disappeared, perhaps even the same day. Somehow I acquired clothes and soon after, I started walking. No direction, just away. It took me over six months to get back home - traveling proved to be very difficult without any kind of ID or money. I survived with the help of strangers, mostly hitchhiking truck drivers and sneaking across borders like so many illegal’s before me. I even joined a circus for a while. I shoveled shit and cleaned anything from caravans to cages. They never asked anything and I never told them anything. In the end it was them who helped me in the final stages of reaching my home.
My home ... as if it was still there.
I spent the first couple of months in 1991 living as a homeless man, sleeping in shelters, back alleys and parks. The home I knew was no longer there, and every part of my old life - my previous world - had changed, yet stayed the same. It took me a while to get accustomed to the ‘new ways’ and rules; and I would soon find myself looking for my family, not knowing what to say when/if we met.
On March 3rd, I spotted my father - I barely recognized him, he was in his early sixties now, his once black hair had turned grey and he began to resemble his father, my grandfather. I followed him around until he disappeared into the crowd of the subway station. I stayed in that location for another week or so, before he showed up again, and I continued to follow him until I found myself standing on the street where he now resided. After a couple of days of house surveillance, it was clear that he had remarried, the woman by his side looked about ten years younger, and they seemed happy together. More days passed, as I contemplated on approaching him, revealing my existence and hoping for - I don’t know - answers, perhaps. On this one particular day, a car drove up to the house and a child exited, followed by a man and woman in their thirties. They walked up to the door where they were greeted by my father and his wife. He had a new family now, one where there was no room for a long lost son. I went back to the homeless shelter and stayed there for the next couple of months - they proved to be the all time low point in my life. I discovered the fate of my mother was not as fortunate as that of my father, she had died in 1979 in a car accident. I did what most men do when they reach rock bottom - I started drinking heavily; but as it is and always has been, the alcohol never helps you to forget and I spiraled downwards into near oblivion.
Suicidal thoughts would return once again, this time more powerful and persistent, but I was eventually saved by a man who got me a job in some foreign company that needed manpower, basically doing anything they wanted, but mostly involving cleaning up. Later that year, I started working for a small fishing company, slowly learning everything about ships, fishing, ropes and seas; but I would remain on land until December 1992, when I got the opportunity to sail away for an indefinite amount of time.
Before I departed, I did something I am not proud of - I visited my father’s house once again (last time I ever saw him), waited until they left and I broke in, looking for old picture albums, trying to find one happy memory of a lost life. I came across a picture that brought tears to my eyes; it was the three of us, taken on the day we moved into our new home. My parents were glowing with joy because they were finally able to afford a house, and not have to live in a tiny apartment anymore.
I acquired a new passport and went on to become a fisherman - a position that would last for seven years. During that time I sailed mostly in the north waters, changing ship and captain from time to time. And yet, there is nothing to be learned from my years away from modern world. Tales of my voyages are of no importance - everything that I found fascinating and new, would now seem common and outdated. I only found solitude and detachment, ever more so when we arrived to a port, where I would have to spend days or weeks between jobs. I felt alienated from people, sometimes going as far as pretending to be a mute, or not speaking the language.
It wasn’t until the arrival of a new millennium, that I would finally understand how long has it actually been since I left everything behind, including myself. A quarter of a century had passed and to me, it seemed like a moment, if that.
I was 30 years old when I walked away from my second life.
After a month or so of roaming this land, I settled down in a quiet countryside town, staying with a lovely elderly lady and, in the next couple of years, becoming the only long-term resident in her house. I helped her with every day chores around the place, going to the market with her and other simple daily things I had forgotten existed. At first I did not intend to stay there for so long, and even left after a couple of months - going back to ‘the lake country’ in the summer of 2000. My curiosity got the best of me, and I decided to try it again. I was there on the same day, 25 years later; swimming to the island again, going underwater just as the noon bells would start, but nothing happened. There was no leap forward, no magic involved. Disappointed, I returned to my new home - or at least the closest thing to it. For a while I lived a “normal” life, ignoring everything that I have been through, focusing solely on the present and near future. But I have seen things, I have experienced things that cannot be forgotten, no matter how hard you may try.
I saved up quite some money from my seven-year-long fishing career, and I invested part of it into the house, much to the joy of my newly found grandmother, as I would jokingly call her. One of the additions was the introduction of a computer with internet access - a machine that was somewhat mysterious to use, but I would soon get a hang of it. The internet and its glory of being a world library full of knowledge, sent me on a path of searching and discovering legends and myths about fountains of youth and time travel. I must have read every possible page connected with my situation and experiences, but I have never found actual proof of someone succeeding at such a level as myself. I began spending hours upon hours reading about the lake and anything associated with it - and so I came across a Swiss man, who came here one hundred years before my time. He was a sick young man, who found the lake to have some sort of healing power that helped him regain his strength and health. The official story goes, that he fell in love with this part of the world, and stayed here for the next 50 years, running some kind of spa service; but digging a little deeper into texts and notes about the man and his life, I found obscure tales in connection with him believing in, and trying to find, ways to prolong life - through the fountain of youth. I think he was onto something, but I cannot be sure if he found it and/or used it in the same sense as me. Or should I say used by it, as I was.
As time went by, I became more and more obsessed with this lake, and more and more bored with this quiet country life. I would still do everything I have been doing, acting normal and being nice, but I noticed a slight shift in her attitude towards me, as if she was somewhat scared of me. It was in that time, that I decided, without any doubt, to go back - and try to go forward again.
I went through every bit of information I could find about the summer of ’75 - weather reports, local news, geological data ... everything and anything that could be useful. And I believe I have found my loop, my way back in. It is something I can’t be sure of, but I am willing to try.
At 33, I am leaving my third possible life behind me.
In the past two weeks, I have been preparing for my journey. I opened a bank account, arranged my travel route, prepared and packed some necessities, etc ... Yesterday I sat down with granny, I told her I will be going away for a while and may not return. I explained as much as I could, without sounding crazy. I apologized for my recent behavior; she hugged me and wished me luck.
The only piece left is to finish this letter, my story with an unknown ending, for those who may read it. I wish to tell you one thing - if you have a life worth living, then by all means, live it! I have been down in the abyss and from there, you can only look up. No matter how bad this life can get, and it can get very bad, it will forever be your life, meaning it is in your power to change it for the better. I encourage you not to follow my footsteps - do not walk in the trail of the unwilling time traveler, if you have even the s
lightest chance of a happier ending.
I have found the fountain of youth, but like everything in this life, it too comes with a price. May you see it as a gift or curse, may you find it or not; do not be fast at reaching your decision, for the price is high and you cannot go back.
11/07/03
DML
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AUTHOR’S NOTES
Another short story based on a dream I had back in November ’12 - about going for a swim and coming back to a completely different environment. When I decided to use the ‘youth fountain’ idea, I immediately thought of it as having two sides - you stay young, but you still lose the years that were given to you - if that makes any sense. Bonus points to anyone who knows where it’s taking place; if you’ve ever been there, you should recognize the picture.
One or two ‘Light & Darkness’ volumes coming up, and after that I will publish whichever story I finish by then.
You can find my other stuff here:
The Lake Page 2
