Dustoff's Boat

The sun rose over the mountains, same as it did every morning. He never looked anymore. Every morning he rose like clockwork. Every morning he would drag the rough rusted flat bottom boat from its storage. Every morning he would attach it to his truck. And every morning, take it to the Lake.

His boat was not a thing of beauty. It was functional, worn, and damaged. A year ago he had almost given up on it when the bottom had fallen out. But he would not give up something he knew could be fixed. After months of solitary work the boat would float and he returned to the Lake he had abandoned years before.

The shore line was rocky, but he knew an easy way in. With no effort he would launch his boat into the waters and sit and fish until the sun rested in the West. Today would be no different. He backed into the clear water, unhooked the latch and watched as the flat bottom hit the water and waited for him to climb in.

The Lake was wide, and cold, and deep. No one had been to the bottom and no one ever would. On one side of the Lake sat the Women. Sister peaks: Satine and Rahab. The peaks were majestic. Their lush green forests called, their white capped summits shone brilliant silver. Their bases rolled and intertwined like two lovers. Satine and Rahab were spectacular examples of the beauty Mother Nature could give birth too. Their beauty belied their danger. They were hollow, empty mountains; they gave birth to and housed creatures that lived in nightmares. Only the most foolish of men would explore their peaks and no man came back unscarred. He hiked the Women before; he smiled at the memory because he could not see the damage.

What lay opposite the Women, was the Mountain. It was dominating, dark, and wild. Its peak was shrouded by storm clouds. Thick tangled woods blanketed the Mountain’s steep sides. The shore line at its base was a mass of marsh. He had always stared at the Mountain, wondering. He had heard of the great hunts that had been taken on its slopes. Of the men and women who had summited the stormy peak and returned, changed by the experience. The challenge of the Mountain taunted him. Today, like the others before it, he pointed the prow of his boat toward the more accessible Women and began to row.

Each day he rowed out onto the Lake the more he could feel the weakening of his physical strength. His pull on the oars did not take him as far as it once did. Sweat broke across his brow sooner and his breath became shorter for longer. By the time he would reach the center, he would be sweat soaked heart racing, breathing heavily. It took longer and longer for his body to adjust to the exertion.

The sun had reached its zenith by the time he had reached his spot. He looked over the side of his dilapidated boat. There was never a shortage of fish in the Lake. He would drop his line and instantly catch one. Day after day, fish after fish he would throw back, none ever being quite what he wanted. Today he cast his line and he waited. The high sun blazed off the Lake and blurred his vision. Exhaustion began to seep into his muscles. His eyes began to feel the downward pull of sleep.

A clap of thunder brought his eyes fully open and he turned toward the sound. The storm that never left the Mountain seemed darker and heavier. He wondered what type of person would dare face such a storm, it made him uncomfortable. Would he ever have the courage to face it?

He turned to check his line and there she sat on the prow of his boat. The scales of her tale shining like gold coins, skin white and pure, her long hair glittered. She looked at him with wide indecipherable eyes. Perfection, sat on the prow. “Follow me,” she said although her lips never moved. He was frozen, unable to believe what he was seeing. Was she a mirage? A dream? Her fin inches from his boot. He moved forward to touch her tail. He looked in her eyes again. She was not going to stop him. She looked at the Women, and she looked back at him, her eyes filled with desire, again he heard “Follow me.” He looked past her to the peaks and looked back at her. He licked his parched lips, dry from the sun. He wanted that. His throat burned. Her lovely face brought him to tears. Her suggestion forced him forward. He shifted forward and reached for her. A smile lit her face that sunk a cold stone in his gut. Over the prow she vanished, her golden tail taking him too into the dark cold blue.

He hit the mud, clawing up for air; he sat up with a watery gasp for breath. The prow of his rusted boat him in the head and he held on for dear life. He clung to the boat sputtering and gasping. His booted feet kicked at the mud in the shallow water of the marsh. He sat in the now murky water tightly holding the boat. How had he drifted to the marsh? The mermaid? She had been a dream. The unforgiving metal of the boat dung into his hands. He looked toward the center of the Lake. Should he go out? Should he find her once more?

He turned his gaze to the shore. A pair of legs, strong and booted to the knee were in front of him. A small pale hand extended out to him. He followed the small ordinary arm up to the face of the Hunter. There were no fish-like qualities about what stood before him. Dark hair surrounded a pale freckled face. Honest green eyes stared directly into his. He was being offered help. He had come to the Mountain. Here he would find no fish, but be forced to hunt for game. To track and try and to often fail and be disappointed. Here finding a way home would not be easy. Here he would have to give up his broken flat bottom boat.

The rust of the boat began to cut into the skin of his hands and arms. It would be so easy to go back out. There was always fish. There would always be fish. There was always the Women peaks.

He looked back at the pale hand extended toward him in friendship and the pale face patiently waiting.

“What are you hunting for?” he asked.

She grinned, “Frogs,” she replied.

Book Review from the Office

Fairest of All: A Tale of the Wicked Queen: Serena Valentino: I always enjoy hearing fairy tales from different character perspectives. I think the change in perspective allows for a whole new dynamic to a tale and opens new worlds. I enjoyed this story. I have suddenly developed a new liking for the Snow White story. I do wish it had been a little longer with more meat to the story.

A Game of Thrones: George RR Martin: The story got me so excited I couldn’t stop reading at times. When I had to go to sleep it was all I could do to keep myself from skipping forward because I couldn’t read fast enough. The book didn’t end the way I thought it would so now I am eager to read the next in the series.

A Wrinkle in Time: Madeleine L’Engle: I could swear I read this book when I was younger, but I have no recollection of the story. It was an interesting story. I learned a lot about basic physics and I liked the integration of science and faith. I did not like the character Meg; she just seemed to extreme and completely useless at the same time. The story ended abruptly and with no conclusive ending, which I guess is one way, although unrefined, to continue the series.

Buddha in the Attic: Julie Otsuka: Beautifully written! Very, very unique way of telling a story from a collective perspective. Julie gave wonderful insight in an understudied and forgotten minority during a very dangerous time. The book absolutely deserved its award.

Tao of Pooh: Benjamin Hoff: The author dropped  acid, than ate a pot brownie before he wrote this book. Some parts were very confusing and it was a bit of a stretch to use Winnie-the-Pooh to explain the philosophy of Taoism. While I understood what he was trying to explain, I didn’t really agree with all of it. I guess I am no Taoist. I also don’t like how he represented Winnie-the-Pooh and the other characters with aspects of human emotion. Overall, I was not impressed.

Fifty Shades of Gray and Fifty Shades Darker: EL James: I haven’t a bloody clue why these books were so popular. I felt dumber for reading them. I can’t bring myself to read the third book because I might melt my brain with stupidity and “oh my!” “Jeez!” “So fucking hot!” and “Fifty shades of fucked up”. Dumbest damn main character EVER. I have never wanted to burn a book, but these would make fantastic kindling.

Dragonsong: Anne McCaffrey: I loved it as usual. Anne McCaffrey has a knack for telling an engaging story. Pern is so wonderfully detailed. All of the characters have depth and personality. I truly enjoy reading the stories of Pern.

The Winter Palace: A Novel of Catherine the Great: Eva Stachniek: The story is very interesting and easy to read. I do not know much about that period in Russian history so it did spark some investigations, which is a good thing. There is suppose to be another book in the series coming out, if I get the chance I may read  it.

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, The Girl Who Played with Fire, The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest:Steig Larsson: Amazing. Excellent writing, excellent characters. I am not one for crime novels but I really had a hard time putting these books down. It made me nervous. I couldn’t stop reading and I had difficulty predicting the end. Too bad Larsson will never be able to finish his series.

The Tail of Emily Windsnap (series): Liz Kessler: Really cute series for children. Not horribly well written, but an easy fun read that you don’t have to think about. Enjoyable.

Clash of Kings: George RR Martin: Martin does have a way of dragging a story. I had to read this book in little doses because it is so detailed and so frustrating. I must finish the series.

Practical Magic: Alice Hoffman: I didn’t like it! Not that it was poorly written; I just didn’t like the story. I liked movie so much better, which is strange, because I rarely like the movie more.

Geisha, A Life: Mineko Iwasaki: Fantastic book. I would have loved to see her in action and in all of her beautiful kimono. I am curious as to what geisha culture is like now. I wish I had someone to discuss this book with. It is so difficult to find accurate information on geisha life or the lives of Japanese women in general.

Ender’s Game: Orson Scott Card: I thought it was an intriguing book with interesting ideas. It’s not something beyond humanity to do. Like all science fiction it scared the crap out of me. I do wish I had someone to talk about. The movie didn’t fully represent the concepts of the book, it made it appear one-sided. A lot of the concepts covered by Card are pertinent in modern politics, in modern warfare, and modern moral discussions.

The Power of One: Bryce Courtnay: It was a very good read. Courtnay has a very profound  insights about life. I learned about an aspect of the world and a time period I knew very little about. I always love books that add to my knowledge. This would not have been a book I would have naturally picked up. I am glad it was recommended to me.

Peony in Love: Lisa See: This book vaguely reminds me of Amy Tan’s Saving Fish from Drowning. It is told from the perspective of a ghost, but Peony is able to interfere with the lives she is watching. I enjoyed the perspective, the poetry, and the story took turns I wasn’t expecting. I like See’s writing style and her characters.

The Fault in Our Stars: John Green: This book has brief moments of brilliance and it did make me cry, however, it was still a terrible book. It was primarily poorly written. The characters made the attempt to have depth, but were shallow. There was nothing in the book to lift the spirit, although I am sure that was the intent of the author. The story itself was insignificant, at least it was to me, but I work in the medical field so it seemed routine. I am not partial to stories I know are doomed from the beginning. It did not blow my socks off as was promised. Sorry Dean and Becca.