So since I have been a little less than productive with regards to crafting anything, I will, instead, share with you a little story (okay, it's not all that little; and for those of you who dislike reading long posts, you might want to stop now). It is something of a short story that was co-authored by my baby brother (I say 'baby' but the truth is that he is turning 18 this year). This piece may or may not have found its way into being as part of a school assignment. It's called:
If you listen closely to the voices that whisper
from within the darkest of shadows, you can hear them call it by its true name:
Tardaris…
It has happened again. I lie in
the darkness and slowly open my eyes to discover that I am covered in a thin
sheen of sweat. I do not need to look over at the glowing red numbers on the
alarm clock on my night-stand to know that it is just gone three am, the real
witching hour. I know that if I move it will
consume me; drag me into a dark place that I don’t have the strength to endure.
This is the third night in a row that this being has called to me, awakening me
from the sleep that I so desperately need. Tonight, however, it seems
different. Closing my eyes to a more complete darkness I struggle to get my
breathing under control whilst fighting the urge to roll over and embrace this
darkness. For reasons I will never fully comprehend, I find that tonight the
impulse to succumb is weighing on me more heavily than any of the previous
nights. Thinking that perhaps, if I open my eyes again, perhaps look around the
room, I will be assured of my solitude and my heart rate will settle.
I was mistaken.
The pressure on my chest is not
coming from an invisible force as I assumed, something pressing down on me from my imagination, but
instead was coming from the weight of it. In the dim red glow of my alarm
clock, I can see the sheen of something on its skin, but I cannot tell if it is
blood or sweat in the semi-darkness. Its face seems contorted with either pain
or anger, perhaps even both but I can’t be sure. Its lips are drawn back in a
cold sneer that seems to turn my blood to ice; and then there are the things
eyes. I have never seen such eyes, intense and focused, but what got to me the
most was their colour. The irises standing out in sharp contrast to the red
sclera. Apart from the redness, I realize with shock, these eyes are exactly
like mine. Before I am able to even suck in a ragged breath to let out an
ear-splitting scream, it melts into me, into my chest, right over my heart, and
I finally understand. This is it, the thing that has been waking me, stalking
me, haunting me.
During the daylight hours I see
so much evil in this world that I cannot defeat, let alone combat. This is the
part of me that has been irrefutably and irreconcilably altered by that evil.
The part of me that knows that the only way that I could possibly win, even
marginally, is to become that same evil that I so desperately long to destroy.
Suddenly fully conscious, I take
stock of my surroundings, and I realize that this isn’t in fact my cozy little
room, and the red glow is from something vastly more sinister than my ancient
alarm clock.
Getting up off of what I thought
was my bed I move slowly towards the only light source in this darkness and
come to a cold stone wall with a gaping hole that serves as the window to my
cell. All I can discern through this opening is more darkness. In the distance
I can hear that familiar voice calling my name and I know that it has trapped
me here, stolen my consciousness, leaving me in what I can only assume is the
Realm of Shadows. Tardadis.
From the deep recesses of my
memory I can only just recall Grandma telling me, warning me of this accursed
place. The place of Lost Souls, the ones desperate to find their way back into
the waking world. And now it seems that I have joined their ranks. The details
that I can remember are sketchy and broken but Grandma always warned me not to
listen to the whispers: “Join us in a world
where there is no such thing as time, and every creature lends themselves to
steal your state of mind.” I didn’t
heed Grandma’s warnings, thinking that they were mere childish ghost stories
meant to frighten naughty children.
Days have passed and all I have
managed is to find a torch to light my way through this endless maze of
corridors built from the same cold, gray stone. I do not even know if I have
been here before, or not. There is something chasing me. Following my every
step, but it scurries out of light and I only just catch glimpses of it form
the corner of my eye. Yesterday I know I
saw one of them watching me. It seems that the creatures here have all given up
hope and their wide empty eyes reflect the light and nothing else. The
whiteness consuming all hope and turning it to ash.
I know that if I stop I will
become more and more like them, lose what is left of me, and I will give up on
my quest for freedom. And so I must carry on, keep moving, keep going. No time.
No rest.
I am hunting, but my prey eludes
me. I suppose it would help if I had a clear quarry other than freedom. Tell
me, what does it look like, where do you find it? Never the less I will keep going, moving from
room to room, searching for something other than the cold grayness of empty
stone, or the white emptiness of soul-less beings…
The days become a blur and I lose
myself bit by bit as time goes on and on, yet I know that this place is bereft
of time. Another empty room is behind me and all signs point to this next one being
empty as well. My feet know the routine and my hands know the motions, but it
is my eyes that find the difference. The darkness is more complete here and the
coldness cuts deeper into me. My torch cannot cut into this thick darkness and
I feel that this room is different
and tainted with something unnatural. I find an empty scone on the wall and
place my torch in there, lest it is extinguished in this place.
This room is different and my eyes find the reason: before me is a well. As I
approach it, I see that instead of the gray stone the rest of this dismal place
seems to be made of, it is built from polished marble. It seems to be calling
me, whispering sweet things to me, willing me to come closer. My instincts tell
me that this is not a good place to linger, but my body doesn’t obey and I find
myself drifting ever closer to this beckoning well. Coming closer I see that
the marble must once have been breathtakingly beautiful, but time, dirt and
neglect have left it in a state slightly less depressing than the rest of this
soul-destroying place.
“You won’t find it in here.”
In the darkness and after an
eternity of silence the whispered words sound deafening in my ears and I scurry
away from the well and what ever else is lurking within its shadowy darkness.
“You want to know where to find
freedom, but you won’t find it in here.”
As if reading my unspoken
thoughts and answering my unasked questions the thing turns its wide white eyes
in my direction, reaching out for me. My heart, it seems is trying to hammer
its way through my chest and my lungs have suddenly become redundant, refusing
to fill with the air I need. After what has seemed like an eternity of almost
aimless wandering through endless corridors and countless rooms, this can’t be
how my story ends. I refuse to run, I refuse to let this thing scare me
further. If this is to be my end, I will make such an end so as to be
remembered.
While I stood there contemplating
my fate and how I would embrace it, the white eyes of this Soul-Thief stared at
me as the rest of him curved ever closer to the marble lip if the well.
“You won’t find it in here,” it
repeated, perhaps making sure that I heard him the first time.
“How do you know what I
want?” I ask with as much defiance as I
can muster. Silence was the only response I got from the Soul-Thief.
I dared to inch closer to both
this thing and the well as I could still feel the seductive pull of the marble.
“If it’s my soul that you want,
go ahead and take it, but I…”
A skeletal hand stopped my tirade
before I even got fully started, and it shocked me enough to kill the words in
my throat.
“You haven’t much of a soul left,
and a fragmented soul is not what I seek, Dreamer.” His voice was soft and non threatening, but
then so were all the other voices that have deserted me in this forsaken
place. I am still suspect of this Well
Guardian, but the weariness of my long search was starting to pull at me,
threatening to snuff out the last of my will to carry on.
“You haven’t much further to go
if freedom is truly what you seek, Dreamer. But know that there is little in
this world that comes without a substantial cost.”
Even as I watch I feel as if some
of this being was fading, disappearing, and some part of me longed to fade away
too. Perhaps it would be easier fading away than to try and gain, or, if the
Well Guardian is to be believed, buy
my freedom.
“All you have to do make your way
to the Upper Level. There is where you will find the door that leads to the
freedom that you seek.” And with those
cryptic last words this being takes a single step backwards and fades
completely.
It took me forever, but finally
it loomed in front of me, poised to strike like some sort of demonic stone
serpent. This has to be the winding staircase that leads into the Upper Level
and this snake-like staircase sits here motionless as if waiting for its next
victim. Much to my horror the light from my torch seemed to bring the serpent
to life, bouncing shadows from one cold wall to the next. The darkness ran up
the stairs, almost begging me to follow. I stood as still as stone at the base
of those cold, foreboding stairs, hesitant to proceed, but the thirst for freedom
gets the better of me and I start ascending them to meet my grim fate. The
serpent goes round and around, and up and up and I feel like every step could
very well be my last, but it never is.
Without warning the viper
attacked; paralyzing me with a cold torrent of darkness which blew past me,
fast and furious, threatening to blow me down these endless stairs. There is
little else for me to do other than to brace myself against the cold stone wall
and pray that the stones themselves are not in league with these demonic
stairs. However this attack was not completely without success, as even though
I regained my footing with less effort than I thought it would require, its icy
breath has extinguished my torch and left me frozen, listening to the soft and
soothing voices of Soul-Thieves in the darkness, whispering sweet death into my
ears. This was no staircase to heaven but more like the assent to Chaos and
Darkness.
But I must not give in, I cannot
have come this far only to give up. And so, hoping to find light at the end of
this ‘tunnel’ I slowly take one more step. And then another, and another,
thinking about nothing else, not even what might be awaiting me at the top. So
absorbed in moving forward I was that I barely noticed that I have reached the
top.
Glancing up, I am struck by the
stark contrast between the things that roamed here, and those that dwell
below. Unnoticed for the moment, I
silently make my way forward, hoping to find that elusive dream of freedom.
Suddenly everything changes as a
thousand eyes, maybe more, all turn in my direction at the same time. Like
starved animals, I could see that they have scented fresh blood and I knew
without a shadow of a doubt that I have just changed from being the hunter to
becoming the hunted.
Desperate to escape I race
towards the only unblocked passage other than the serpentine stairs behind me.
Perhaps they would have been a better choice.
Without conscious thought my feet carry me forward at a pace I never knew
I could reach, faster and faster until I know nothing but blurred shapes and
the sounds of ever-gaining, countless
pursuers. There is no way that I can carry on at this pace and my body is
warning me about the fatigue that is lingering just below the surface.
When last did I sleep?
It doesn’t matter now. I need to
find somewhere to hide. Now. An answer to my prayers. I turn a corner and find
a door that leads into a room in which there is more light than in this
darkened corridor, without my torch I am desperate for any kind of light.
I enter the room and slam the
door, hoping to buy at least a moment in which to catch my breath. Leaning my
back against the door I look around the room at my new surroundings and quickly
discover the source of the dim light. This is a large room and it appears to be
square, but I cannot tell from my vantage point. The walls all seem to be lined
with either mirrors or blackened windows, but in the dim light I cannot tell
which they are. For the first time since arriving in this Nightmare, I can
clearly see the sky and hanging in it is a full moon partially covered in wispy
clouds, yet it still manages to boldly spill its silver light through the
missing and broken tiles in the roof. I
know that my reprieve will be a short one but I cannot help the smile that
steals onto my lips as turn my face
towards the light.
The peace that I have found
within this sanctuary is quickly shattered as in the mirrored walls I can see
them coming in through the cracks and materializing in the shadows. This is no
sanctuary, its more like a tomb. I have doomed myself by coming in here.
Executing a slow circle as I move
into the center of the moonlit room I realize that I am completely surrounded
by Soul-Thieves without the hope of escape. They are all slowly making their
way towards me, dragging it out for their own sadistic pleasure, feeding on my
fear. Like an avenging angel the wind whistles through the broken windows and
gaps in the roof as it whips away the clouds that cover the moon. The dim half
beams suddenly seem to blaze into the room as though the moon has temporarily
exchanged places with the sun.
In one pool of light a creature
is caught, not having moved as fast as its fellows. Alone in this pool of
silver the creature falls to the floor and withers in agony as it releases a
earth-shattering scream that turns my blood to ice and cuts into what is left
of my tattered soul. Seeing one of them in full light for the first time I am
horror stuck as I know that this is my soon to be fate. I am to join their
ranks.
Its white eyes are empty and
hollow in a face that is covered in pale, paper thin skin. The lips are barely
discernible as they are drawn back over vicious looking splinters that serve as
the thing’s teeth. The hands are raised to its face as if to block out the
light and protect itself from it, but failing miserably. The bony hands are
curled in a claw like fashion as it opens its mouth even further and releases
another soul destroying scream. As hard as it is to watch I try and throw a
quick glance at the others hoping that they have stopped their advance on me.
They have.
My quick glance becomes a
horrified stare as I watch the change come over the Soul-Thief closest to me.
Although I cannot see it as clearly as I can the one on the floor, like always,
I can see the eyes. They are no longer the wide open whites that I have come to
expect in this place, but instead, as it watches its comrade on the floor, they
cloud over and become a deep shade of scarlet. I cannot suppress the shudder of
horror that runs through my body and suddenly all of the eyes snap back to me.
No longer watching the thing on the floor I am surprised when the noise that it
was making starts to fade into a wounded whimper. A quick glance tells me that
it has managed to drag itself out of the light and back into the shadows to
lick its invisible wounds.
The eyes that were filled with a
beastly hunger as the chase began now look at me with hostile anger, almost as
if blaming me for the plight of one of their own. Strengthened by the pain of the still
whimpering creature, they restart their advance with more ferocity than before.
But that is not my biggest concern right now. The light of the moon which
seemed to be my salvation is once again fading as another cloud, this one more
substantial than the first, seeks to cover the face of the moon.
Fear paralyzes me and I feel my
legs give out from under me as I sink slowly to the floor. I know that this is
the end and I know that the Well Guardian has tricked me into damnation. There
is no salvation here, no freedom and there is definitely no escape from
Tardaris. Even so I cannot help but desperately scan the room looking for a
possible way out. There is none.
My body and soul weep silently as
I lie on the cold, stone floor ready to embrace my fate. One by one the horde
around me continues their advance carefully, but quickly, avoiding the pools of
fading moonlight. I cast my eyes upwards just in time to see the new cloud
fully embrace the moon, darkening my last hope along with the remaining
light.
I wrap my arms around myself and
curl up in utter defeat as I let the silent tears run down my face shamelessly.
Laying on the floor with my cheek pressed into the stone I accept what is to
come. Suddenly the whimpering creature falls silent and the ragged breathing of
the advancing, angry swarm fades into silence as I watch a single tear form in
the corner of my eye and slowly cut a path over the bridge of my nose. Time,
sound and movement seems suspended along with this single drop of despair and I
know that nothing else matters anymore. I feel no pain, no cold, no hunger. No
hope.
With this realisation comes peace
as I start closing my eyes, unwilling to look into the scarlet pools of anger
and hunger that surround me. But
something stops me. The cloud that sealed my doom has a single flaw. A tiny
tear, just big enough for a single moonbeam to escape and get caught in the
tear that is still growing. Unable and unwilling to move, I simply watch as the
light is caught and the teardrop finally falls to the floor. I don’t really see
the fall but I know the exact moment that it hits the floor, because as the
drop explodes on the unforgiving stone, the light that it captured escapes and fills the room
with the beauty of the full moon. It’s magnified a hundred and then a thousand
times as it bounces around the room’s mirror walls. I look up and see that the
light has formed a protective dome around me, and the creatures shy away from
it and the brightness that it radiates.
Now that they are withdrawing
into the retreating darkness I can see my way of escape, the way that was
blocked from view because of the darkness that is now absent. As if the light
is calling me, willing me to get up and follow, it intensifies into a
shimmering disc that floats just outside of the newly illuminated doorway.
Without much thought or hesitation I force my legs to obey me again as I make a
break for the doorway and the freedom it promises. The red in the eyes of my
enemies, which had started to fade in the brightness, flares scarlet again as
they see me make my way to the doorway. Thankfully, the protection offered by
this light will not let them interfere nor pursue, and my way remains
unimpeded. The closer I get to the light disc the more easily I am able to
define it: it appeared to be a sign pointing the way towards salvation, but, in
fact, it is something much better. It is
my escape. It’s a portal that will most
assuredly lead me to freedom. I know what I must do and yet there is a part of
me that is warning against it, begging me to reconsider. I don’t listen and
throw myself into it with the desperation of one that has been condemned.
The light consumes me and I feel
myself moving towards the end. Slightly disorientated I cannot tell if I am
moving forwards, falling downwards or flying upwards, all I know is that I am
leaving behind the Soul-Thieves.
The end is looming, coming closer
and closer, and I suddenly find that I am looking into the face of the Well
Guardian; the one that sent me into this trap. There is nothing I can do except
move towards him. Faster and faster, closer and closer until I can clearly see
the white orbs that serve as his eyes. It might be my imagination but I can
almost see triumph within them. This is the well that I am shooting through, I
realize, as I am expelled from it, and start falling back towards the floor. He
is waiting there and steps underneath me as if to catch me, and again there is
nothing I can do but to let it happen. He spreads his arms wide as if to
embrace me and I close my eyes in defeat.
Nothing catches me. I fall on to
the the cold stone and scramble onto my hands and knees seeking the
Deceiver. He is gone, disappeared like
smoke in the wind and there is no whisper to even suggest that he was ever
here.
My protesting body rebels as I
slowly crawl towards and reach up for the marble wall of the well. I feel
detached and empty and I don’t know if it is because of the fall or because I
have lost all hope, but something within me is broken or perhaps even missing.
I reach up with a hand that I do not recognize and brace myself on the wall,
pulling my battered body into a semi-upright position.
The effort it took makes my
breath come faster and I lean over the side of the well trying to make sense of
it all and catch my breath. Instead I catch a glimpse of my face in the calm
waters of the well. At least I think it is my face. It has my facial features
and it has my hair, but the eyes are all wrong. Where the eyes should be there
is nothing. A great, white emptiness. I reach up to my face, praying that the
thing in the water does not copy me. It does and I finally realize the truth.
I have lost the battle. I have
lost my Soul.
A sound from the darkness has me
looking up, startling me. Logically I know that just because I am at my end
does not mean that it has all ended. There will always be more.
The sound came from the doorway.
Standing in the darkness with a torch in hand is a person, draped in a cloak of
despair. Looking around and finding a place for the torch, which is quickly
discarded, this new victim advances towards the well. This is a person with an
air of desperation clinging to them, but this one is incomplete; something is
missing. I know what it is that’s missing: it is the strength of the soul. The
Truth dawns on me in that instant: there will never be an end. Someone must
come, someone must suffer, someone must lose.
Long ago there was a creature
that was me. It had my eyes and kept me awake at night. Now it is back
whispering, taunting, guiding.
“Take this one, this soul could be yours. You know how,” it hisses.
“Do it now, before it’s too late.”
I find my voice and whisper,
trying to keep the desperation from my voice.
“You won’t find it in here…”
THE END.
It still kinda gives me the creeps and I was part of it's creation. If you have any thoughts on this, feel free to share them.
ACL.
