Love and the Sea and Everything in Between

chapter two

I wake Tuesday morning, the memory of a gentle smile my first thought.

As I lie here, the morning light filtering through my window, my mind is a mirage of fragmented memories and dreams. They're distorted fractals of countless stories that I've stored inside. It's both a blessing a curse to be greeted each morning by the memories of days gone by.

But today is a new day.

Scooting myself to a sitting position, I grab my journal and fold it open in my lap. I stare at the blank pages, lines of infinite possibility, a future waiting to be claimed.

Today is a new day, I write. I don't know if it's hope I feel, or that strange euphoric feeling that comes with a bipolar "high", but I write it down anyway. Because it's the bright moments that need to be remembered most. Even if they're just a glimmer.

My heart skips a beat as Elizabeth Richards returns to the forefront of my mind. I see her eyes as clearly as if she were sitting in front of me. They're sirens, spurring me into maddening curiosity.

I need to know her, I write, the tip of my pen tearing into the page of my journal. The ink spills onto the page as I write. I can't explain it, but I need to know her.

Flipping through the pages of my journal, I find a folded up piece of yellow paper. I let it dangle between my fingers a minute before I begin to unfold it with care.

I stare at it, memorizing its words, retracing the path the pen took, losing myself in the drops of blood that stained the page.

Folding the piece of paper up and setting it aside, I pick up my pen and write again.

I will know her. She will be my one last adventure. What have I got to lose?

I close my journal, grab my towel, and head to the showers.

* * *

I see her in my first class of the day, Intro to Philosophy. I sit in the far back row in the far right corner. She sits one row up, but on the far left. I count the spaces and seats between us. Two tables, thirteen chairs, thirteen strangers whose names I don't recall.

My laptop is open in front of me, my fingers lingering on the keys, interrupted mid-sentence. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch her, her attention fixed on the professor.

By the time my mind returns to the lecture, the conversation has turned into a debate about heaven and hell and what the religions of the world say about them.

"There are some who believe Hell to simply be the end of existence," Professor Garcia says. "They take the Atheistic idea that after death, we simply cease all being, and meld it together with this idea of Hell. So in the end, we have the righteous, who spend eternity in heaven, and the unrighteous who simply cease to exist.

"There are those who believe that the absolute end of existence is incentive enough for someone to believe in their respective deities and that there needn't be more."

A few rows over, Jeremiah raises his hand. "Doesn't the book of Revelation talk about what hell is like? Doesn't it mention the lake of fire?"

Garcia smiles, nods, and says, "Many scholars believe that due to the book of Revelation's apocalyptic nature the descriptions of the Apostle John's visions are intentionally far-fetched in order to convey surrealist ideals. Much like J.R.R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings saga, the book of Revelation was a fantastical story to give the believer an idea of what the "end" might look like. It was John's way of utilizing the human imagination to get his point across.