Spells of Dusk and Dawn , livre ebook

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343 pages

English

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Having fought to extricate himself from a devastating relationship with a charming but fickle woman, and desperate to reach a state of serenity, William leaves her to live alone in an old dilapidated house by the sea and devote himself to music and astronomy; but his distraught state of mind induces him to seek temporary relief and he meets Dorothy, a carefree and vigorous women, to whom he, in spite of his resolution, feels strongly attached. Fearing his loss of independence he tries to quench a wild fire with a circumscribed fire and seduces a compassionate but unsuspecting women whom he hopes can shelter him till his infatuation has subsided; however, after a while he nevertheless more or less unconsciously gives her a good reason for leaving him, and he has then no option but to confront Dorothy. Too indecisive to run away he fights his inclination, while she, being susceptible to his repressed feelings, which she has inspired, becomes eager and frustrated enough to take the initiative. As his feelings for her become manifested in action he has to accept them and this ignites an increasing interanimation which suggests a shared consciousness. And yet, his longing for serenity and her longing for absolute love are apparently incompatible and this insoluble conflict forces him to leave her, but while running away he feels the double bond between them strengthen to a point where he is pulled back to her and together they reach a state of reciprocal acceptance; and yet he suddenly leaves her for the freedom of the jungle though expecting her to join him shortly and thus get the best of both worlds; so the anagnA risis leaves him in similar though not identical situation as that from which he tried to escape a year ago. Character determines fate and an all-consuming love is not easily reconciled with the an urge for the numinous.

Informations

Publié par	Troubador Publishing Ltd
Date de parution	13 novembre 2021
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781803138206
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	1 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0300€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Copyright © 2021 Niels Hammer
www.artsandbiodiversity.eu

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

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A Yvonne

Contents
1.1
1.2
2.1
2.2
3.1
3.2
3.3
3.4
3.5
4.1
4.2
4.3
4.4
4.5
5.1
5.2
5.3
5.4
6.1
6.2
6.3
7.1
7.2
7.3
7.4
8.1
8.2
8.3
9.1
9.2
9.3
10.1
10.2
10.3
11.1
11.2
12.1
12.2
13.1
13.2
13.3
14.1
14.2
14.3
15.1
16.1
17.1
17.2
17.3
18.1
18.2
18.3
18.4
18.5
18.6
19.1
20.1
21.1
22.1
22.2
23.1
23.2
23.3
23.4
24.1
25.1
25.2
26.1
26.2
26.3
27.1
28.1
28.2

1.1
Greenish tussocks of grass and clusters of frail-leafed Oaks in sheltered gullies approached and disappeared in his bleak reference frame of glass and running water. The sweat felt sticky against his breathless skin – and weary of the habits of the human condition he wished that this journey in the gloom of the autumn afternoon would end before he became too weak to hide from the shadows of the past. Living had dwindled to convulsions between pits of apathy – and in the heavy drizzle the wizened fields and lichened cliffs continued to change – although they remained almost identical – to further the threat or to keep the promise of repetitive struggles between the tiresome goading of hope and the icy inertia of despair.
Cooling his brow on the window he closed his eyes and shuddered – absence of thoughts – brief respites – each chain of words was barbed by images. On the inside of his eyelids – the spidery incarnation of the scavenger – wrapt in dark-sliding clothes – fondled the legal briefs with dough-like fingertips. Waves of dis-ease surged up from the hollow of his stomach – but the windows to the world were stuck – yet the urge subsided slowly in his throat to reveal the blotchy cavern of the office where the correct and bony secretary shuffled the sheets of cellulose around on the surface polish and solicited him to sign. Regurgitating reluctantly to integrate the past he saw again the exegete of graceless deeds and heard the echo of his suave and empty voice as he promised to take care of the proceedings and offered his professional word of honour only to write in case of a disaster – while also discreetly emphasising the advantages his mercenary wheedling had accomplished – though only to let him share the slimy guilt. Complicity by association. But in spite of habits – fear and fardels he had persevered and thrown the moorings ashore to set sail again across the shoreless ocean – to leave the nether world of mundane busyness – as it flashed the tricks of its trade in the gaudy glare of commercial exchange for common salt-licks hedged its horizons and dry-rotting mould withered its senses – when aproned with stolen mahogany it munched the fine-printed tomes of the lore of vested interests to stuff its grizzly gizzards with yet more acquisitions – emitting puffs of irremeable decay as prognostications about the general catastrophe caused by commercial terrorism.
So this morning – after all the awkward delays – he had left the populated desert – the unreal hoarding of stones – the treasured haunt of the bellicose breed who manufactured grease and soot to befoul the starry Sky. He had felt lost among glib towers of business – among right angles and terribly straight lines. He had been oppressed by the stale air of long lonely rooms and enveloped in a dead taste of greyish metal. He had been marooned beneath roofs of anguish and wounded in acrid silence by imploring eyes or by faces gnawed by angry airs – but now came hours of sun and wind in peace among fair Brambles and friendly willows – alone παρὰ θῖνα πολυφλοίσβοιο θαλάσσης .
Huddling up in the corner of the seat – as if to brace himself against the coming ordeal – he thought about the five strangers whom he – at the instigation of the solicitor on behalf of the former owners – had agreed to entertain for a human while – though without being able to honour such obligations – but having been too scorched by the Sun and soaked by the rain he would have found it discourteous to refuse for they had trusted the next day’s weather knowing naught about his idiosyncrasies or dispositions – a part-time gardener – an elderly man who had tended orchards all his life – two enterprising younger women – a cook who came twice weekly and a competent housekeeper.
So he would gently – gently – have to encourage them to seek brighter opportunities elsewhere – and perhaps his sullen misanthropic moods would entice them to leave as soon as they could – though it would be absurd to form opinions or hope – however – women were still the lesser evil beneath the visiting Moon. Nevertheless – such an experiment could easily flounder – but as he knew nobody and nobody knew him he might find peace there for having at last left her alone music and starlight would shine as soft beacons from a cloister of independence. Yet another draught eased the strain of staying alive – so sitting back in a velvet burning haze he praised the healing spirit of variegated wounds by licking his lips. The bitter-sweet grapes were better than the long pipes which made him numb with commonplace sensations coated in the pink candyfloss of nausea.
Drifting around on the misty rocks outside he looked in to tease the cause from the effect or to gauge the difference between the origin and the result of ontological evolution while the Protean images of bygone memories mutated or dissolved in the shifting foci of his attention – though the bare outlines tended to remain constant.
Once upon a time he may have been impetuous – demanding an ideal – and if that had not been feasible – disdainful – despairing or even haughty – then only illusions – hollowed out by misery or masticated by disgust – had been left to stir. So stoic and trembling he clung to the wreck of the future while waiting for the terminal stillness with ambivalence – though also with a vague periconscious wish to escape the likely end. However – the universe had to be one single unified process and change determined time – so the rhythm of the wheels – jumping the small gaps between the rails – widened the space–time distance to the prolonged operation of having cut through his heartstrings to separate himself from the womanly woman with whom he had grown together through endless days of frost and brief nights of thaw. Their separation had gone against the grain and transgressed the laws of nature – and while the blood may have coagulated the scars were still too sore to be touched by straying thoughts – though in a little while the Sea – the Sky and the forest would soothe him in her absence – but only if blessed by the acute presence of oblivion.
A gradual slackening of the speed pushed his premonitions aside as the wheels ground the noise they made to milling splinters in his ears. Lifting his khamsīned eyelids he stared out – through melted sand – into the blinded darkness of the night. Still a smell of ashes hung in the used air of the cabin – for there was nothing that was not of his own doing – so donning his dark blue coat and scarf he took the suitcase and the canvas back with the lute – staggered out of the door and came to the end of the wagon just as the train stopped. Fumbling with the handle of the immobile door he fell forward as it swung open and saw – fuming in the night rain – a human being – looking up at him with coal-bright friendly eyes – a fellow mortal.
“Easy! Easy! Good evening. Now, let me?”
The elastic steps were softly trying to evade his probing feet. On legs of jelly – into the welcoming sea wind – he stumbled through space and time – needled by grimy light from shabby lamps. Only the will to do or die was left.
“Thank you, indeed, the weather here, is this your cab?”
“Sure it is, an’ has been, better than eleven years ago now, but do you have any other luggage?”
Standing beside this dapper little man – who seemed so neat – so full of energy – like a sprightly Dormouse – he sensed his innate acceptance of himself and of the world in his brisk and quick demeanour. Black-shining drops ran down from the eaves of the sou’wester that sheltered him in a smooth and seaworthy skin. Genuinely altruistic – the storm – to blow into his face – the rain – to wash his crowded thoughts away. This salt and wrack-scented air was cold but the burning increased – in the puddles his shoes had become wet – in the gusts he sucked the air out of the water. A looming silhouette – in the yellow yawning of the wagon – gesticulated impatiently but the words from his lips were caught by a squall before they reached his ears.
“There are only three suitcases