Silkhaven 2

2.

The smoke of the cigarette escaped out the window, latching onto the autumnal wind outside. Jacob sat poised with one leg bent upward resting his head on the frame of the glass as the smoke left his lips. "Another chilly day" he observed as he spread the ash of the cigarette into the ceramic tan mug resting on the windowsill, eyes kept focused on the cobblestone streets below.

It was Jacob's first week in Silkhaven, and a week it had most certainly been. Between hauling furnishings up to the newly adopted flat and coping with the overwhelming amount of solitude, he found himself finally able to rest and fully acknowledge his surroundings in the quiet obscure town.

The third month of breakup wounds and heartache had finally settled upon him, and what better way to find a reason to live than to live somewhere new without reason. The busy streets of Boston only served as a reminder of grand times once cherished and masquerading as everlasting. The same walk home every night from the same dimly lit bar was becoming as stale as life itself. The nightclubs sufficed for a time, entertaining him with temporary Julliets for the evening or glazing his mind with terrible music that forced his heart to burst in his chest due to the loudness. Yet even the crowds and dancing with those in similar positions soon became mere distractions. Every night, regardless of memories made, always ended with a cold side to his bed and a longing for what once was.

It was not until the temperature stooped to leaf wilting conditions that Jacob gave himself a life changing ultimatum. With the approach of Winter it was made apparent that he would either be left stagnant in this city or need to leave it far behind, snow,cold,memories and all. Journeying to the nearest all inclusive goods store one frigid afternoon he found himself gazing at laminated maps. Cheaply made, and just as cheap to purchase, an idea was sprung. Making his way to the register he picked up a clove of playing darts (also cheaply manufactured) and decided to feed himself with a chunk of chocolate (most likely a year old, at best). Exiting the store he took to the sidewalk with a bit of haste, more than he had shown in the past months of existing. Heeding not the beggars on the street or the graffiti that decorated the street corners, he quickly made it to his apartment.

A brief moment of lock fiddling and the warmth of home pressurized his cheeks with welcoming embrace. Casting off his black jacket and unraveling the checkered scarf around his neck, Jacob set to work with unloading the contents from todays shopping expedition. As he unrolled the map of the US of A he rested half filled mugs of coffee upon three of the corners, unraveling the final corner and keeping it still with a pack of cigarettes he had in his pocket. The map was clearly nothing special, colorful in parts and simple. A small map key lay at the bottom right hand corner with a copyright that made it known that it was created in 2008, thus explaining the affordability. "Now to pin it up" Jacob thought to himself. "Tacs... a hammer... where?" He stated out loud to the silence of his dining room. Eyes darting to and fro to no avail, he settled upon kitchen knives. Forced into the lifestyle of being single in Boston had left Jacob with little use for kitchen cutlery seeing as almost every meal was eaten by hand and typically rested in his freezer with a price tag of $2.50. Retrieving a handful of day-to-day knives of assorted sharpness from a nearby cabinet Jacob quickly stripped the map from the table, plastering the floor below with stale coffee conjured from one of the mugs recently holding the map in place. Spreading his arms in an act of embrace towards the nearest wall, he held the oversized map in each hand as the center of it was gripped by his teeth. Extracting one of the knives from his back pocket he drove it deep into the right hand upper most corner, piercing the dry wall and sending a blanketed "thud" throughout the dining room. Jacob then began to work on the left corner, making his way around the map positioning each blade with deep precision that only a broken heart could be proud of.

Hesitantly stepping away, Jacob admired the artistry of geography he had posted upon his wall. Now the fun part, he thought to himself as he reached into the convenience store bag retrieving the playing darts. Slowly stepping away from the pinned up dollar store map, he shuffled his feet till his heels clicked against the opposing wall. Snatching a single dart out of the collective in his left hand, his right arm bent, poised to hurl the needle at America's center. Nearly ready to release the dart, Jacob bent his left arm covering his eyes with the crease of his elbow, blinding him from the target merely eight feet ahead. Taking blind aim Jacob then slung the dart towards the wall hearing the resonating thud of metal imbedded in plaster. A second dart was then tossed in the same fashion, followed by a third until his left hand was emptied. Hesitantly his eyes opened to reveal a series of darts strewn across the map with a somewhat concentrated cluster on the northern most eastern seaboard. Upon closer examination, it was discovered that three of the darts (those closest in proximity to one another) all congregated within the states of New England. Expressing disappointment through a shallow sigh Jacob approached the map, surveying the small collection of darts and panning his eyes towards the other ones, catching sight of a single lonesome dart that had penetrated the wall itself, missing the map entirely.

The entire purpose of this exercise was to decide upon a new area to reside in with little to no preparation or forethought. The idea was to pitch each dart unsighted into the map, and wherever chance chose to have them land would become his new dwelling (even if just for a season). Yet here he stood, performance over, anticipation dissipated, having fate beckon him to stay close to home.

It was not until the following morning that the decision was made pertaining to the next chapter of Jacob's life. The morning was brisk as all were this time of year, the sun hid behind clouds peaking its rays hourly. The chill of winter and the familiar smell of the city were remembered vividly when Jacob recounted his morning walk to the library. His breath still carried the scent of dark red wine from the night before as his lips cradled a cigarette. As he approached the archways of the city library he ran a cold hand around the edges of his eyes, waving off the sleep that they demanded. Upon entry of the library he briskly walked towards the section holding historical archives and treasured collections of town and city records. His worn down shoes scuffled and buffered the marble floor as he panned over the rows of ancient books. Raising a single hand he glided a finger upon the spines of each as his eyes drifted over the titles, seeking one of relevance. Eyes and finger halted upon a book with binding black as night, embroidered with scarlet swirls and lines. A single eyebrow raised as Jacob admired the beauty of the red design etched into the spine of the book, and with an uptick of his index finger he pulled the book from its nestled resting place among its brothers and sisters.

"Villages of New England: A History of Massachusetts Small Towns" read the title on the front cover. Jacob's hands pried the cover open revealing a collection of mustard yellow pages with fading lettering. Flipping through the first fifty or so he stopped only to stare at pictures of cottages and dying farmland, intrigued by the scenery presented in the black and white coloration. Skimming over page after page devoted to small unheard of towns Jacob halted at a picture of a church standing behind a collection of people in what appeared to be funeral garb. The photograph itself seemed to be ancient, children stared blankly and ominously beside their mother's knees and sorrow spread itself on the faces of all those who were gathered in front of the chapel. In small print below the photograph read the words "Collective of Saint Benedict. Circa 1912, First Church of Eden: Silkhaven". Jacob's lips pursed as he mouthed the word "Creepy", yet his attention was harnessed. Snooping through the next few pages he discovered an abundance of photos documenting the history of the small town of Silkhaven. Secluded graveyards, open fields, and a dreary history all sparked his interest, and with not much energy left within him this seemed as good a place as any to find seclusion.

"Fuck it" Jacob dryly spoke to the quiet of the library, his mind had been decided.