Dominant Bather

DOMINANT BATHER


He stands, staring down into the clear pool seeing reflections of others. Others that he has known and some he only wished he had known. His thoughts are not the clear thoughts of a man in true consideration of events gone by, but a cyclone of pictures like the vision one is said to have before dying. He is not dying, he is very much alive and in complete control. His heart beats at a rhythm he is himself imposing. As the rhythm increases so does the cyclone of thought. What is seen doesn’t matter anymore as long as the rhythm is kept. His eyes are now clenched shut; grinding teeth, clear pearls sliding down his brow, breathing stops. The redwood of his body stands on stretched legs. At this point if his head were slashed off his body would keep going on in the racecar rhythm it is enthralled in. The beating of his heart is immeasurable. STOP! White light, cool breezes of thin air, soundless, noiseless, odorless, and numb he floats. He inhales and his life continues. He stares into the pool with disgust. There are no reflections only the cloudy pool. Heart slows senses come back. He walks out into the world satisfied and confident, snide grin and flushed cheeks. The world is his.