Abyss #6

The mists closed softly behind the boy – they stole his senses and filled the world with hushed white. He could feel the ground beneath his feet, pressing up against each foot as he walked. There were no shadows in the valley of the sleepers, only emptiness upon emptiness; a palpable presence that matched his stride.

No sound carried, no needles crunched beneath his feet and no perfume found his nose. There were only the devouring mists. With nothing to occupy his senses, memories came as the boy walked; they seeped from the canvas of his mind and played themselves upon the white backdrop of the valley. At first there were vague impressions, but as the boy walked, people and faces took shape. They were old, his memories having aged alongside the souls. They stared at the boy and fell in behind him as the fog had done. A low babble grew as they gathered, a general murmur that blossomed in his wake.

“Are you not weary?” a voice spoke, clear at last. He did not need to turn to recognize the speaker. His grandmother fell into stride next to him.

“I am weary,” he said.

“Then rest a while with us. We have missed you.”

The boy looked around then. Smiling faces looked back. He recognized them all, but names could find no purchase in his mind.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

“We were waiting for you,” said his grandmother. Heads nodded and smiles flared. “Waiting for you,” they said.

“Why?”

“Because you are weary. Because you need comfort and rest. The way is long,” she said.

The boy felt the mist press beneath his flesh. His muscles grew cold, his pulse slowed.

“Rest,” she said. “The path will wait.”

The boy smiled.

“I have missed you,” he said.

“And I have missed you,” she said, and opened her arms.

The boy took a step, but felt a tugging at his sole. He paused, waited for something more, but the tug was not repeated.

“What is it?” Asked his grandmother.

“Where am I?” he asked.

“You are home. At last.”

The boy shook his head. His memories swam, but remained solid.

“This is not my home,” he said.

“If not here, then where?”

The boy shook his head again.

“I don’t know,” he said.

“Then rest,” she said. “Why struggle with the unknown when the known is familiar and welcome.”

The boy felt the tug again. He didn’t need to see his shadow to know it was there. The present flooded his mind – he latched onto the moment.

“The known is always familiar, but rarely enough,” he said. He recognized his shadow’s voice, filling his throat and giving strength to his words. “It is easy to be content, and difficult to struggle; easier to remain static than dynamic; easier to drown than swim. We burrow ourselves into false securities and lies. We live in dreams and ignore reality. We accept easy answers and forget to question.”

A ripple passed through the mist. He saw it in the eyes of his gathered memories.

“We sleep,” he said, “And forget what it is to be awake.”

“What are we to do?” his memories asked, in a single voice from many mouths.

“Stay here,” said the boy. “Sleep. Be content. I cannot stay, and I cannot carry you anymore.”

The boys memories opened their mouths and let forth a collective sigh. They poured themselves into the breath – forms faded as a breeze rose. The mists swirled with the movement. The sigh rose, gathering strength, and parted the white cloud surrounding the boy. In a moment – not his moment, but a moment nonetheless – the mist and the sleepers were gone. The boy found himself perched at the edge of a black abyss. Solid stone pressed upward against his feet, clinging to him before falling away into nothingness. Stars filled the sky above, but ended at the horizon.

The boy’s shadow fell into the abyss and was swallowed by its vastness.

“Hello?” he called into the void. No echo returned. The black was greedy for sound, hungry for light.

“You have come far,” said the void – the voice was his shadow’s, but vast beyond comprehension. The abyss had not swallowed his shadow, it was filled by it.

The boy stood before the darkest part of himself and was dwarfed by what stared back. He retreated a step, the void advanced.

“There will be no running,” it said. “This is the end.”

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Tags:

boy, journey and shadow