An open field with a few trees. The trees are beginning to change color. The bright greens of summer are turning to pale yellows. It’s the dark time just before dawn. The sky is huge and open. The field extends forever. There is no one there. The swirling grass is the only movement visible.
An empty town. Old newspapers and various pieces of garbage swirl with the wind. The town was probably busy 30 years ago, but the children have since grown up and the older patrons have died or moved. A lone dog sleeps in one of the alleys. It’s early morning. The buildings are old and tired looking with cracks and peeling paper. The buildings recall better days.
Mackinac Island—the water, trees, Victorian houses, running with my Dad. The mornings are a struggle to survive the hour run and blissfully peaceful when an hour of work is rewarded by coffee up on the balcony overlooking the island. The air smells like summer and the sun’s rays bounce off of the water, further illuminating the trees and the houses. The town is small and quaint in the morning before the tourist swarm. There’s a nice feel of community as everyone stumbles out to begin the day’s work of cleaning the streets, making coffee, baking cinnamon rolls, and making fudge. There’s a faint smell of horses that is actually comforting because no other place in the world quite resembles this warm, Michigan smell.
When I need an escape, I go to the road on Mackinac Island. The sky is huge and the road goes on forever that hints at possibilities. And I’m running. I can feel the power and pace of my legs and I feel alive, never tired. I just keep running. Sometimes my dad is there, sometimes my sister. And we’re not running from anything but just running because we can. It’s morning where the sky is a pale, bright blue and the sun is just hanging in the horizon. The water sparkles and dancing on the right and on the left of the road are the greenest trees full of birds bursting with song. The smell of cedar and Michigan grass combined with the water vibrants in the air. The weather is cool enough to be comfortable, but warm enough that running in shorts and a t-shirt is comfortable. Sometimes there’s music—often something written by Thomas Newman…
Monterey Bay—a small town that survives on tourists and rich summer-time patrons. Although there’s a hint of cheese, it has its own quarky charm. Seating on the water, it watches over the harbor where harbor seals and sealions sing out. Rocks line the coast—there’s only small patches of sandy beach—but the rocks are perfect for climbing and exploring. The waves make beautiful patterns as they brush up against the rocks. A windy trail follows the shoreline and around the houses. Artists pull out easels, people walk every type of dog imaginable, bikers ride in large packs, and runners plod along trying not to trip on the uneven pavement. The hills climb up and down creating a beautiful landscape that hides everything from one point of view and then displays the entire coast once a hill is breached. The air smells like the salt water and there is a cool-sometimes harshly cold-breeze that whips your hair.
Archetypal Characters
Page of Swords—He is young, arrogant, and brave. His bravery comes from his limited view of the world-he’s not experienced enough to be paranoid or fear anything. His confidence is both a virtue and a fault: although people are drawn to his personality at first, they are also repulsed by it because of his vanity. He does not hide who he is. He’ll try anything. He’s the one jumping from cliffs for the thrill of it. He’ll walk right up to the largest man and insult him if he deems it necessary. He speaks his mind, but he probably should have a filter because people usually don’t care for his opinion which is so limited. He is only truly happy in a crowd of people and if not enough people are noticing him, he’ll do something rash to be noticed. He’s the loudest one talking in the market, and he stands taller than his 5 feet, 9 inches. Girls flock to him until he starts talking and doesn’t stop about all the wonderful things he’s going to accomplish someday. He has yet to prove himself, but he wants to.
The Tower: He died. 10 years of medical school for what? A brilliant brain surgeon, climbing to the top (he was just out of med school), starting a beautiful family (a daughter and a son) with the right woman, and then cancer. 2 years, maybe 3 of knowing there is no hope. He made movies where he talks to his kids, telling them how much he loves them—they won’t remember much of him—they’re only 5 and 3 years old. Then he dies. Just like that. Suffering, affliction, disaster…it makes you question your own life. He told my dad, if I had known I was going to have cancer at 30, I would never have gone to med school. His undergrad degree was English. Maybe he wanted to be a writer too or explore Africa, maybe make it to space someday—who knows. An incredibly brilliant person, just…gone. He leaves his friends and family wondering why.
The Hierophant: She is always there. She helps me with the problems that need more than just a bandaid or a cup of tea. When my confidence is failing, when I don’t know how to talk to my teachers about an assignment, or when I’m wondering who I am, she is there to reassure me that it’s going to be all right and that I do have the tools to figure it out. She doesn’t give answers, but reassures you that you’ve always had them. She never doubts you the way you doubt yourself. Most importantly is that she just listens. She listens to everyone. That is perhaps why she has a difficult time dealing with her own problems because she is so busy taking care of everyone else.
The Page (P) and the Tower (T) are stranded in Southern Florida. Both of their cars broke down late at night. A wicked rainstorm made driving difficult and steering impossible. The Page rear-ended the Tower and now they find themselves alone. The rain has ended, but it’s pitch black darkness aside from the light of their cell phones and wrecked cars glowing feebly.
T: What were you thinking! You were going way too fast!
P: You were going too slow! I was keeping up with traffic, ok? Besides your car is barely scratched.
T: Ha! Scratched! You have no idea what this is going to cost! You were going way too fast.
P: I can handle a car.
T: Like hell you can, you just crashed into me! And now we’re stranded in the middle of no where!
P: I have a cell phone, old man. I’ll just call for help.
T: That may be difficult considering there’s no cell coverage here, smart one.
P: What?
Another car comes over the horizon. It’s the first car seen in hours. T and P are still stranded out in the night.
P: A car! We can ask for help!
T: Don’t ask random cars for help at 3 in the morning! Are you insane?
P: Oh, come on. I’m not afraid.
T: You should be.
New car pulls over.
H: Are you guys ok?
P: Can we have a ride?
T: (to P) Are you insane!? You can’t ask a stranger for a ride!
P: (to T, smirking) I just did.
H: I’d be happy to take you guys to my place to use the phone. There’s no cell coverage in this area.
P: Isn’t that weird?! We’re completely alone! Nobody even knows I’m here, I’ve got to call a friend to pick me up. This guy is even worse off! He lives alone!
T (aside): Oh my god. He’s going to get us killed or worse…
H: Haha, sure climb in.
P doesn’t hesitate, T does.
T: I think I’m fine, thanks. All-star just kicked in.
H: Oh, it’s no trouble, hop in. My house is just up the road.
T(aside): There aren’t towns around here for miles! (to H) No thanks, and P, I think you’d better stay with me.
P: No way, dude, I gotta get to a phone.
H: I have food, too. And you can stay the night. You must be tired.
T: No, P, really, I think you should stay. There’s, um, insurance stuff to take care of and, um, what about your car?
P: That things wrecked. No one will take it. I’ll come back for it in the morning. I’m beat.
H (in a serious tone): Get in the car.
T: P, come on man, get out of the car NOW.
H takes off with P in it. T is left on the road trying to figure out what to do.
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