The Window on the West - Part 1: Taking Leave, My Monsieur

[So, living up to my name, I've been doing that ol' rambling lately. Mostly to procrastinate from exams. And yeah, mostly that. However, I have whipped up something, so I'm a-gonna make a post about it. It happens to be this short story called The Window on the West. And it shall duly be posted in the five cantos that comprise it. What, I'm allowed a touch of pretension, aren't I?!

So yeah, this is the first part. I hope you enjoy it, you random internet dweller, you. At least a little bit? Ah well.]

 The Window on the West 

Taking Leave, My Monsieur

I have traversed the entire universe for this. Broken through bounds known by no man nor god in the search of travels. Nay, adventures. Nay, madness and wandering, timeless and happy. And thus, I return to the wastelands that yearn for me. As I yearn for it.

How long have I looked, how long have I searched. Is it a dash of insanity that is customary? Reveries, the lot of them. That great beast of iron rears up, hissing with venom and charm. The sighs of men and women all around, the relief, the momentary flutter of their hearts, for life will carry on with clinking clockwork. I board the beast as the smoke engulfs me. I am the smoke. Wispy. Peaceful. I float downstream without a care in the world. And then struck by the meteor! Shattering of sanity! You knave, you - you villain from behind the Veil, give it back to me! You will not plunge me into darkness yet.

A cry of a bird wakes me for the last time. Infinity draws to a close. My friend, my raven, what do you do, dallying on the line all day. Do you see the grey skies of the Big City? The shimmering of clotheslines that last but an instant? The loveable ants speaking to each other in thoughts only the wind can read, as they walk on down the road. Empty seat. Grab it. The race begins. Flash of dazzle. Mundane gleam of gold. The window goes by, beast whirs to life and…away, away it whisks.

The Window!

Ah, my soul! The Window!

Do not! Not yet.

 

Let me in…cried the butcher’s boy. The cry of the motorcar haunting his dreams. There is no escape from this hell. I have crafted thee to perfection.

Dark star, give life to the forsaken heavens above!

Swing by the holding bars. One to the other – hop and skip, swing with a dee-daddle in your legs. Like a lilt on the breeze that the moth rides upon tonight. Out we go into the maze of life. The Humanity rises in cuboids all around me. Houses of dreams and nightmares in equal measures, who am I to look beyond your veil into the alleyways of your soul. 

Coffee. Black. Hail the cab. The carriage. Good morning milady. Wherefore does this bright day draw you forth? Speeding across the highway. Ah, the wait is misery. Who am I. Back to the sea must I go. The waves, crashing and swamping in a torrential fury that mirrored the other-self. Azure, though. So blue, flat and deep. Its circles of wealth and understanding is where the journey lies. Such azure, under skies of gold. This is my homeland, ma. The Window on the West, have I found thee yet?

The seas that I have seen

Time, the greatest of them

 

I counted them today, as yesterday

On the fingers of my toes

Hum. Hum. Hum. Mhmmmmmm. The sweet lilt of jazz. Tap those feet. Straighten that tie. Hat, check. Professionally walk into an elevator. Or is that a lift. Caesar cares not! Elevator music. Tring-a-ding. Reach the top floor. Top floor, you say, my old chum. There are floors toppermost than your dreams would lead you to believe. Horatio and all that sort of thing. Never shy away from the heart. You’ll always be a schmucky adolescent anyway.  Wait, zoom back. The universe awaits, Master. You say, are you ready for adventure? Hang on a mo-

Yes. Done deal. All business ready for the shipping docks, monsieur? Good day to ya, and let speedboost be banished. It’s time I headed out. The purple Wild, in its early autumnal bloom, and the wildflower so sweet – ah, so sweet! – there shall be the meeting place. The Romance of our times, acted out against the shadow of the Leery One and victory will be Time’s and Time’s alone. But to escape the machine. Boy, I tell ya.

The Window on the West, on the edge of the Sea, I shall seek thee yet.