Chilled, panting waves licked my ankles as gulls sang praises overhead. The sea’s center clung to its cooling calm despite the arid winds pacing its shores.
“It’s time to choose.”
“I like it here. It’s peaceful.”
“Yea. And safe.”
Schizophrenic dust devils scattered millennial dust and debris in no particular direction; a pointless tantrum of excess energy.
“The winds look desperately frenetic.”
“They are insatiable.”
Perhaps on cue, a snowy capped wave leaped at my chest, nearly toppling me into the deep had my Master’s hand not steadied my stance. We pressed onward still, toward the distant shore.
“If I go, will I succeed?
“You may. You may not. It is not for me to say.”
“But there will be others?”
“Most certainly. You know that.”
“If I don’t go, the plan will succeed anyway, right?”
“His will be done.”
“Then I could stay and everything would be OK, right?”
“You could stay.”
“And my friends and those I will know?”
“Time will tell, but there are no guarantees even if you do go.”
The final rays of the sun scoured the boney mountain peaks ahead even as a chill sea breeze moistly nudged my shoulder blades.
“I’ve got to go.”
“Walking with me.”
“Thank you for walking with me. See you soon.”
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