Starry Eyed

"Antarctica is the most remote continent on the planet. It has 90% of the world's ice, but it's considered a desert, because the annual rainfall is only about eight inches. You wouldn't think it was a desert when you looked at it. That's why I like it. It's not what it looks like."

Sam Gardner in Atypical, S1E1--Antarctica

On the lakeside, past the woods, stood a man by a fire.

From the woods came a boy, who took a handful of dirt and patted it on his clothes before approaching the man to ask for a coin.

The man stood by the fire, poking it with a stick, with his back to the boy.

"What brings a boy such as you this late at night by the lakeside?"

The boy stopped on his tracks, wondering if he had made any noise at all.

"I need a coin to hitch a ride down my home, sir."

"Nobody gives you a ride for a coin in this world." The man poked the fire once more, and pulled the stick out and pointed it at a log in from of the fire. "Sit, and tell me what you truly want."

The boy sat on the log, and looked at the man standing in front of him. The man leaned on his walking stick, which he kept using to poke the fire, and continued looking at the boy waiting for an answer.

"I want to be rich," said the boy.

"How will a coin make you rich?" "I'll keep asking for coin until I am."

The man laughed, pulled a burning log out of the fire and threw it into the center of the lake.

"Go fetch that log and sell it for coin and you'll be rich until the end." The boy remained seated and stared at the man, perplexed by the idea of selling a wet, burned log for coin.

"Go! It will give you fortune," the man assured him.

The boy took his clothes off and jumped into the lake.

The lake was shallow enough for the light of the fire to paint silhouettes at the bottom. The boy followed a trail of warmth from where he had seen the man throw the burning log.

Half of this was driven by the instinct of escaping the cold.

The other half that drove him deeper to the bottom was an ambition to be a ruler of all kinds of riches.

As he swam to the bottom of the lake, he dreamt of the silks he'd wear, and the luxuries he'd possess. He pictured himself in a mansion bigger than life itself, one he'd fill with riches not even the devil would even dream of having.

"The devil himself will envy me," he thought to himself as he reached the warmest spot in the lake.

He swam up from the bottom, log in hand, and swam up to where he saw the silhouette of a man, poking the fire.

"Come and stand by the fire. Dry yourself," said the man, handing him a handkerchief and taking the object he brought from the lake. "And while you do, I'll instruct you. What you've brought is an object that has gained its colors by the warmth of this fire, and its texture by the cold of that water." The man poked the fire and excited a good number of sparks out of it.

"The fire was born out of the logs of this forest, and is as lively as it is since the ground it dies on is the very ground in which it was born. The water of the lake is as cold as it is since the very bottom of it lays so far away from anything living, and so much close to all of those gone. You will feel tempted to keep this object born from duality but by doing so you will bring your own damnation. Sell it away, and never think of it again. Once you begin to thrive, you shall move away from this lake and this fire. You shall remove yourself entirely from any evidence of your beginning."

The boy, now a little warmer, took his clothes and dressed himself. He sat by the fire, on the log he had previously sat on.

"Contrarily of this, if you come back to the place where your fortune arose, a vile ruin shall befall you that even the devil will not wish to have your fortune. Take the thing and leave at once. Good night to you." The man wiped the object with the bottom of his vest and limped out of view, into the darkness of the forest.

The boy took the object and drew it near the fire to inspect it.

In his hands laid a figure of the head of a decrepit old man with ruby red eyes. Under the eyes, were layers upon layers of skin, a pair of bags showing years of fatigue upon him. The boy ran his fingers through the figure and felt some familiarity towards it, although he could not explain why. Every detail of the figured laid so perfectly carved that the boy felt tempted to keep it himself, for it would be a waste to let such a piece of craftmanship go to waste in the hands of others.

He took it to a shop and sold it anyways, as his next meal depended on this.

The man on the shop accidentally handed him twice the amount he had promised, and the boy rejoiced.

From that moment forward, anything that ever came to him, did in the form of mistakes of others, and he built a fortune out of this.

Many a time he found cases of money.

Once or twice he was mistaken to be someone he was not, and given luxurious jewelry he then sold for good money.

Once, a man mistakenly wrote him into his will and made him the heir of a factory of vehicles that gave him a steady income.

Eventually he built himself into a well known man of business, although he gained a reputation to bring ruin to all that approached him. This latter section of his reputation chained him into a life of solitude.

Not once in his life did he find a partner that wished to remain by his side, or a friend that lasted more than a day sharing tales with him.

The man, driven by a madness born of a deep loneliness or old age, bought a piece of land by a lakeside, and built a mansion on it. In his backyard, a pit of fire stood, where he once undressed himself and dove into the lake.

The land around the mansion died in its entirety. The trees no longer painted the sky green, nor did any animal approach the forest by the lake.

The people of the town had two stories to account for this.

One, talked about the damage the machinery caused to the land surrounding the mansion. No house was ever meant to be constructed there, nor was any man meant to roam that close to a lake so cold it was rumored to be the end of the Styx itself.

The other story spoke of the man, and his magical touch to rid everything around him of any life or fortune.

The latter one was a simpler story to tell, and hence one that spread a lot easier, rendering the old man even lonelier.

On a cold October night, the old man sat in his back yard by the fire, attempting to make some sense of his solitude. How could his live have turned so sour? At what point in his life did his ambitions overshadow all manner of love or company?

Not everything could be as bad as he was making out to be, right? He had as many riches as he always dreamed of. He had the mansion he wanted and the luxuries he always desired.

Except, of course, the face with the ruby eyes. He was never able to regain possession of it, hard as he may have tried.

And then, the old man thought of a plan he immediately put into action.

He lifted a log from the bottom of the pit of fire in front of him, and threw it into the center of the lake as a man once did many years prior.

He then undressed, although a lot slower than before, since less ambition lived now in him. He walked into the lake and swam to the center, where once again he followed the trail of warmth.

Half of it was driven by the instinct of clinging on to whatever warmth surrounds us in the cold.

The other half, was driven by a need to feel any sort of warmth in his life at least once, however passing.

He reached the bottom, and swam up the lake with the object in his hands.

Once out of the water, when he stood by the fire, he looked about and noticed the scenery of his home had changed dramatically.

For one, his home was gone and trees were erected in its stead. In fact, every tree surrounding the place where his house once was, now stood with lively tops, although they looked like clouds of darkness surrounding a pit of fire.

In front of this pit, however, stood the starkest contrast of all: there was now a man standing by the fire, warming his hands on it.

The old man approached him, and by the time he reached the pit, the figure by the fire looked up to greet him.

"Good to see you again, my friend. And good night to you." At this, the figure by the fire took the old man's head and pressed it onto the center of the pit.

A good number of hours had passed, and the moon now showed its reflection on the lake like an enormous and luminous coin. A boy approached the lakeside from the forest, and with a handful of dirt on his clothes, meant to ask the man who stood there poking at the fire for a coin.