THE POOL
You have a pool.
It is filled with clear sparkling water.
Flowers grow round its edges.
Birds sing overhead.
Insects hum happily around.
Butterflies rest on the flowers.
Children splash gleefully in the shallows.
Weary travellers quench their thirst with the refreshing water.
Strangers stop here to rest awhile.
Ducks glide serenely across the surface.
Your pool is open to all.
A narrow deep channel carries crystal clear water to your pool.
The channel is constantly filled from a great reservoir in the mountains.
The pool overflows with life giving water making the grass around it rich and green.
Small dunes of soft grass and flowers surround your pool.
The valley between the mountains holds many pools.
You visit pools like your own close to you.
You welcome everyone to your pool joyfully.
One day a stranger comes.
He is different to the people you are used to.
This stranger does not approach your pool.
His hair is the color of the setting sun.
He wears a shimmering metal suit by Paco Rabanne.
He looks distainfully at your mounds of rich, green grass surrounding your pool.
He tells you of the elegant marble terraces surrounding his pool.
He tells you of his parties with his sophisticated friends.
You feel confused and embarrassed.
He invites you to visit him.
You accept eagerly.
You are excited at the prospect of seeing new things.
You visit.
There is not a pool to see.
Only terraces of marble.
Only stunning altars of silver and gold.
Their beauty takes your breath away.
How drab is your own compared to this.
Suddenly your goal is clear.
You plant a hedge round your pool to keep away strangers.
You begin building your marble terraces.
You fashion imposing altars of silver and gold.
You lay floors of polished granite.
Occasionally the realization hits you that you can no longer see your pool.
You brush the thought aside.
You are now visited by your new glittering friends.
You host parties to entertain them.
You enjoy their envy of your latest acquisation.
You attend their parties.
You laugh.
You are now one of their beautiful circle.
You wear expensive silks.
Your nails are painted in the style of the day.
Your hair and skin is dusted with fragrant powder.
Your make-up is exquisite.
Your day is a maelstrom of excitement and distraction.
One day an old man appears in the distance.
He is the type you studiously avoid.
He is not of your circle.
He comes closer.
You try to turn away.
You are frozen with fear.
He comes closer still.
His face is lined and weather-beaten.
His hair is grey and straggley.
His hands are sinuewy and calloused.
He wears a ragged hessian garment.
His feet are bare.
Fear grips your heart.
Your mouth is dry.
You try to look away.
You feel his piercing eyes fixed upon you.
You try to walk away but your legs feel like lead.
Suddenly he is upon you.
A vice like hand reaches for your arm.
You wince as the soft powdered flesh of your arm is crushed in his powerful grip.
In a state of terror you look into his gleaming eyes.
He speaks.
There is a strange timbre in his voice.
His voice is demanding.
Yet his voice is soft.
Show me your pool.
Your mouth opens but you have no words to answer with.
He speaks again.
This time his voice is loud and contains a terrible urgency.
Show me your pool!
You look round frantically.
You see only crystal tiles.
You see only marble altars.
You see only exotic ornaments.
You see only the rare artefacts which impress your sophisticated circle.
He speaks again.
In a voice of thunder.
Show me your pool!
You raise a trembling arm.
You point with a shaking finger at a golden ediface.
You know it is behind there.
Show me! The voice is demanding again.
This time he frees your arm from his vice like grip.
You stagger forward.
Looking desperately for a way past the facade of altars.
You pick up a small gold statue.
You bring it down with what force you can muster.
The white marble corner of a altar breaks off.
It clatters onto the polished granite floor.
It takes you by surprise.
You expected it to be more resistant.
You hear an intake of breath.
You look over your shoulder.
A glittering friend stands at the entrance to your terraces.
He is horrified at your action.
He rushes quickly away.
You turn back.
You flail wildly at the gold and marble ediface.
Sweat cause rivulets on your powdered face.
The old man watches you dispassionately.
Your voice is hoarse and desperate.
It is no good; I cannot do it.
Go slowly.
The old mans voice sounds triumphant.
Look closely.
You look.
You see that you have made an opening.
You make it wider, confident now.
You squeeze behind the altar.
Your heart sinks.
You are pressed against an impenetrable thorny barrier.
You turn to the old man.
To-morrow I will begin to clear this hedge.
He gives you a withering look.
To-morrow is too late.
You have no more time.
A great wave of fear sweeps over you.
Involuntarily you shout out.
I must get to the pool.
Tentively you reach out and pull at a branch.
A thorn pierces the soft flesh of your hand.
You wince but you continue to pull small pieces away.
Gradually you make a space for yourself.
You feel you are getting somewhere.
Sweat and blood sticks your silk clothes to your body.
Your hands and arms are scratched and bloody.
Your silk coat is shredded by thorns.
Your knees and legs are pierced deeply by vicious thorns.
Your hair is tangled with twigs and thorns.
Your face and head are torn and matted with blood and sweat.
Your pain fires your resolve.
You must reach your pool.
You are no longer aware of the old man.
Is he still behind you?
Is he still waiting to view your pool?
Your compulsion to get to the pool makes his presence irrelevant.
Your progress through the thorny barrier has formed a tunnel through it.
You expect to see light as you approach nearer to the pool.
There is no light to be seen.
Everything is bathed in an eerie twlight gloom.
At last!
You push through the final bit of the hedge and come face to face with your pool.
In the semi-darkness the odour of decay is overpowering.
You squint your eyes.
Rotting animal corpses float in the putrid, stagnant water.
There is no life here.
No birds. No insects. No flowers.
A terrible emptiness fills your soul.
In your despair and horror you scream out.
My God! My God! What have I done?
In a hoarse and pitiful whisper you call out to the old man.
Help me.
But the old man has gone.
You are on your own.
Inspiration comes to you.
You must unblock the channel from the great reservoir.
Laboriously you work your way around the pool.
You clear the overgrown thorny hedge.
You reach the channel, now invisible beneath debris.
Using your bare hands you slowly clear the mud and rubbish from the channel.
Day after day you work on it.
Then suddenly one day a thin silver thread of clear water trickles down to the pool.
The silver thread winds its way across the surface of the pool.
You are estatic!
The thread increases in size and force.
The clear crystal water gushes into the pool.
With renewed vigour you set about clearing the area around the pool.
Gradually you see the birds and insects return.
You notice that most of marble altars and treasured artefacts are gone.
You smile as you see strangers carrying off things you once valued.
The fantastic terraces are gone.
None of your glittering circle come here anymore.
The impressive polished granite floor is mostly gone.
You no longer belong to their circle.
A few broken fragments remain.
You relish the lush green grass which has returned to the dunes.
You smile as you listen to sounds of splashing and laughter from the pool.
Strangers come here again to get refreshed.
The sick and the injured come here now and ask you to bless them.
You walk to the pool.
Your pool.
The surface is still and smooth to-day.
You kneel at the edge to get a drink of the cool water.
The pool is like a mirror and the reflection startles you.
Then you laugh.
The reflection you see is an old man.
With unkempt hair.
A weatherbeaten face.
And ragged clothes.
You stand up.
You know what to do.
You walk to the silver and golden terraces further down the valley.
People avoid your gaze.
They walk quickly away from you.
You stop at a particularly impessive set of terraces and altars.
You walk purposely across the diamond tiles.
The owner tries to turn away.
He tries not to look at you.
You see fear in his face.
You seize his arm in your powerful grip.
In a voice filled with compassion you say.
Show me your pool.
by Joseph Neeley