellbound from beginning to end. It was original and emotional. So in my humble opinion it was good writing and wished it had been longer. :)

[emmajoy]

' Returning from their travels they spent the winter months in Eleanor’s cottage, which was like some forgotten memory. They put logs on the fire and cooked lavish meals. They ate like royalty and swallowed like peasants. '

For some reason, having scanned before slowly reading.. the above nudged.

Your story is full of language which - in places, seems a little archaic but that said, showed the senses in all shapes, colours and sizes; consequently the characters, places, thoughts and action sped along in parts made fantastic, others in office and social surroundings!

There seemed to be changing moods by the pen, as if veering here to there.. wondered if the first marine plunge would fulfill then stop.. but on you went.. and.. it became more than a mystery
somehow. Intriguing.

[Haley]

This is a really interesting premise and carried out in such a thoughtful way. The imagery is outstanding and flows easily, grabbing the reader's attention. I think it's a great story and can't wait to see how it grows! :)

[alanwgraham]

This is a very ambitious piece of writing Danny. It is chock full of imagery and ideas. There are lots of great ideas but for me the prime aim is communicating with the reader. For me you have tried to dazzle the reader and there is just too much. Keep your best images would tighten it up.
Hope that helps..
All the best.
Alan