Obscure Felicity (eBook)
278 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
978-1-6678-1592-3 (ISBN)
When a young couple named Brenda and Vincent connect with the Universal Mind during a night in the desert, it changes their lives for the better. Brenda, an artist, becomes a master painter; Vincent, an engineer, produces breakthrough after breakthrough in optics. After inventing a pair of sunglasses intended to re-establish a connection to the Universal Mind using specific wavelengths of light, Vincent is killed in a freak accident. A bereft Brenda is left only with a pair of his sunglasses but learns how to use them to find Vincent's spirit and slowly begins to recover. She's devastated when the sunglasses are stolen. This begins an odyssey of personal improvement as the glasses pass through several hands, rectifying the lives of all but one of the holders, as Brenda experiences brief flashes of their lives. "e;Obscure Felicity"e; is a thoughtful, philosophical novel about what happens when individuals tap into the deep collective of human potential, and how it changes their lives for the better, opening up whole new worlds of creativity for them.
Prologue
“May I have a closer look at your tattoos? They’re fascinating,” Brenda asks with a smile. She hopes she’s not being too forward, but figures that given the way the young woman is dressed, plus the fact that she spent a fortune on her inked skin, she’ll be quite happy to allow a closer look.
The young woman brightens, and points to the intricate tangled vines interlaced with flowers circling her arm. “These I just had done a few months ago.”
“They’re magnificent, almost three-dimensional. How do you choose what to get tattooed and where? Does everything mean something?” Brenda asks, while continuing to closely look at each visible tattoo with an artist’s eye.
“Oh, it just comes to me, or they have this huge book that has every ink imaginable. It’s kind of addictive. When I’m feeling sad or need a change, I end up at Skin Deep getting needled with tears rolling down my face, and I love it. They’re really awesome about helping you figure out what would look good and where. Some places hurt more than others, but I feel like my body is becoming a work of art. I dream about tattoos, think about them all the time. I’m obsessed.”
“Quite impressive. The person who did these is a talented artist,” Brenda says as she starts to peruse the young woman’s tattoos to the point where the girl wants to pull away, feeling a little embarrassed to have a stranger touching and examining her so intimately. Brenda senses this and steps back, saying, “Sorry, got carried away. Just never really thought about tattoos as art like this before. Interesting. Well, thank you for the closer look.”
“No worries; glad you like them. My parents hate them, so it’s nice that someone older— not that you’re that old—likes them,” the girl smiles again, and turns to leave.
The barista and his coworker behind the counter share a covert glance and eye-roll knowingly. Brenda’s in the little coffee shop several times a week. They like her, most everyone likes her, but at times they find her somewhat eccentric. They can tell that she perceives things differently than most people, as though she knows something, sees something that they don’t. People find it strange when she gets that distant look in her eyes, knowing something they can’t imagine is going on inside her head. She’ll suddenly stop talking, cock her head as though listening for something, and then come back to herself with a strange expression on her face. It takes a few seconds, an almost indiscernible shake of her head, and she’s back as if there were no interlude, or fugue, or whatever it was.
They find her interesting; and the servers in the coffee shop, as well as the regular patrons, know a lot about Brenda’s life, as she’s a talker. They think she’s embellishing, or more like exaggerating, some of the time, and she often speaks at a level they don’t always understand. Some think she’s brilliant, and others find her too airy-fairy for their tastes. When she talks about her life, she gets carried away; they can’t help but wonder if maybe she’s leaving out a few even more unbelievable details of what happened. Brenda makes you want to know more, yet you’re not even sure what you should ask. She’s a mystery, not yet willing to divulge the real Brenda, only throwing out bits and pieces and leaving you wondering who she really is.
Maybe her stories are closely based on something that really did happen, but with some fantasy elements mixed in. Or maybe she just wants to keep you interested. What they don’t know is that on the days when Brenda doesn’t make her rounds to the coffee shop, she’s closed off in her studio painting like a madwoman, the inspiration pouring through her as if her creative genius has an abundance that she doesn’t know what to do with.
Today’s a good day, and she’s still feeling the aftereffects of a recent creative high— satisfied, peaceful, and reflective. She looks around the shop to see if there’s anyone else interesting she might strike up a conversation with. The bell above the door jingles, and a scraggly looking young man in a faded T-shirt and jeans comes in. He looks around after getting his coffee, and catches Brenda’s eye. She pats the seat next to her and says, “You can share my table if you want.”
He’s surprised by this, thinks about saying no thanks, shrugs, and comes over and sits down.
“Are you in school here?” she asks to break the silence.
“Yeah, one more year to go.”
“What’s your major?”
“I’m studying to be a geologist. I love the Earth; I’m really interested in the processes that shaped the Earth. Besides rocks and minerals there are earthquakes, volcanos, other things that can be studied to prepare people for natural disasters. There are many areas I can focus on, and I can be out in the field conducting research in some of the most geologically amazing places on the planet. I love that part.”
“Hmm, yes, that sounds wonderful; seems you’ve found your passion. Have you ever spent the night in the desert?” Brenda asks with a raised eyebrow.
“Uh, no. Can’t say that I have yet. But I’d definitely like to. I love the desert and what all its formations can tell us about the processes that shaped it, the beauty of what our planet is made of. How it’s changed throughout geological time.”
The young man goes on and on about rocks, earth, and minerals, but Brenda’s stopped listening. She’s no longer in the coffee shop; she’s looking up at the stars in the inky black sky of the desert, so abundant and close she can reach out and touch them. So close, she can feel them move with a sweep of her hand. So bright and full. The desert at night: stunning, terrifying, alive.
He stops talking and watches her for a few seconds, realizing she’s drifted off to another place only she can see. She looks past him to that faraway place, and as he looks at her, he gets an odd feeling he can’t identify that makes him squirm. He blinks and breaks the thing that’s pulling him in. He gets a slight sense of that fight-or-flight phenomenon, and his heart is racing. He feels like he was almost in the place she was for a few seconds.
Brenda shakes her head a little and asks slowly, “Have you ever had a memory so strong, so real, you see it in your mind exactly as it was, and feel it in your heart exactly as you felt?”
The young man’s eyes dart back and forth as he thinks about it, not knowing what to say.
“Yes, you should spend the night in the desert. It will show you everything’s different than what you think you know. It will take your soul, and will give it back to you fuller than it was. In the morning, the sun will send its wavelengths of light into your eyes and you’ll question what you saw, but know you’ve been changed.” Brenda sighs and leans back in her chair, suddenly feeling very tired.
The young man still doesn’t know what to think, and finally he says, “Okay, I’ll definitely spend the night in the desert, but you make it sound a little scary or something.”
“Not scary, just enlightening,” she says as she gets to her feet, shakes out her long skirt, and reaches down to pick up her well-worn red leather satchel. With a wave of her hand, she starts towards the door and says what she always says when she’s leaving, “See you soon, it’s been real.” They all laugh, but the young man still looks a little puzzled.
“Don’t forget your sunglasses, Brenda,” the barista calls to her. “If you keep leaving them here, I’m going to keep them.”
“Oh no, can’t forget them! These glasses are my new favorite pair, one of a kind—hand-painted the frames myself,” Brenda says as she puts them on.
“Well then, stop forgetting them. See these?” he asks as he picks up a pair behind the counter and puts them on. “Some guy left these a couple weeks ago and never came back for them. I feel kind of bad about it since they’re really good quality, but I’m going to keep them if he’s not back to claim them soon.”
Brenda looks back at the barista, then stills completely as she focuses on the sunglasses. Listening to the thumping of her heart, she has a very unsettling feeling come over her. She suddenly gets a vivid vision of Vincent with his eyes so clear, his smile so bright. She almost asks if she can have a closer look at the glasses, but something tells her to leave well enough alone. Nah, it can’t be, she thinks as she shakes her head, it just can’t be.
Instead, she asks, “Did I ever tell you about my Vincent and the designer sunglasses we used to make?” The coworkers nod, even though they don’t really recall much about the sunglasses. Looking away, they both pretend they have cups to wash, coffee to make. They’ve had enough conversation with Brenda for one day, knowing there will be many more to come.
After the door closes behind her, the young man looks up and says to no one in particular, “Wow, that was interesting. Do you know her? Who is she?”
The barista looks up and thinks for a few seconds before answering. “That’s Brenda. She’s our...
| Erscheint lt. Verlag | 21.1.2022 |
|---|---|
| Sprache | englisch |
| Themenwelt | Literatur ► Fantasy / Science Fiction ► Fantasy |
| ISBN-10 | 1-6678-1592-X / 166781592X |
| ISBN-13 | 978-1-6678-1592-3 / 9781667815923 |
| Haben Sie eine Frage zum Produkt? |
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