• Vol. 07
  • Chapter 10

Finding the Horizon

‘This, Daniel,’ I yell, ‘is the best day of my life!’

We bound up a hill, bouncing over boulders, sprung-soled, as groundless as astronauts. Where we end and air begins is a sunlit blur. At the peak, we soar into the streaked blue, gulping mouthfuls of cloud, specks in the chalk dust,
as we drift like paper cut-outs
and alight in a meadow of buttercups, drinking the sun.

We are suspended in the now. Every thread which tethered us to before and after has wafted into the grass. Lost.

And then I am deep in the darkness of my body, feeling pressure on my skin, feeling the weight of presence in my space.

The sparkle of the river catches my eye. It is made of the scales of a thousand fish, each a tiny mirror. The long grass whispers at the periphery, and the water flicks and peaks as it laughs.

‘Come on, Daniel!’

As dizzy as drunks, we leap and somersault above it, never once breaking its skin, and it breathes and swallows beneath us.

And then I am deep in the darkness of my body. There is no breeze tickling my skin, no slather of sunshine bathing my limbs, or warming my face. A voice hyphenates, broken into Morse. My own words are buried.


Finding the Horizon

Daniel and I skim the grass in immeasurable strides, the balls of our feet propelling us leagues, the wind slicking our hair and drying our eyes. Red-tiled villages are pushed behind us as we leap from rooftop to rooftop, farmland becomes a tiny gold tapestry –

and we –

and we –

we see how beautiful the green and black forest clusters are –

green and black –

It is so black.

‘Let’s sleep, Daniel,’ I say.

The geometric sunlight breaks through the leaves.
And we sink into the forest floor.
And I dream.

And my dream tumbles like a storm into a nightmare, where voices, as raucous as seagulls –

‘Need to find the horizon,’ I say –

where the seagulls shriek of death and accidents where cars concertina in trees –

rainbows of oil, beautiful forests of green and black, sunlit shapes –

and the gulls squawk

and squawk their twisted language –


Finding the Horizon

and tragically,
and sadly,
and the boy,

‘Daniel…’ I murmur.

didn’t make it,
and Thea,
and critical,
and unlikely,
but at least they’ll be together.