In the distance is a white steeple. The church to which it belongs is hidden down in the valley, creating the illusion that the steeple is rising out of the ground itself. The sky is covered in blue-gray clouds and it melts into the blurred outline of a chain of mountains. It has stopped raining for the moment but the air remains wet and I know it will be raining again soon. I won’t see the sun for a long, long time. There is nothing to see in the mist; the clouds have come down now to obscure the white steeple. All around me are those blue-gray clouds, fattened with rain unfallen. The grass at my feet is vivid and it sparkles with rain fallen.
I close my eyes and reach out with my mind. I can feel every blade of wet grass. I taste the blue-gray clouds. Down in the valley my namesake is walking across the river. He stumbles and drowns. In the distance, the mountains begin singing their sorrowful song. They weep openly. From somewhere far away I can hear the ocean gasp before shuddering back into life, it reaches out to me in vain but I am unable to touch it.
And suddenly the earth is shaking violently. It starts deep beneath the ocean where the waves leap into the sky, higher than they’ve ever gone before, before crashing back down upon themselves. They are grasping at the clouds. They are trying to pull themselves up and away from the quaking earth beneath them. Now the tremors have reach the mountains; they pull away from the sky, they shake pathetically before collapsing down into dust. The earthquake reaches me now and I can hear every blade of grass screaming out in terror. I try to reassure them, I try to comfort them but I don’t know how. I want to tell them it’s going to be okay but I don’t believe it myself. The quake pulls itself out of the earth, climbs up my leg and stops in the pocket of my jeans.
I strain to open my eyes. My cheeks are wet but I don’t remember crying. It has started raining again. In my pocket my phone is buzzing incessantly. I reach down and pull it out. Without looking I hold it in my hand until it stops vibrating. Only once it has become silent and still do I dare to look down at it. The little red light on its face winks up at me to inform me that I have a new text message. Against my better judgment, I read it: “Hey how are you doing? :)” Even if I didn’t already know, the little smiley face emoticon would have told me it’s her.
In response I decide to call her. Even before she has a chance to pick up I start screaming into the phone’s mouth piece. I scream as many obscenities I can think of and when I run out I just scream a scream. I scream until my throat is burning. I scream until I can no longer possibly scream and I fall to my knees coughing. I begin to rip at the wet dirt with my hands. I dig frantically, violently. I dig until my fingers scrape against stone and begin to bleed. I fall back on my heels and look down at the phone. I see that stupid fucking smiley face and I slam the phone down onto the uncovered rock. I smash it again and again and again and again and again until there is nothing left and then I keep smashing it when it is only my empty hand that I am destroying. My hand, reduced to nothing but a clump of broken bones and bruised skin. Exhausted, I lay back on the wet grass. I feel like I’m ready to die but I finally feel happy. I feel at peace. I feel that I have closure.
Actually I text back “I’m doing fine” and hit the send button.
“Lying is a sin.”
“I don’t believe in sin,” I say. Her laugh is loud and high-pitched, full of self confidence and joy. My phone vibrates again in my pocket. “That’s great! :)” her reply says. I look at that familiar smiley face emoticon and think of how to perfectly word my response. I close my eyes and scream. Down in the valley, the white steeple whispers nothing to the world. In the sky the blue-gray clouds sigh, the mountains sing their familiar song, and on my shoulder the bird is still laughing at me.
The White Steeple
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