Tucker winced as the gruesome sound of battlefield cries for mercy pierced the silence. The audible violation was sudden but it was gone as quickly as it came. He kept his eyes closed, concentrating; forcing the calm upon himself.
Again. Another cry, but this time from a woman. A sudden burst of whaling and a disturbing image of her kneeling over a charred body, too small to be an adult. Her hands hovered and shook violently with her palms just inches over the ashen corpse as she howled. The body was too hot to touch and yet she wanted to hold the remains close to her. Again, the image and sounds were gone.
He shifted and took a moment to wipe the sweat from his palms onto his pants. He refocused; smelling the air and listening to his surroundings; the ambient calm of nature. A drop of sweat fell from the tip of his nose. He breathed deeply and tried to clear his mind, tuning in to the sound of his exhaled air.
This time an explosion. Tucker flinched as the blast struck him in the chest. He beheld a city in ruin. Thick black smoke that drowned out the sun. Rubble and debris scattered across the area as if an angry giant had demolished a castle with its bare hands. Thick wooden beams, charred and smoking, jutted from the piles in all sorts of irregular directions. Blood and limbs littered the scene. Everything was on fire. Everything was dead. There was no semblance of what had been. Tucker gasped aloud as his eyes shot open. He held his breath for an instant as he struggled to grasp the reality of where he was.
The reflecting pool was crystal clear. It spanned across most of the courtyard for almost 90 meters. Its outer rim was adorned with an impeccably manicured hedge and beyond that, a walking path along the pool's entire circumference. Marble statues of pure white occupied many places in the courtyard. All females, frozen in time, displaying scenes of prowess, strength and beauty. Beyond the paths and statues were covered walkways and serene architecture. Each passage was lined with marble Grecian columns, white as snow. There was a beautiful symmetry and order about them as they effortlessly stood, steadfastly supporting their structures and temples. Each and every pantheon was adorned with deep orange, terracotta tile crowns.
He was kneeling on the marble rim of the pool in an attempt to meditate. Looking down, he found his hands clenched tight against his thighs. Beyond that, he saw his reflection in the pool looking back at him. His brow was still furrowed. The lines in his forehead between his eyebrows were distinct and hardened, creating a channel for the sweat on his forehead to travel to his nose. Tucker reached up and kneaded the creases in his flesh between his brows. They never went away; those lines formed by enduring anguish and sorrow. They may never go away. Maybe this time though, he thought' He slowly removed his fingers from his forehead and looked into the pond. They remained. He's been at this for almost a year now, living in this Sanctuary, and the damage to his soul and spirit still lingered.
Perceval reached toward his image in the pool and swatted the water. His reflection shattered in a thousand ripples. It felt satisfying, albeit a temporary and inappropriate release. He looked up to find that he wasn't alone. Several women, some individually and some together, sat along the rim of the pool just like him, gazing into its serenity, until it was disturbed, that is, by the ripples he had created; the turbulence and unrest he had caused. Tucker stood, embarrassed, and gave them all a nod of apology with pursed lips. The women simply looked at him impassively and went back about their meditation. He collected his shirt from the ground and made his way to his living quarters.
Again. Another cry, but this time from a woman. A sudden burst of whaling and a disturbing image of her kneeling over a charred body, too small to be an adult. Her hands hovered and shook violently with her palms just inches over the ashen corpse as she howled. The body was too hot to touch and yet she wanted to hold the remains close to her. Again, the image and sounds were gone.
He shifted and took a moment to wipe the sweat from his palms onto his pants. He refocused; smelling the air and listening to his surroundings; the ambient calm of nature. A drop of sweat fell from the tip of his nose. He breathed deeply and tried to clear his mind, tuning in to the sound of his exhaled air.
This time an explosion. Tucker flinched as the blast struck him in the chest. He beheld a city in ruin. Thick black smoke that drowned out the sun. Rubble and debris scattered across the area as if an angry giant had demolished a castle with its bare hands. Thick wooden beams, charred and smoking, jutted from the piles in all sorts of irregular directions. Blood and limbs littered the scene. Everything was on fire. Everything was dead. There was no semblance of what had been. Tucker gasped aloud as his eyes shot open. He held his breath for an instant as he struggled to grasp the reality of where he was.
The reflecting pool was crystal clear. It spanned across most of the courtyard for almost 90 meters. Its outer rim was adorned with an impeccably manicured hedge and beyond that, a walking path along the pool's entire circumference. Marble statues of pure white occupied many places in the courtyard. All females, frozen in time, displaying scenes of prowess, strength and beauty. Beyond the paths and statues were covered walkways and serene architecture. Each passage was lined with marble Grecian columns, white as snow. There was a beautiful symmetry and order about them as they effortlessly stood, steadfastly supporting their structures and temples. Each and every pantheon was adorned with deep orange, terracotta tile crowns.
He was kneeling on the marble rim of the pool in an attempt to meditate. Looking down, he found his hands clenched tight against his thighs. Beyond that, he saw his reflection in the pool looking back at him. His brow was still furrowed. The lines in his forehead between his eyebrows were distinct and hardened, creating a channel for the sweat on his forehead to travel to his nose. Tucker reached up and kneaded the creases in his flesh between his brows. They never went away; those lines formed by enduring anguish and sorrow. They may never go away. Maybe this time though, he thought' He slowly removed his fingers from his forehead and looked into the pond. They remained. He's been at this for almost a year now, living in this Sanctuary, and the damage to his soul and spirit still lingered.
Perceval reached toward his image in the pool and swatted the water. His reflection shattered in a thousand ripples. It felt satisfying, albeit a temporary and inappropriate release. He looked up to find that he wasn't alone. Several women, some individually and some together, sat along the rim of the pool just like him, gazing into its serenity, until it was disturbed, that is, by the ripples he had created; the turbulence and unrest he had caused. Tucker stood, embarrassed, and gave them all a nod of apology with pursed lips. The women simply looked at him impassively and went back about their meditation. He collected his shirt from the ground and made his way to his living quarters.