Horace panted as he turned the page of Time Magazine. It was far too hot in this alleged land of paradise, too much heat within the grains between his toes, this scorching sand screaming to be felt, rather than simply seen. It did not help that he was slightly, a tad bit overweight, when he was at this size he couldn’t tolerate the heat as well as he could on slimmer times and dates. Yet he inhaled sharply, told himself to relax, he was here for a bit of ‘time out’ as his wife called it, more like of Horace she wanted to be without. Still, at her requesting of his trip, he had feigned knowledge of her secret she kept pretty, and pretended to be unaware of her secret habit of flying go-go bats, of this he was proving to not be privy.
Then, from the waters, in the waves there came a sharp groan, as though as a massive creaking ship had appeared and was expressing its greatest fears to be heard, to be well known, a sharp CRACK and a WOOSH, and Horace raised his eyes, a cursory glance, then panic became of him, a tidal wave had appeared. He essentially needed to hastily escape with a rushing and frantic dance.
Move not could he, he was stiffened with fright, the tidal wave rushed forth, threatening his facade of a life. His thoughts turned to his loyal yet preoccupied little Aniseed, his wife, how he wished for her to be here, holding his hand comfortingly throughout his strife. Horace now heard a cackling, now a deep chortling, morphing into a maniacal, gravelly cacophony. His eyes darted upward, and what did he view? An evilly clouded sun witnessing its fill, of Horace’s shiny form, about to be taken by either the wave or her enigmatic storm, he was, how should we say this, soon to be gone.
Poor Horace, he hadn’t even wanted to take this trip, it was only because of Aniseed’s selfish secret dream. For she wanted to be queen and leader of the world’s team of fastest flying go-go bats, and now potentially never again of her husband would she see, would she regret unintentionally planning that? Any caring wife would be concerned, would have investigated his destination with much drive and personal style, to ensure the dangers were minimal for travel being undertaken, but research she had performed, her motives were interwoven. Perhaps the tidal wave would relocate him, allow Horace and Aniseed fresh new starts, or, who knew: Horace may even return humbled and this would be a wondrous view of a new life together for them to start.
For the current Horace could be mean, and somewhat cruel in his manner, looking down upon apparently unworthy, lesser others, and this irked his wife Aniseed to no end. She knew that almost every being had goodness within her or him, and was equal to any other man or woman, no matter how much fortune or stature was held within, it was the character that she prized more. A dichotomy of differences, between this wife and man, all she wished for was excitement and appreciating others for their inner worth, and Horace was a simple, yet calculated man. But in this moment, when he glanced into the malicious eyes of the clouded sun, he knew he must feel this remorse for his past behaviour, that he must change for the good, from morals of almost bare nothing or even none.
Some might say it was an epiphany, that God had touched his soul with his very hands, but what I think it essentially was was the fear of dying an unforgiving, callous, cruel hearted man. He may have been loving to his wife, but to the others in his world, he caused them much sorrow and strife, and now in the moments before his apparent death, he had the moment to relinquish his nasty means to his ends. How he prayed to the Lord for the curtains to open, for the wave to be dissected and fold away, gone, forgotten, for the sun to clear into sunny delightful times, and suddenly – his end was no longer nigh.
Was it all a dream? he wondered, looking into the clear blue skies, his heart was pounding, surely it meant he was a prospect to die, then shuddering, he was left wondering if it were simply a daydream or perhaps his entire reality. Nothing in this land really was what it may seem.
Horace returned to Aniseed a changed man. His character, of his previous preposterous nature, he no longer gave a damn. He naught felt the need to uphold a character so displeasing, not when he had quite possibly been a man who’d experienced a miraculous saving.
© 2019 Alice Well Art, Lauren M. Hancock, also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.
Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose 
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