Chapter Text
Reality is often incomparable to a dream – one of many fleeting thoughts that passed Kenneth’s mind and left shortly after. But the thought was perfectly true. This campsite - chosen by his wife, Julia, was nothing short of a dream. The way the morning sun shone its rays through the trees and illuminated everything and everyone in gold, one could easily mistake it for mere fantasy. His daughter – Erica, the tent, the clouds, the breeze, the birds, the flora, the fauna, everything seemed as though it were tailor-made for him and humanity.
And yet, Kenneth was as awake as he ever was. He sat outside the modest tent, and gazed at the rest of the campsite, behind him he heard Julia and Erica’s soft snores, in front were scatters of people, all with a pleased and carefree demeanour, going about their morning routines, preparing to seize whatever plans (or not) they had for the day.
At this moment, Kenneth knew he couldn’t bear to experience this alone, so he reached for the tent’s two occupants, and gave them a little shake.
“Hey sleepyheads, it’s already 7am, time to get up,”
“Hmmm okay… but only if you make me a cup of tea first,” came a groggy reply, his wife’s.
Kenneth started the gas burner and waited for a ring of blue flames to appear. Once they revealed themselves, he put a pan over the stove and added some water. The little blue flames danced underneath, working in unison to bring the water to the boil. Their teamwork succeeded greatly as after a few minutes the water was bubbling and ready. He finished preparing the teas, not forgetting the teaspoon of honey in Julia’s, just how she liked it.
“Julie, tea’s ready,”
“Please don’t call me that,” yawned Julia as she crawled out of her cocoon of a sleeping bag and out into the open air.
“I know, I just needed to get your attention,”
“Okay, Kenny, I guess it worked…Wow,” Julia suddenly grew silent when she took notice of her surroundings. “Did you transport us into one of your paintings or something?”
Kenneth blushed, as he did whenever anyone implicitly complimented his works, “Umm… Maybe,” he stuttered, as the two sat beside each other and gazed into the summer morning.
“Yeah,” Julia spoke softly, “I guess you did.”
“Guess who finally decided to wake up!” Kenneth said mockingly to Erica as she waddled out the tent, stuffed rabbit held against her chest.
“Hngh, it’s not my fault Hopflop was being extra fluffy last night, and so I couldn’t stop cuddling her!” she moaned. “Mummy, are you having tea? I wanna try some!”
“You’re too young, you’ll burn your tongue!” Julia said, in her usual stern-yet-soft tone.
“Pleeease! Just one sip!”
“Wait until you’re a bit older,”
“But I will never get older!”
Kenneth watched his family’s “argument” and chuckled in endearment. Trivial tribulations and menial menaces like Erica were the perfect compliment to a place and time like this.
And somehow, I’m not dreaming, Kenneth thought.
“A mission?”
“Yep, we’re gonna go on a mission,” Kenneth announced passionately, child self running scot free. “There’s a lake, about a mile away from this camp, and we’re gonna go there to find the rare lilies of the lake!”
“Lilies of the lake?”
“Mhm, legend has it that whoever puts a lily of the lake in their hair will receive good luck, so long as the flower is in their hair.”
“Wow! Let’s go!” To which Erica immediately began trotting the wrong way in her red wellington boots.
Julia turned to Kenneth. “Damn Ken, you’re good at improvising,”
“It’s just my creative skills,” Kenneth explained smugly. “And also, I just really want to see Erica with a flower in her hair.”
The path to the lake was far from ragged: a well-trodden, cleanly procured dirt track that led downwards into a river valley blanketed by woodland lay in front of the family as they made their way towards the lake. Kenneth trotted ahead, his homemade picnic wobbling in his backpack. He hummed an arbitrary melody, harmonising with the songbirds that tweeted above. Behind him, Erica dawdled in her blue wellies, the four year old held a small bunch of wildflowers in her right hand, and offered them to any butterflies that passed in the summer air. Her left hand was latched with Julia’s, who stabilised her as they travelled down the rickety steps. The morning gold had dissipated and instead the woods were greeted by pure light: the kind that promoted the lush greens of the grass and leaves and put depth into the roughness of the bark.
Beyond them, Kenneth saw silver shimmer in the light and knew they were near.
“I can see it!” shouted Erica from behind, she let go of her mother’s grasp and bolted down towards the lake.
“Wait Erica! Don’t trip!” Julia called, and she too rushed after her daughter, leaving Kenneth behind. The father stood in at the end of the steps, and once again chuckled in endearment.
Perhaps sometimes Julia is a little overbearing, he thought, but it sure does make a hilarious spectacle.
Just then there was a chorus of giggles, all coming from one familiar girl’s mouth. Erica kneeled beside the lake, with a long stick, and probed against a cluster of large lily pads that drifted on the surface. With some precision, she got hold of one of the pads and pulled it towards her. Clumsily, she reached forward and pulled something small and pale yellow out from the “island”. Kenneth glared in joy as his daughter examined the small object, smiled, laughed, and jumped up and down as she ran to see him. Her outstretched palm held a small flower, yellow on the inside but fading to white on the outside, with petals that seemed sharp like spikes but were as delicate as can be.
“Look daddy! I found the lilies of the lake!”
“All done, it’s perfect!” remarked Kenneth, somewhat unintentionally as he drew his hands from his daughter’s hair. Erica, with a white and yellow flower tucked under a silver hair clip, resting atop a sea of brunette hair. Kenneth stared at his daughter as if she was another one of his art-pieces; this his magnum opus – four years in the making and still long unfinished.
Kenneth took out his camera. “Say cheese!” he cheered; on instinct, Erica threw herself into awkward (but endearing) poses, all to show off her new accessory, gifted (perhaps stolen) from nature herself. Kenneth, an avid photographer almost as much as a painter, snapped five, ten, twenty or so photos of his daughter – perhaps to fully prove her existence? Or perhaps to remind him of the good days when the bad ones inevitably come.
“Alright, that’s probably enough,” interrupted Julia, “you don’t want to use up the camera’s storage, do you?”
“True true, we’ve still got four days of this trip after all,” replied Kenneth, who sat back against a mossy tree root and let himself soak into the world. Here Kenneth proclaimed himself luckiest man alive – to be here with the two people he loved most, and to be part of a world so beautifully flawed; Erica’s waterlily will die soon, dehydrated from its departure from home; at this moment Julia was staving off a wasp that, like her, thought the honey sandwiches smelled absolutely delightful. A world that doesn’t accommodate people, thought Kenneth, is fine, because this world doesn’t accommodate anything . Forms of life only try to co-exist, and often they fail, but sometimes they succeed! Kenneth peered over the grass and ahead was a sparrow, eating an earthworm to live, a worm that could only live because of the dead tree leaves on the ground, a tree that only grew so tall because it was lucky. Lucky enough to be planted somewhere with space and sunlight and without disease. That’s it! Realised Kenneth, Life survives by clinging onto the thin tendrils of a force named Chance, with no reason but with the mere will to exist.
“Jurōjin…” muttered Kenneth, suddenly remembering the name, “…Thank you, that’s all I need and wish to say. Now, I want a honey sandwich.”
The family slowly ate away at their picnic, and the morning ebbed away at them; the day only becoming brighter as the sun moved to its prime location in the sky. The lake retained its opalescent hues whilst it imitated the secluded woodland in reverse. That woodland – tall and temperate, the deciduous trees danced gently in the summer breeze. Erica had her plastic magnifying glass out, and inspected a particularly intriguing rock, which, when she overturned, found a long centipede crawling underneath.
“Aaah!” she shouted upon seeing it before slowly turning back the rock. Both Kenneth and Julia tried (but failed) to hold in their laughter.
After the centipede catastrophe, Erica went off to play elsewhere in the lake’s underbrushy border. Julia made sure to keep the four year old in her sight before she relaxed and turned to her husband. The couple made eye contact and shared a solemn smile.
“Thanks, for finding this place, it’s just the scenery I need,” she told Kenneth.
“Hmm? What do you mean by ‘need’? And honestly, I should be thanking you for choosing this location to camp,” he replied.
“Well, you know how it is, work’s fun, especially these past few years since I came off maternity leave, but at the same time, being stuck in a city office full time? Of course I’d want- no, need a getaway! Don’t we all?”
“Yeah of course, I’d be the same if I worked in your job, (though we both know I wouldn’t last a week there)” Kenneth chuckled at his own footnote. “But for me, well, I haven’t told you what I plan to be my next collection right?”
“No you haven’t,”
“Well, I want to paint something all natural, lots of greens and blues and whites, large, expansive landscapes, and with free flowing shapes with no semblance of geometry. Perhaps a little abstract I suppose.” Kenneth exited his vesper and turned anticipatingly to Julia, wanting to hear her reaction.
“Ah,” she smiled introspectively, “so, basically it’s going to be the complete opposite to your Lim-”
“I thought we agreed to not talk about that period!” Kenneth interrupted, suddenly a little angry and a little distressed.
“I know I know! But… It’s hard to not mention it when it’s what you’re most known for, a debut collection being auctioned for six-figures is a big deal you know!”
“Sometimes I wish it hadn’t,” Kenneth muttered under his breath.
“Ken…” Julia pleaded, “You’ve lived a hard life, but the worst of it is over now. You’ve fought your battle and now it’s your time to return home. That period… Consider it a last hurrah for the bad times – it was a final attack, but you pulled through for you may have light hands, but you’ve a strong heart. And don’t forget that I, the woman you always claim to be ‘the best thing that ever happened,’ met you during that period. I saw it, starting in the middle, and all the way to auction day. Anyone can tell that you’ve been doing so much better since then, it’s been over three years since you last went to therapy.”
Kenneth sighed, “Yeah, I guess you’re right… But also, using your point; because the Liminal Period is over, I don’t really want to talk about it. You know I’m not the kind of person to dwell on the past, especially since my past is one of misery, tears and beer. I just want to look forward to the future without those times haunting me from behind.”
“But your new collection… it’s clearly a response to those times…”
“True, but I suppose it means I’m recovering… Perhaps, subconsciously, I’ve always been doing what you just said – accepting that the past happened. But I guess, I’m trying to… undo the past? Which is silly, so yes, moving forward I ought to accept that the Liminal Period happened, celebrate the good that came from it, and learn from the bad.”
Julia gave him a solemn nod of approval.
“It’ll be a long process though, I guess you can call this my Post-Liminal Period,”
“That name checks out,”
“Yeah! And the way I’ll start it will be with this natural collection, I suppose this can symbolise… repression?”
“That sounds about right,” Julia smiled and shrugged, “at least now you know what you’re doing with this collection, you’re aware of the subconscious reason for its creation, and that’s what’s important.”
Their meaningful conversation came to a halt when Erica came with two more waxy waterlilies.
“Okay! Here’s one for dad, and here’s one for mum!” She gave her parents their respective flowers. The two adults decided to silently agree to leave Erica in bliss that she was slowly killing the ecosystem by picking so many flowers.
Better not waste this thought Kenneth. “Hey Erica,” he said, “would you like to put this in my hair?” Immediately Erica shouted affirmations before snatching back the waterlily and running behind Kenneth. The father felt a hand harshly tug on his ponytail as Erica tried to lodge the flower into the hairband, but her fingerwork wasn’t nearly nimble enough to pull off the manoeuvre. Kenneth tried not to vocalise the pain on his scalp, but ultimately requested that Julia place the flower instead.
“Aww… Next time I’ll be good enough!” grumbled the four year old.
“You’ll have plenty of time to improve your dexterity, I’m sure in twelve or so years you may even have fingers as good as your father!” After Julia said this, Kenneth glared smugly at her, and she realised her accidental double entendre. Lightheartedly, Julia whacked Kenneth with an empty sandwich box; all the while the pair laughed uncontrollably. Being only four, Erica obviously had no idea why they were laughing, but nonetheless, she joined in on the Kenneth-beating ceremony and giggled along.
“Oh god… Aaahaha! Stop,” laughed Kenneth, haphazardly defending himself. “This is unjust, it was Julia who said it!” He cried, defending his honour.
“But you didn’t need to make it weird! What are you, thirteen?” She defended her honour before pushing Kenneth and herself to the ground. The couple lay side by side on the detritus, panting.
“Truce?” asked Julia.
“Truce.” And like all enemies at war, the husband and wife shared a kiss – humble yet loving and comforta-
“Eww, gross!” interrupted Erica mockingly.
As the two adults lay on the detritus, and their daughter stood over them (asserting her dominance), suddenly the world darkened: The clouds blocked out the sunlight, an unwanted shield. The lush hues that pure light was able to exemplify were lost, and instead came darkness – the universe’s natural light – bringing forth desaturated colours, like the paintings of the sombre artist. When sunlight goes, so does heat, and the summer warmth was swept away by billows of wind. Bringing a pseudo-boreal microclimate with it – a taster of autumn. Kenneth sat up and gazed at the greyed out sky. Ah, of course, all good things come to an end eventually .
“This reminds me, apparently the autumn equinox is coming earlier this year,” He sighed.
“What’s e-qui-knocks?” asked Erica, testing the new word.
“To put it simply, it’s the day where summer ends and autumn begins, we’re getting a slightly shorter summer this year.”
“Nooo! I don’t want summer to end! This was the best one yet!” Erica moaned.
“True, but there’s lots of brightsides to autumn as well,” assured Kenneth.
“Like?”
“Well, I remember when you were three you loved to jump in piles of leaves, also, autumn is the season of Halloween, I think this year you’ll be old enough to take on trick-or-treating!”
“What’s trick-or-treating?”
“I don’t know if you remember last year when people came to our house, but it’s where you dress up as something scary, knock on people’s doors and shout ‘trick or treat!’, then they give you lots of sweets!”
Erica’s eyes lit up at the final word, “Sweets‽”
“Yeah!”
“That sounds fun!”
“Mhm, and another thing, don’t forget that this September you’re gonna be starting primary school,”
“Oh yeah of course! I can’t wait to be a big girl!”
Kenneth spoke words of joy among the gusts of wind, and brought a summer back into Erica’s mind and heart. Autumn, one of the liminal seasons – and a season for the people while nature takes a well earned rest.
“But most importantly, autumn represents a change. A change that everyone experiences, a change that we all first tolerate, but then anticipate and ultimately embrace. In your life, Erica, I can guarantee you that there’ll be countless changes, some you’ll experience alongside other people, but with others you’ll be on your own. Imagine yourself in a river, flowing along with its course. Now imagine the sights you see along the river banks, these are the things in your life, your home, the people at nursery, all of it. Some come and go, some run along with you for a short while, and some will jump into the river and float alongside you – like us! But this river is Chance, you can’t control the speed of the flow, you can’t control which way it twists and turns, you can’t control if the river decides to throw in a challenge for you. Sometimes, at a branch, you can make an active choice where to go, but that’s about it. But where you do have a choice, is where you look, do you look to the north of the river, or south? If you’re in a city, do you look to the tops of skyscrapers, or to the cars on the roads? When you’re older, you’ll learn a lot more about this river, and the sights around it, but for now, take my advice and float.”
During Kenneth’s speech, Erica had her eyes secured shut, lost in the riverine world, imagining herself floating. Eyes open, and she was still floating.
“Wow, don’t you think that was a lot for a four year old to take in?” whispered Julia into Kenneth’s ear.
“I suppose, but it’s important that she learns young, after all, it took me over thirty years to learn it myself.”
As if on cue, the clouds parted, and the forest was reunited with summer, pure light, and a gentle warmth in the temperate air. But… Bad things come to an end as well, like negative feedback loops; Kenneth continued his earlier train of thought as he once again gazed into the sky. The sun was a phoenix, and this new bout of summer was its next life – It felt that way too, though the trees, the river and the fauna were all in the same form, they too seemed different, perhaps new. New and beautiful, a second form of perfection – the kind where one didn’t know it was perfect until it was lost.
“Well look at that, seems like summer wasn’t ready to leave us just yet,” said Julia, satisfied. “So, we’ve finished our picnic, where will our adventure take us next? Mr. Cicerone.”
Kenneth chuckled at the nickname, “Well, everyone got a bit of room left? I say that we go get ice cream, there was a van at the campsite.”
“Yeah! I vote ice cream,”
“Sure, I hope they have salted caramel flavour,”
“Mmm, that’s a good choice, let’s go!” And Kenneth led the way back toward the campsite.
Once again, Kenneth trotted ahead, a now empty picnic on his back, the songbirds that left during the sun’s break had now returned, and once again the father harmonised with their melodies. Erica dawdled behind with her, now slightly brown, blue wellies, she stroked the water lily in her hair, being careful not to break it for once. Her right hand was latched with Julia’s left, who deliberately took the stairs slowly, as to prolong her basking of the environs. Towards the top of the rickety stairwell, Kenneth stepped onto the final step and diverted his attention to the path that lay ahead.
A fatal mistake.
He didn’t see the tree root that jutted out of the ground after the last step. His left foot caught on it, and without time to react he was already toppling. Kenneth gave a yelp of surprise and outstretched his arms to brace the impact on the sandy path.
No one would’ve expected the impact to never arrive.
No one would’ve expected him to fall through the ground.