Hidden River

Michael Outside The Book --- So much to say, so much to think. Waiting to see when she will reach the brink. I watch over what will come I am waiting for my love I am watching myself from above space and time. I write the story of the lives my many selves have intertwined I hold the book of all that is and all I will see I weave their hopes with what will be --- Step after step, along a stone corridor. My candle casts light in rippling pools along the cobbled ground. Dancing in swirls as I make my way to the councilman's library. I open the ornate oak door and slip inside. There is a man about my age sitting at a sturdy desk of simple design. I am surprised to see him here. He's a soldier, but I don't question it. We tend to move from role to role and if he chose this, then who am I to judge? "Good morning Your Royal Highness," he says. "Good morning Jeren. You are well, I hope?" "Yes Your Royal Highness", his teasing tone bounces off the high arched walls and back to us. "It's time." I can't help but grin. "Time Your..." He stops mid-sentence. "Of course, sire" He smirks knowingly. "As if you don't remember what day it is". We both laugh as he gets up from his desk. He guides me through columns and rows of books upon books. Ancient, new, beloved and old. To a small round room with an arched window carved out of the wall. Opening to a calm sea, glittering in the sunlight. I sit at a stone table situated in the center of the space. He exits to get what I need. He returns and sets a hard glossy leather-bound book down on the table. Then he takes his leave, closing the door behind him. The pages open flat from years of use. I think back on the first time I saw this tome. No, even before that. I remember when I was a boy. When I planted a seedling tree in our borderland, in the honeycombs where ships take on the form their captain, in this case, I would need. When I was of age, I returned to the honeycombs and called my tree grown vessel to me. Not long after, I was sent to Oak Falls, a place inside this book to watch and wait. I asked the counsel what I was waiting for. They told me I would know when I saw it. I will now be the man outside the book writing the instructions for my young self to follow. Inside the book lays a scene of two perpendicular lakes surrounded by a range of mountains. The warm wind from the plentiful water rises from the book and tosses my hair in a pattern all too familiar to me. At the moment, the boy is sitting on a branch in the tree we live in, spinning a leaf from finger to nimble finger. But not just any leaf; it's a portal that takes the holder from time to place in another age or nearby day. We both see a girl. Her frame is delicate, her subtle light brown skin dusted with lighter brown freckles, creating a sun-kissed glow across her features. Her chocolate brown hair is streaked with subtle dusty blondes and auburn reds. It is pinned up in a polished bun. She is walking on a boardwalk that stretches along one of the lakes next to a passenger train. The walkway leads up to a 3-story building. She goes through the high glass front doors that form a reflective wall. Outlines of people passing by, the rippling lake and regularly passing train form a kaleidoscope of riotous colors on the glass. She walks through the front of a spacious place, through a café and beyond to a door. A girl is standing in front of it; she lets her into an auditorium. There is a temporary barre set up along the side wall. She approaches it and starts warming up. Some time later, the girl that let her into the hall calls her out of the room. I turn the page of the book, and the dancer walks through a portal to the next page. As she walks, I write out what I see playing out so clearly in her heart. She looks up as words are being written on the blank wall above her. Alisa --- I am a tree; my roots go deep into the earth. I am afraid. I can't walk away from the pain that envelopes me. I will forget. I will not dwell on the past I will grow alone So nothing can harm me. --- I stop to read the words on the wall of this book. "I don't need your comments." "I only want to help." The writing continues. "I don't deserve help." "You do, I know what you think you did. No one blames you." "They should I blame myself" I turn away from the wall and walk up a flight of stairs, down a hallway to a practice room. I knock on the door and hear a tenor voice calling me to come in. I enter. A man is on the floor stretching; he gets up. He stands above me just slightly, His slender yet powerful body nearly matching my 5'6" frame. He stops, extending his light brown hand, I take it. His quiet warmth steadies me. We look at each other with bated breath, my brown eyes lock with his stormy bright blues, our lungs pulsing in unison, his clear voice reaches my ear. "Hi," he says, his smoky bright voice washing over me. "Hi," I reply quietly. "I'm Freddy". He introduces himself. "I know, Ali" All I want to do is get to work, so I can get away from this feeling crawling around inside my chest. We continue to hold hands despite the fact that I am internally pleading with myself to let go. "Is Ali short for something?" he inquires. Breaking through my panic. "Alisa," We are still grasping hands, as if they are growing roots inside of each other's souls. "Yeah? I like it," he says in an off-handed way. Freddy I get that holding the hand of a perfect stranger is, well strange. If it was anyone else, it would feel invasive, but her slender hand fits into mine like it was made for me... "Thank you, what are we doing?" She's clearly anxious to get to work. "I'll be teaching you a dance that we will perform together tomorrow at the final auditions." Alisa Crap, he likes me; what am I going to do? This is not why I came here. --- As I walk back to the room where I'm staying after the audition, I consider. Should I just leave? I could go somewhere else... No, what's the point of jumping from place to place? I'll just keep it professional. This is, of course, assuming that I get the job. There are never any guarantees in this line of work. I'm exhausted. All I want to do is curl up in the bedroom they gave me for my use, and go to sleep for the rest of my life. --- I wake up to the sun streaming in through the window of my room. I get up, get ready and walk out to the lake-facing balcony attached to my suite and down the stairs to the walkway below. I enter the auditorium I was in yesterday and sit on one of the many chairs, filling the space. A man gets up on the stage and introduces himself. "Good morning, now I've never been one for long speeches, so I'll get straight to the point. You may call me Mr. Spencer. I am the new musical director in charge of daily operations. I'm looking forward to working with all of you who make it. If I tap you on the shoulder, your journey for this season is over. Now, everyone on stage, we will be blocking the number you all learned yesterday." Everyone gets on the stage. One by one, people are tapped out until only the cast members are left. Everyone seems to be gathering to talk, but I'm not in the mood, so I duck out before anyone can pull me into conversation. I escape back to the suite that will now be my home for the duration of my contract.