Ariadne
by
Cailean Darkwater
I
suppose you could attribute it to my curious
nature but I can't stand a secret. The
quickest way to irritate me is to say,
"I've got a secret, but I can't tell
you." It really drives me nuts! Maybe, if
I could control that impulse, this story would
never have happened. Maybe I should be less
inquisitive in the future. Maybe...
It
all started when I was walking through the
hills... as a result of my excellent
navigation skills I'd managed to miscalculate
a minor detail in the terrain. Like a
mountain. Oh well, this trip SEEMED like a
good idea at the time.
In
the surrounding hills of my old city still
remain echoes of old colonial times. Manors
and even small keeps abound in the highlands,
not tourist attractions but still noble family
estates. To see one of these grey and
forbidding edifices up close had always been a
dream of mine, so when I actually saw the
mammoth cast iron gate yawning wide, a tall
white tower in the distance, you can
understand my temptation.
I
wondered whether entering would be considered
trespassing. Unconsciously I was already
strolling through the beckoning portal, I
didn't feel worried by any laws of the land.
To hell with the rules; if later asked I could
always respond "Hey, your gate was
open."
I'm
normally very cautious, but sometimes I get
the impulse to do something REALLY reckless. I
think everybody has a very contrary element in
their nature, a counter to the everyday.
Reckless.
Like what I was doing now. I half-expected
snarling, savage security dogs to pounce on me
and rip me to shreds. But my passage was
undisturbed. Slightly disappointed that my
actions had gone unnoticed, I headed to the
white tower that crested the knoll.
Does
anybody feel invisible? If we were suddenly
removed from Life, would the world notice?
Does anybody notice the individual in the
crowd? Maybe it's a matter of perspective.
When an ant dies, nobody seems to care, but in
ant society that ant may be sorely missed.
Maybe that ant has friends that miss them now,
and reminisce about things they did together.
Who can say? Maybe I'm just projecting ants
with a little too much personality!
The
sun finally peeped through the cloud and the
meadow lit up and sharply reminded me that it
was spring. It had been a wintry day, an
overcast sky full of dark harbingers of rain.
My sodden clothes were testament to the fury
of the storm. Now... the sun struck down upon
the white tower -- a dazzling, radiant spire
was born out of that bleak, austere structure.
At
that moment, I felt I was in the presence of
destiny. Something special was happening... I
felt that this vision was mine and mine alone.
Knowing within my heart that I had done the
right thing, I quickened my steps towards that
shining abode. The black oaken door
reverberated with my knock, a knell of doom.
Startled,
I jumped, regretted my decision. It's strange
how one can be so sure one minute, and so
uncertain the next. The booming of that door
seemed to have woken me from a pleasant
daydream, abruptly bringing cold reality back
into sharp focus. What the hell was I doing?
Then
the door opened and my heart leapt. A glorious
girl stood in the doorway, her demeanor;
childlike and curious. The vision of purity
and innocence beamed brighter than her ivory
tower.
(Later
looking back on it, I could analyze why she
was so lovely. Her goodness suffused her
features; a heavenly glow that made her
beautiful beyond earthly ken.)
Serenely
she presented herself as Ariadne. Charmed, I
greeted her in kind and waited for her to ask
why I was trespassing. Instead she invited me
into the surrounds of her tower. My fears had
departed me -- I no longer worried about the
logic of the situation. I just let it carry
me.
Walking
into her tower I stepped back in time. The
tower's furnishings were Victorian in nature,
all in excellent condition, a very intricate
slice of life in the 1800's. I've always been
fond of the Victorian in terms of style, so I
chose a large stuffed armchair to deposit
myself in. Ariadne sat opposite me, only a
small table separating us.
She
began to speak with me on an array of
subjects, however it was obvious that although
trained in conversation she had little
practical experience. She seemed to hunger for
knowledge of the outside world. It appeared
that Ariadne had never left her ivory tower.
This
was apparent by her responses, since I had to
explain the most basic concepts of life.
Having little human contact, Ariadne seemed to
have been raised from books.
The
only other person on the property lived in a
small stone cottage closer to the gate.
Ariadne spoke of Jeremiah, the groundskeeper,
with warmth and obvious affection -- he had
virtually raised her when she was a child,
talking to her and teaching her enough to read
the trove of knowledge stored in the tower.
A
true treasure it was! She displayed her
collection with total modesty. There were
texts on art, principles of thought, early
science and the fables of literature. Unlike
me, I knew that she's read all those classics
that I'd bought, but never got around to
reading. I guess I was caught up in the hustle
and bustle, too busy to sit down and
appreciate these literary gems. But Ariadne,
in her ivory tower, had the peace and
tranquillity to clearly hear the evocative
messages from those long-dead writers, without
the interference that we call life, obscuring
those immortal voices.
That's
when it hit me. This was a person never
afflicted by the vicissitudes of life, an
individual raised in a stable, caring and
comfortable environment for her entire
existence. This sweet girl was as close to
perfect as a human being could ever come.
I
felt I was in the presence of an angel; a
wondrous, exquisite but delicate angel. And I
wondered if Ariadne could feel sympathy for
the pain of others, having no knowledge of
suffering herself. How do you explain colors
to the blind? What can you relate it to
without true experience?
I
visited her often after that. She gave me a
key to the outer gate, with an invitation to
visit any time. Ariadne was obviously so
lonely, so starved for human contact. I made a
weekly ritual of visiting her and giving her a
carefully screened and beautiful fatade of
the world outside. She seemed happy to receive
reinforcement to her carefully crafted
illusion -- my commitment to honesty was that
I brought only truth, just not all of it. I
brought the few happy endings, not the
ninefold majority where the endings were not
so happy. Meager scraps though they were, I
was bringing the best my world had to offer.
Then...
I knew one day it would end. It's strange how
some small detail that seems so meaningless,
so insignificant, can have such a harrowing
effect.
I
left my bag behind....
That
statement looks so innocuous, sitting there on
the page. But as I will reveal, its impact was
shattering....
Continued
in Part II
About The
Author
Cailean Darkwater is a young
writer who has been writing for about 9 months now. She focuses on
writing inspirational works that can help other people just by reading
them, a form of "passive, indirect counseling". She invites
readers to respond to her work by writing to her at
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