The Brief Life of Tia Green - III

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Five

Consequence

Tia gripped her face with shaking, sweaty hands. She dared to peak through her fingers to find nothing to see. Then, snapped her head left, right, up and down: pitch blackness enveloped her. Beneath her? There was nothing. She was neither gliding, falling nor soaring. There was no smell, and other than her frantic rasping, no sound. She willed Tialand into being. It did not appear. The city. It did not appear. Her flat. Anything. Anywhere.

The temperature soared. The ground that appeared beneath her naked feet was molten metal. An incalculable number of shrieking people surrounded her, flaming arms outstretched; crisping fingers reached up to her as the bodies they were attached to sank beneath the white hot surface. Screaming, she jumped to fly, and couldn’t, then scrambled for a hand hold above her, there was nothing. As she landed back on the liquefied floor, she caught fire. A man yelled as flames burst from blackened eye sockets, he grabbed her shoulders with burning hands and pushed her downward. Powerless, she sank, as his blazing stumps pressed down on her head and knees pushed on her shoulders. She snatched at the air and convulsed as blood haemorrhaged through her mouth. Silence fell as she slipped below the surface.

She awoke, whole, uninjured, surrounded by pitch darkness. No smell, silence. No Tialand. No city. Her scream was absolute terror.

The temperature soared. The ground that appeared beneath her feet was molten metal. She leapt above the vast ocean of screaming people and cried with elation as soaring flight returned. Her body hovered in the space above the writhing mass for a single, agonising moment, and then she fell again. Fear broke from within the fabric that held her together. As if in slow motion, she watched as her toes brushed the glowing floor. She ran and slipped, knocked a burning woman over who fell next to her and wailed as she watched her flaming arm sink into the metal inch by inch. Pain beyond experience overwhelmed her senses. She whipped out her arm, the skin was gone below her elbow, the remains of her hand quivered, fingers blackened, bone, aflame. She slumped forward, screaming silenced as she slipped below the gently rippling surface.

Awoke. In the darkness, she bawled until hoarse.

She tore at her hair, pulled it out in chunks.

Clawed at her skin, her finger nails scraping until nails chipped on bone.

The metal floor appeared. Scrambling. On top of. As many beings as she could grab, fighting to stay afloat, screaming. Mind gone as she slipped below the surface.

She awoke and landed on the metal floor, awoke and landed on the metal floor, awoke floor awoke floor awoke.

Many thousands of years later, it stopped.

She was naked, curled in a ball, shivering uncontrollably.

People ran about her, jostling, jumped over her, moaning, stood on her, kicked her, roaring, from room to room, she was on her feet, instinct, pushed her to run, just to run, run, shrieking, her skin blistered, hair caught fire, an exit, there had to be a way out, the building roasted, a sledge hammer swung, from the ceiling, slammed into her stomach, she flew through the blazing, hot air, and landed, on the scorching floor, no screaming, only retching, in the burning, she forced herself, onto hands, and knees, a coat of molten metal, was placed over her, screams ceased, she slumped to the floor, people ran, frantic, roaring, roaring, wailing, from room to room, hair caught fire, as, frenzied, she banged on a windowless wall, hands broken, turned, to see a hammer, swing, from the ceiling, and slam, into a man’s head, an exit, way out, now, coat, molten metal, placed over her, howling, slumped to the floor, finger nails scratching, down a wall, people ran, roaring, burning, exit, exit, exit, exit, exit. Many millions of years later, it stopped.

She lay face down on a frozen, smooth mirrored surface, unable to move, for an invisible force held her securely in place. A tall, broad featureless figure made of rippling, nebulous black shadow approached her from above. Tendrils of darkness caressed her bare skin, trails of ice formed in their wake. The being’s heavy clopping ceased, a cloak of darkness that stank of rotting fish enveloped her and indistinct, multilayered whispering penetrated her, taunting her. An incorporeal hoof rested in the small of her back, weight was forced upon her, as she was sliced vertically from neck to tailbone. Then diagonally from each shoulder to the opposite buttock; then across her shoulders, legs then arms. In moments, she was crisscrossed and bleeding profusely. Neat rows of beings appeared to her left and right, ahead and behind, above and below her, all were being carved open by the tormentor with its myriad of indistinct arms. Her eyes rolled upward and she vomited blood as her body became whole again. Sound no longer escaped her lips as she was sliced apart, made whole, sliced apart, made whole, sliced apart. A trillion years later, it stopped.

Michael, George and Marissa were bathed in gentle, spring sunshine. They stood on top of a lush, green hill, jumping up and down, calling her name, waving to her, laughing happily. She stood at its base, a hint of the cool breeze above played on her face and tickled her nostrils. Tears fell freely as she cried with joy at the sight of her beautiful lovers. All of this vile terror would be a dreamlike memory she could banish to nothingness the instant she wrapped herself in their love and warmth.

The coals beneath her feet blazed.

Not caring, she ran up the hill with all her might.

The smell of roasting flesh filled her flaming nostrils. Her feet cooked.

She stumbled and fell; her hands sank beneath the glowing, crackling surface. She pulled them out, hands were gone, bloody stumps burned, she stood and ran on ankles, tears evaporated. Somehow, she made it to the top of the barren, burning hill. Where were her darlings? Giant snarling, scaly monsters, with acidic drool dripping generously from their blackened, six inch fangs, pounced on her and tore her to pieces. Michael, George and Marissa stood on top of a hill, calling her. She was at its base.

Flames blazed in the space normally reserved for cloud. She fell from the raging sky and landed on a rocky, red hot mountain side. There was no vegetation of any kind and not a trace of moisture. Each snatched breath scorched the back of her throat. She spun around on bare heels, scattering baking stones. She was alone. She was never alone. Fear mushroomed exponentially as her heart sprinted.

Where were the others?

The rippling black shadow?

Incorporeal hoofs?

She turned, those her monsters had eaten closed in, crouching low, snarling like rabid dogs, turned, Tialanders she’d played with hissed, drool dripping from their open mouths, turned, those from the Eighth Bridge spoke rapidly, a jumble of discordant words pitching high and low, turned, two busloads stood in front of her, statue-like, all eyes to the sky, grins fixed wide, turned, the woman who pushed past her held a kitchen knife, turned, the gossiping girls, shiny, bright cleavers, Nick, a glowing hatchet, Miranda, a fiery sword, Craig, a wailing chainsaw, turned, turned, turned and howled as she fell.

They took their time dismembering her.

Flames blazed in the space normally reserved for cloud. She fell from the sky and landed on a rocky, red hot mountain side. There was a shimmering in the near distance; it was not so far that she couldn’t walk. It was a heavenly ice blue, soothing, rippling joy; she hadn’t been able to find cool, refreshing water in a millennia. She forced herself to her unsteady feet and jerked her head up and down, to the sides, behind, no-one emerged to attack or steal the precious nectar pooled just ahead of her. She sprinted anyway, closing in on the liquid life.

Ahead of her was a field of dew laden green grass. Where was the pool of water? It didn’t matter. She laughed with glee. There was water on grass. She could roll in it. Revel in it. She ran joyously onto the field. Each one of the slim green blades was a burning sliver of glass. She was lacerated every time she lowered a foot, but forced herself on; her face wet with tears, for there was a cool, shady forest just ahead of her, a few small steps was all that was needed. Out of breath, her feet shredded, in excruciating pain, she leant against a tree trunk. It was made of white hot iron. Her hand was vaporised. A searing wind picked up, the autumn leaves fell from the glowing branches, ripping her body apart. She fell to her knees and looked up. There was a cool shimmering, off in the far distance. It was a divine ice blue. A divine ice blue.

She landed on an ice shelf, naked, enveloped by a raging, freezing blizzard. Her eyes would not focus, she didn’t need vision, for she sensed the suffering of the countless surrounding her. She managed to raise herself up and stand hunched, as her body was battered. Her joints seized. Ice formed over her mouth, her nose and her eyes. She froze solid. The screaming wind tipped her over and she shattered into a million glittering, tinkling pieces. She landed on an ice shelf, naked, enveloped by a blizzard.

She could taste wood though she had no tongue. She could hear a low drone though she had no ears. She desperately tried to take form though it was impossible. She was pitch-darkness. An explosion tore through her as a door was slammed. She screamed though she had no vocal chords. Her breathing raced though she could not feel lungs expanding and contracting. Another booming roar tore into her as the door was slammed again and again, her cells lit with agony.

The hammer connected with the anvil. She burned as the red hot metal blazed into her formless back. Deafened as the clang, clang, clang of metal connecting with metal ripped through her. The anvil was struck over and over.

She was roasted as the jet engine fired up.

She was smothered as she was sucked through the sewer.

She was trapped in a rock, frozen in ice, boiled, beaten and burnt.

It all stopped.

An aeon had passed.

Raging red and black storm clouds flew overhead at a fearful pace. Tia Green stood up straight, her arms were loose by her sides, as she looked up at the leaden sky. An unnerving sensation coolly washed through her from her crown to the soles of her feet. It was a feeling she vaguely recognised from a deep and distant memory, though she was not really sure the impression belonged to her. She hunted her for a word, something to describe it, to give life to the strangeness that lit her. And then it became obvious: it was ‘ease’ that had settled. The cloud began to clear, to rush off into the distance and dissolve.

She looked up into a crystal clear, blue morning sky, stood in a field of soft, damp green grass, as an array of colourful birds began to sing joyous songs. She took in a long breath, her lungs filled with fresh, spring-like air; it was as though she had never experienced oxygen before. There was a light breeze that played on the skin, and a bright, comforting sun that bathed her in soothing golden light.

There was no pain.

She looked down at herself and the thin, full length white gown that clothed her. She was barefoot. The field of grass was visible through her feet. She turned and twisted her translucent hand through the air. There was no panic, for it seemed quite natural.

She pulled a few strands of straight, brown hair before her eyes, ran hands over her full frame, then over her thin lips and undefined cheek bones. Another long forgotten sensation entered her mind: relief.

She closed her eyes and listened. Her thoughts and emotions were quiet, still, a perfect flat calm. It was bliss to be pervaded by such pure, unabashed contentment. It was as if she had stumbled upon the most precious gift the universe had to offer.

She opened her eyes. Stood before her was blonde, lithe, green eyed Tia. The seductive, pretty woman was a motionless mannequin clothed in a long white gown. She slowly circled herself and lightly ran fingers through her fine hair. If it hadn’t been attached to her sensuous figure and its slim proportions, her immaculate hair might as well be just a mass of yellow spaghetti. She looked into her shining eyes. Would her flawless face be so attractive without her lush lips, her high cheek bones, sharp green eyes and freckles? When the elements came together in a pleasant and acceptable fashion, they formed this woman. And when they dispersed?

Svelte Tia aged fifty years in seconds. From the peak of physical perfection, she became a stooped, wrinkled old lady whose dry skin hung from brittle bones. As she died and crumbled to dust, a gurgling baby appeared at her feet, struggling in the grass. The child grew into an awkward girl, a confident woman at the height of her powers, then old and dead.

Her fame came and went. Her riches were built up and scattered. Her desire and anger flared, and just as quickly, like waves upon a stormy ocean, the emotions subsided.

She could not bear to sink below the surface again. Her smile was faint, she was cleansed and grateful, and now, she had to let her go.

“Goodbye, my sweet,” she said, her words were kind and without sadness.

She kissed her softly on the cheek, turned around, and walked away across the damp, manicured grass that tickled her feet and played between her toes. It was a wonderful, unrivalled luxury to feel such softness beneath her feet. She could walk on it for weeks and not tire of it, alive and thankful for its serene touch.

There was a broad oak tree ahead of her. It was an ancient, great grandfather with a steadfast trunk and long branches that cast a tall and wide canopy of rich leaves. She stood before it, humbled by its grandeur, and let her focus soften and rest on a single leaf and the droplet of clear water that lay motionless at its centre. She looked closely at the thin, elegant branch it had sprung from. Her brow creased, as she realised that without the branch the leaf could not exist.

She stood back, puzzled, and looked at the tree trunk. Without the trunk the branches would have no support. She looked to the rich earth at the base of the tree, without the earth the tree would have nowhere for its roots to take hold. Without the soil from below, the refreshing rain from above and the heat and light of the glowing sun from afar, the tree would not receive the nourishment it needed to stay alive. Without space, the tiny earth, its home star, and the myriad of glittering galaxies and glorious nebulas, would have no place to exist; the universe would have no canvas. And without her mind supported by her body, she would not see the tree.

She smiled warmly and walked to an expansive river, drawn to the placid flow of the majestic body of wide water. By her feet was a small, round, flat stone. She picked it up and gently threw it. It skimmed across the surface once, twice, three times and then sank. Ripples emanated outwards.

Pure, naked horror pulsed through her being from her heart outward. She fell to her knees, and as her tears flowed and splashed freely in the water, her body shook uncontrollably and she roared in pain. She gripped her wet face, unable to control the howling anguish, nor wishing even to try.

She had toyed with and gunned down the woman who had pushed passed her. Tia instantly became the woman, and lived her ordeal through her eyes, absorbed the pain as she felt it tear into her, not once, but over and over. She became Michael and felt the overwhelming fear that raced through his veins before being shot, again and again. She became Nick, was consumed by anguish, then shot over and over, then lived as Craig, then Miranda, then as every single one of the Tialanders she had abused, as every person she had massacred in the city, she experienced again and again every micro second of terrifying suffering she had unleashed.

Remorse overtook her.

Grief consumed her.

And she begged forgiveness.

A further aeon passed, as she sat by the bank of the river and filled it with tears day and night.

Then, one day, she fell back on her heels, her arms hung loose, her hands lay in the grass, her palms faced the sky. She swore never to hurt another being, no matter what happened to her and no matter what others said or did to her.

She opened her eyes and looked to the sky.

“May I die so they may not suffer.”

Tia dissolved.

She took no form for there was no longer a need. Thought and emotion were no longer necessary. She was simply aware. Cool and warm, resting in light, pure joy, enveloped by love, emanating love, naturally, without effort. She was wisdom itself, everywhere and nowhere, beyond time and existence.

Yet, she still knew of suffering.

She stood on a deserted, rain soaked footpath and looked to her left and right. The road ahead was near her flat, it was the one that led to the train station. In the middle of it was a woman who was howling with laugher. A moment later, she slumped to the ground, curled up into a tight ball and sobbed.

Overwhelming compassion flowed for her, and as she saw herself slowly sit up, she found her mind to be still, as though she were a blank sheet of paper, the future suddenly open to endless possibility.

As she watched herself begin to stand, a car raced around the corner.

“No,” she shouted.

Tia was killed instantly.

She sprinted out into the road as the car skidded to a stop, its breaks screeching. She fell to her knees by herself, her arms and legs were splayed, her eyes wide open and glassy, and blood pooled generously in the road from the back of her head.

“I didn’t see her,” the driver yelled at his passenger, as he rushed toward the dead body.

“How many times have I told you to slow down?” the passenger screamed.

“Just call an ambulance, will you,” the driver shouted.

She forced herself to her feet and stood in the hammering rain in the middle of the street. The driver, passenger and car dissolved. There was no-one around, there was no wind and no sound. The rain stopped. The sun came out. The birds began to sing.

A shadow rose up, stood out of the dead body and formed into a woman wearing business clothes who bolted for the footpath, her cheeks glowed red, her head hung low. As she trudged toward the train station, she discreetly followed and listened to her teeth as they chattered and her feet as they squelched.

She had the freedom to create and do whatever she pleased, the freedom to return and remain in all pervasive peace, and the freedom to let herself continue alone on the journey to work. Considered reflection was not needed, for abandonment was not possible. She stepped forward and became one with herself.

Tia walked into the train station’s coffee shop.

~

Six

Mountains

A woman roughly pushed past her.

“Sorry,” Tia said, quietly.

The rage surged white hot from deep within her belly. It would be a delicious pleasure to let it surge up through her and explode, to roll in the naked rawness of its bewitching energy, to get tangled in its power, to see it joyously manifest as swear words hurled at the rude old bat, to push her, to gag her, to … she closed her eyes. In her mind’s eye, two paths were clear and open before her.

Yes, she had pushed past her, and yes it was insulting. But then, she was sure the woman suffered just as she did, and, there was no doubt her tears were as salty as hers. No, desire to hurt her was gone. The crashing intoxicating wave began to subside as the wind eased.

She looked over her glasses thick steamed up lenses, and without a trace of anger in her mind, she willed the woman to one side, for she had to know.

“Erm, now, let me see. What do I want?” The woman stood before the coffee shop assistant. She did not move. How interesting. “Hmm, yes, I’ll have a skinny cappuccino.”

Wheel squeal heralded the arrival of the train. Surely luck only superpowers could manufacture would allow her to catch it. Besides, she’d rather not try and run for it for she was looking forward to a nice cup of coffee first. Ah well, she’d buy her latte and get to work eventually.

The doors slid closed with a resounding thud just as Tia was about to jump on the packed, graffiti-ridden train. As it pulled away, she caught sight of the woman who had pushed past her, stood by the door, sipping her cappuccino. Good for her.

Fifteen minutes later, and five minutes late, another train arrived. The train doors slid open with a pained screech and a dozen sullen faces glanced wearily at her. A couple of boys listened to mp3 players, workmen in their t-shirts and jeans sat on tool boxes, while sharply suited men and women stared blankly at the carriage’s grubby, wet floor, masterfully avoiding each other’s glances. She smiled at them, it did not matter that those who looked her way did not return the gesture.

The doors slid closed and trapped her raincoat. She stood still and chose to leave it. When the doors opened at the next station, then she could set it free. She closed her eyes and breathed slowly and deeply. It would be nice to smell something other than dozens of sweaty bodies hunched tightly together in a humid carriage. Her thought, however, was not followed by a fresh smell of mint.

The train slowed to a stop.

“Sorry for the delay,” the driver said, “this is due to …”

The stillness of the train was a pleasant exterior image, a counterpoise to her mind’s quietness.

It was twenty-five minutes past nine. She shook her umbrella, nothing too vigorous, just a little shake to get rid of the excess water, and then pulled open the door. Her glasses promptly steamed up as she stepped into the overheated office. Over the tops of the lenses she could make out a blurry image of Nick striding purposefully toward her, staring at his wrist.

“I’ll talk to you later, Tia,” Nick said, as he breezed by.

“Of course, whenever you’re ready,” she replied, quietly, her heart suddenly pounding. Turning her head, she glimpsed him looking back at her, his face set in a stern frown that seemed quizzical.

She shook her head, her cheeks burning as she threw the umbrella to the floor. That bloody man could still draw her in. He knew exactly which buttons to push and how hard to push them. She clenched her fist, wishing she could just march over to his desk and punch him in the jaw, kick him in the shins, better yet, publicly humiliate him, and have him run through the office naked slapping his hairy … she took in a long, slow breath. Nick’s behaviour was a problem, no doubt; however, so was her reaction to him.

“You know, I think it might be time for a sea change,” she said, taking off her coat.

“I’ve often wondered what it would be like to just say a few words and have the whole world understand you.”

“I’m sorry.” She smiled. “I was just thinking aloud.”

She looked down at the lovely Michael sat smiling warmly and sighed. It was good to see that gorgeous smile and cute face, to recall the hungry demon she had unleashed between her sheets. In fact, seeing him sat there like that, all rugged and sultry, made her want to reacquaint herself with his … she lowered her head and, to be absolutely sure, closed her eyes tight. In the fabric of her being, she knew Michael was unaware of the wild madness that had led to two vast aeons of atonement; for him, today was yesterday, and all that had ever passed between them were smiles and casual conversation.

Despite her embarrassment, she raised her head and looked him in the eye. He was perhaps the kindest man she knew. His wife must be proud.

She sank into her chair and pushed her computer’s power button.

“Yes, is that the I.T. helpdesk?” Tia asked, cradling the slim phone against her shoulder. “I can’t get into my email account … I’m sorry, I’m not sure, all I can tell you is that it won’t open … No, I’m afraid don’t know.” Double click on this. “Yes.” Double click on that. “Still nothing, I’m afraid. Reboot? Sure, no problem.”

As another file was dropped in her overflowing in-tray, she put down the phone and shrugged. Ah well, she’d get to them eventually. Perhaps eventually might be a bit longer than she anticipated, as water rapidly spread across her desk from the spilled plastic cup, soaking into paper as it went. Oops.

“So -” She jolted and spilled water on the floor. “- why were you late?”

Tia closed her eyes softly, without cringing, as adrenaline pumped through her. She held herself still, quietly poised without fright or compulsion. Nick had no idea what he was doing, how much he hurt people with the fear he aroused in them. The warmest compassion for him welled within her.

“Well?” he asked.

“I’m sorry, I missed my train.” Her response was unenforced, measured and calm.

“With this much work to do you will make an effort to be in on time. Your appraisal is due tomorrow and I’ll be the one writing it.”

“Yes, I know.”

Nick looked back into the corridor, and then stepped into the kitchen until they were toe to toe. His face softened.

“You know, it’s not me, it’s the pressure Rita puts on me.”

She nodded her head as she backed into the kitchen counter. He ran his hand slowly over her arm.

“I want to give you a great appraisal.”

Tia raised her head and locked her eyes unblinkingly onto his. She had to say it and not for her own sake. “Nick, if you touch me, or anyone else in this office ever again, I will ensure Rita knows of your exact criteria for a great appraisal.”

He stepped back and tripped on his heels, his eyes were wide, his mouth open. “You wouldn’t dare, you’re a mouse.”

She was not angry at him, there was only love. “All right, as you please, let us both go and see Rita, you and I, right now.”

He raised a shaking hand. “No, no, it’s all right.” He promptly turned. “I’ll give you a decent appraisal and a raise if you like.”

“Nick -” He turned back to her. “- be careful, please.”

Nick’s face softened, as, what looked to be, a flash of terror crossed his eyes.

“Oh, yes, I know,” Marie said, to Tia’s right. “I said to her, Liz, I’ve told you a dozen times he wouldn’t like it, you flirt like that and he’ll get mad with …”

“I know, I know,” Julie interrupted, stood next to Marie. “She’d drunk a bottle of that cheap red by the time she got to Steve, and of course he loved it, dirty old …”

“Don’t get me started on Steve,” Anna said. “Last year at the Christmas party, he was so drunk and all over me like rash. I mean, really, he’s no George Christian …”

Tia sat down. Their conversation was irritating, like mosquitoes constantly nipping at her, on and on and on. How could they go on with the same inane chatter all day long, their minds locked into a repetitive … why should she be annoyed? What would it achieve? If she looked at it from a selfish angle, the aggravation it caused would only upset her.

She gracefully entered from stage left. The audience were on their feet rapt with delirious abandon. Tia wore a fitted, designer silk blouse; tight blue jeans and brown leather cowboy boots. As she approached the beaming host’s sofa, she tossed her hair, threw a smile and gave the empty rows of seats a little wave. The spotlights faded out, the sound dropped to silence and she was stood on an empty stage. Her imaginary life dissolved back into her mind.

The equation crystallised into clarity and simplicity: she could not and would not allow herself to succumb again. It was too dangerous, for herself and every single person around her. It was time for something radical, something new, or perhaps, something that had always been there but she had yet to rediscover. Her heart beat faster, her path was wide open. But what should she do with such possibility? Then, she saw it in her mind’s eye. A twinkling in the distance, like sunlight reflected off a mirror. Oh, now that was perfect.

She turned to Michael and grinned, her eyes alight. “I need to tell you something.”

“Oh, yes,” he replied, smiling. “Is it gossip?”

“Not yet.”

He leant in close to her. “Well, come on then, what is it?”

“I am going to stand up from this chair,” she whispered and stood. “I am now going to walk into Rita’s office, and then, I am going to resign.”

He sat back and laughed, slapping his thigh. It took only a moment for his amusement to subside and the frown to set in.

“You’re being serious,” he said, his eyes wide.

She sniggered. “Watch this.”

Rita sat back into her chair, as Tia looked into her boss’ still eyes.“I can’t say I’m too surprised,” she said, quietly. “It’s been clear to me you’ve been unhappy for quite some time.”

“It’s not the job,” Tia said, as she swung her gaze down to her hands resting in her lap. Now that she had taken the plunge, she felt bad about letting Rita down. “It’s … it’s just me. I need to be elsewhere.”

Rita nodded, smiling. “I understand.”

Did she really?

“In many ways, I envy you.”

“Oh?”

“It’s a brave person that just ups and leaves.”

She looked back up to Rita’s kind eyes. “You could do it.”

“Yes, I suppose I could. Perhaps in the next round.” She laughed. “I’ll miss you. You’ve been good to this firm. Are you leaving immediately?”

“I just need to let my landlord know, pack a couple of things, and then …” She thumbed to the door.

“Do you know where you’re going to go?”

She smiled. “Yes.”

As Tia cleared her desk, the gossiping girls stood, staring, silent.

“So soon?” Michael said. “Not even one day’s notice.”

“Not even,” she replied, as she handed him an overflowing box of stationary. With a smile, she surveyed her empty drawers. “Well, that’s it, I’m ready to go.”

“And now?”

“And now, I’m going home to catch my boyfriend in bed with my best friend.” She grinned. “Poor lad, he’s in for such a shock. Mind you, so is she.”

“I dare not ask.” Michael laughed.

She looked into Michael’s lovely eyes, so warm and gentle. “Be good to your wife and your child, whatever it may be, and may they be good to you.”

He nodded. “Be happy and well, my dear.”

“Goodbye.” She kissed his cheek, stood, and left the office without looking back.

She shook her umbrella and stepped into her building, took off her sodden shoes and sat on a dry step. Perhaps it would be best to wait for them to finish. It was going to be hard enough for all of them without her adding to it by sensationally bursting in on them mid flow. It was bad enough last time. Come to think of it, she smiled wickedly, it would be a little bit fun to see their faces go from high to horror in a beat. No, that would not be the thing to do. No matter what Craig and Miranda were doing to her, she could not do it to them. Pain was pain.

Actually, as she thought of how often the sun had risen and set since she had met Craig, she should expect … no, she should demand loyalty. And as for Miranda, the slut should know better than to jeopardise a childhood friendship. She closed her eyes tightly as a lump formed in the back of her throat. They were treating her like dirt, using her, trampling all over her. She might not be the best looking woman on the planet, nor the most intelligent, but what they were doing to her was disgusting. It was wrong. She deserved better.

The door to her flat creaked open and Tia stood.

Miranda stepped out into the corridor, turned and tenderly kissed Craig, her arms around his neck, a hand caressing his hair. “I’ll come see you again about one tomorrow, I’ll bring some more iced voddy.” When she turned and saw Tia sat on the step by the door, her face flushed white.

“What is it, honey?” Craig said, and looked into the corridor. “Oh, my God.”

She saw Miranda’s hands start to shake, as Craig’s eyes widened.

Tia’s stomach clenched tight, as she fought the near overwhelming desire to retch. For all the stillness she had managed to maintain throughout the day, seeing them in each other’s arms broke the spell. She had expected to see just this, but still, the sight was a kick in the teeth. They had used her. It was no mistake. Her body was numb.

She dropped her bag, her shoes and umbrella, and forced herself to stand, though desperate to run.

“Tia,” Craig said.

“Sweetie,” Miranda called.

How long had they been mauling each other? She clung to the door handle, her knuckles white, her breathing raced, their words stabbed at her like white hot knives as rage boiled inside her. She wanted to push Miranda into a corner, to yell at her, slap her around, rip at her clothes and call her a liar, a filthy dirt bag. She wanted Craig on his knees, begging for pity, as she jabbed fingers in his eyes and squeezed his crotch. She … she … she had suffered for an eternity for such actions. She felt as though she would suffer again for simply thinking such thoughts. Breathing slowly, her heart began to calm, her blood began to cool. What would be the point in allowing her anger to come to the boil? One day she would be dead.

She turned and opened her eyes. Her mind was not entirely still, but it was getting there, she could probably manage. She smiled; it was a genuine smile, a kind smile. Beneath the hurt, there was overwhelming love for them both. How could there not be?

Miranda and Craig looked at each other, frowning, breathing hard. Perhaps they were expecting her to explode.

“I’m leaving the city,” she said, quietly, her hands held before her.

“Oh,” Miranda replied, her face set, her eyes locked wide.

“A holiday might be good for you,” Craig said, his voice breaking.

“I’m not coming back.”

Miranda and Craig looked at each other.

“Sweetie, I’m sorry,” Miranda said, offering Tia her hand. “I … I didn’t mean to hurt you, but no, please, don’t go.”

“Tia, this is silly, don’t leave because of us,” Craig said. “Surely, we can work something out.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I’m leaving tonight.”

“Honey, let’s talk about this,” Miranda said. “You have your job to consider, you have responsibilities and you can’t just walk away.”

She smiled. “Yes, I can.”

“Where will you go?” Craig asked.

She looked at the tiled floor. “Please, I think it best that you both leave now. My landlord will be stopping by shortly. I have to pack or I’ll miss my flight.”

“Your flight?”

Craig heaved a large black bin bag filled with his clothes over his shoulder, and as he left with a glace over his shoulder, Tia smiled kindly at him and then gently pushed her front door closed.

She looked over the tiny flat. It wouldn’t take long to be ready, for she didn’t own many things. As she stood, mentally noting all she needed to accomplish before her landlord arrived, a sense of gratefulness formed, for even though she had lived under the same roof for three years, there was no trace of attachment to the place in her heart.

Once the bathroom had been thoroughly cleaned from ceiling to floor, she moved to the kitchen. The washing up was quickly followed by a clear out and a clean up the fridge and the freezer. After the kitchen had been washed down and the floor mopped, the vacuuming followed the dusting which still left plenty of time to get to the charity shop. Two large empty bags were soon filled with all that was not essential to tomorrow. All that remained was her rucksack, purse and some durable clothes. The clothes were packed into the deep rucksack and she would draw her remaining cash from the bank on the way to the airport.

She took one last look around what used to be her flat, pulled the door closed and dropped the keys into her landlord’s palm.

“Thanks,” she said.

A couple of young men in football shirts laughed over steaming coffee. A trio of older women in business suits argued ferociously over tall glasses of cold beer. A child stood silently by his mother, clinging to her hand. A well groomed man wandered between the bustle chattering to no-one in particular, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. Tia sat still in the open plan lounge waiting for the call for her flight, her hands rested in her lap; her ticket and passport were tucked in her jacket pocket.

Ahead of her, beyond the thick glass, many coloured aeroplanes took off and landed in a near seamless stream. In her mind’s eye, like a rock around which the river of her consciousness flowed, her destination was clear. She had no map, she had seen no photograph, yet, she knew exactly where it was and how she would get there.

She stepped out the airport and took in a lungful of cool, fresh air. The first rays of clear morning light were breaking on the cloudless horizon. Seven days, four cabs, two trains and several busses later, she reached the base of the soaring mountains. Beneath her tightly laced boots was the last foot of grassy flatland. Ahead of her were the winding paths that led deep into the elegant range.

She turned from the mountains, back to the small cluster of stone houses a short distance away. The welcoming villagers had not been at all surprised to see her, for apparently she was not the first to pass through their streets before taking to the steep slopes. They promised her it would take no more than five or six days to reach her destination and blessed her with provisions aplenty for her trek.

Tia turned away from the village and started to walk.

Once her body was warmed up and her rhythm smooth and even, she pushed herself hard yet steadily, her eye on the detail of each step she took but with her gaze held long toward the objective. Her feet were soon aching and blistered; she ignored the pain and walked.

In her mind at the end of each punishing day lay a conviction that she could walk no further. She gladly collapsed beneath a single tree that always seemed to be waiting for her as the sun dipped below a peak. And after a good, long foot massage, she laid out beneath the blanket of stars, delighted by the soft, summer breeze that drifted over her. As darkness fell and exhaustion overcame her senses, she fell into sound sleep. In her dreams, the clarity of her destination became increasingly sharp with each night that passed.

Each day, she promptly woke at dawn as the sun broke over the mountain tops. She ate lightly, careful to ration her supplies. If her journey lasted a day longer than she had planned, she was sure she would be in trouble. It was odd then that the quantity of food in her rucksack did not diminish as quickly as she had anticipated. She drank sparingly, worried for water more than food, yet, her water canteens did not empty at anywhere near the pace she would have expected.

Each morning, as soon as she had finished eating, she packed her things and cleared the site she had camped on, took in a deep breath, and walked. Steadily, she rose higher and higher into the range.

At the end of day five, she took in a lungful of the sweetest air she had ever breathed, and strode out onto a vast, lush plain of bright green grass filled with beds of wild spring flowers that burst with vibrant colour and delightful fragrances. Bees, bugs, butterflies and insects buzzed and flapped about the open petals, dancing in the nectar. A kindle of kittens rolled playfully between the beds watched over by elder cats sedately sat on the sidelines. Dogs bounded across the field, chasing each other, their wet tongues hanging loose in the wind. In the distance, she was sure she could make out horses and antelopes, panthers and elephants, donkeys and pandas, all wandering along, side by side, dignified, beneath a sky teeming with parrots, finches, falcons, owls, birds large and small, squawking and chirping.

The enormous range rose again at the end of the plain. She squinted, for the sun was ahead of her and the rock face in shadow. Between what appeared to be two cascading waterfalls was a glinting on the rock face, a shimmering, perhaps possibly even a white light emanating from the rock itself. Tia smiled.

She dipped her hand into the cool pool of crystal clear water formed by the waterfalls at the base of the mountain. It was not as cold as she expected water to be at this altitude, but then, as she surveyed the multitude of fish and animal life about her, not much about this place corresponded with expectation.

The glittering pure light on the rock face was now before her. The shafts of brilliance were neither a part of the rock nor were they separate from it, it was as though solidity had dissolved and only light remained. The animals turned to her and became quiet. The winged life settled and watched. The breeze ceased to blow.

She turned back to the still plain; she could so easily stay and be content in the sumptuousness of the display. It was there for her, enticing her, teasing and willing her to remain. She turned back to the light and squinted. It was too much for her to take in, how was she expected to even begin to understand? The light burned, it was sending her blind, she was sure of it. What had she been thinking, she’d come all this way for this? A nice field with pretty flowers, along with a bunch of animals and a blinding white light? She slumped to her knees and her eyes began to well.

Before despair could flood through her, she forced herself to sit up, just one last time, and opened her heavy eyelids. Through her tears, she found she could see beyond the light, through it, as though she was looking into and beyond the rock face. She wiped her eyes dry. Were there buildings in there? White walls and white sloping roofs perhaps, in the mountain, beyond it, elsewhere? There were dozens of them in fact; some clustered tightly together, one above the other, some many feet apart, a three dimensional labyrinth.

She stood, the tendril of hesitation dissolved, and she stepped through.

~

Love, peace, light and power exuded from them.

The transcendent ones were waiting for her.

She fell to her knees before them and, with tears freely falling, begged for instruction.

Without the need for words, it was explained that if she wished to succeed, the cultivation of boundless generosity and the most determined discipline, patience and diligence would be needed for all her days.

Her heart broke with contented bliss as she gladly accepted.

Days soon turned to weeks, the weeks became months, and slowly, the years were decades. The elderly died and sometimes the young did too, and many, many more came to them from over the mountains burdened with fantastic tales, seeking understanding, solace and teaching.

In her final years, and following six decades of often gruelling study and application, she attained the highest levels of wisdom and realisation.

One glorious spring morning, as the cool mist cleared and the sun rose into a still, clear blue sky, a shaft of pure light appeared above her bed, and Tia Green quietly died.

Her body was transformed into radiant light.

And for just a moment, peace and tranquillity entered the minds of every living being on earth.

~

~

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