The Long Way Home From Here

I've been here for so long. I'm pretty sure it's been longer than a minute, but not quite a week. Not yet. I tried to count the number of doors, but I kept losing my place, and I didn't know if I should only count the doors on my right, or on my left, or both. At one point I tried to leave fingernail marks, but after a while I started bleeding. So then I started marking the doors with my blood. I tried to write on them, but that eventually added up to a lot of blood. My thumb hasn't been infected yet. But my beard hasn't grown. If I've spent days here, then why hasn't my body changed? Why haven't I gone thirsty or hungry? Why haven't I slept? Time has no meaning now.
Everything is so recurring. The dull green walls that seem almost grey. The lifeless white paint that still covers the doors. The lamps in between the doors that don't really light up the hallway... they bother me the most. It feels like you could turn them off, and the lighting wouldn't change. It would still be dull and dead. I feel like I'm running around inside the mind of a brain-dead man. But there aren't any rooms. I open a door, and only find myself in another hallway. But this is impossible. The configuration of the hallways aren't always the same. There was one hallway I was in, that was just a square. Twenty and a half paces on each side. I tried a door on my left, on the inside of the square. When I walked through, I stood in a long hallway. But I mean long. I could barely see the end where they turned into sharp corners. More than twenty and a half paces.
I wish this was a dream. But I can feel the disturbing solidness of the floor underneath me, the cold touch of the doorknobs... and that terrible, ultimate, sanity-rendering moment of clarity of thought. That's how I knew I was awake. Not dreaming. When I could clear my confusion away, when I could just focus and think straight, I knew I was in reality. But here I am, regaining my focus, staring at things I learned to be impossible,
all things are possible in an infinite timeline
wondering how I could still be sure everything was real.
But I was sure. This was all true. The crushing reality of the place kept pressing itself against my skull. Trying to burst out from the inside. The pulsating pounding headache. The constant fatigue. The endless, unchanging repetition. Door. Hallway. Walk. Door. Door. Walk. Walk. Hallway. Door. Hallway. Walk. Door. Hallway. Walk.
Door. Hallway. Walk. Eventually, I will either die, or find a way out of here. But I haven't found any trace of anything I've left. So I could be walking around in circles, with every trace disappearing when I leave the hallway. Or these hallways go on forever. They don't end. And nothing changes.
I walked through another door, and saw some sort of twisted and knotted tree stump. The dry, desiccated body of my wife was crucified on the tree. My heart was trying to vomit itself out, but stayed stuck in my throat.
As I tried to walk past it, a cold bony hand grabbed my arm firmly. I turned my head back to see her eyeless skull staring at me. I fell to my knees and cried.

Where you found death, I found life

Snowflakes drift down from the sky, as the cold, crisp air fills my lungs.
My soul is at rest, at peace here. All the pain, conflict. struggle... their chains become ethereal here. I am free from those bonds. I dance on a snowflake with a thousand angels. I am alone yet in such company. My heart sings. The sun shines so bright. The wind here is made of the most beautiful music. I don't even care how fleeting the moment is. Here is true liberation, real freedom.
I watch as water-giving life is stopped in time in pillars hanging from the edges of roofs, and become white, blue, and transparent mirrors across lakes and ponds. And those tiny crystals they become when the rain freezes in the air... my childlike wonder for them still shines, no matter what these wrinkles in my face say I should be, no matter what these cracking joints and sore bones protest. I am alive again, youth tasted in old man winter's wake.
Before he melts away into sleep, breathe the air with me and tell me you do not see the sober beauty of what some call the death of seasons.

Freedom

A long, jagged steel spike had been violently rammed into my chest, tearing through my heart. A burning began to spread through my body. My nerves, so alive and squealing, kept me from breathing. Eternity passed, and I was unable to even begin to process the idea of removing it. It pinned both my body and my mind down. Searing agony kept all rational thought at bay. I thrashed and writhed, raged and wept as the endless seconds stretched over aeons through my infinite hell.
Fathomless amounts of time passed, and I had numbed. The unbearable wall of white noise was now but a loud hum. My thoughts flowed, coming from a small spring, and eventually forming a river.
It began as a question. A doubt of the course of action that needed to be taken. I forged that question into a resolve. I molded it into a tool and an instruction. I grasped any and all strength that remained, and pulled.
It was not as painful as I thought it would be. Difficult, but not impossible.
With three heaves, I was free. I bellowed and roared, from the adrenaline and the joy.
I gazed down and saw the gaping hole in my chest. I relished the sheer freedom from the pain that had dominated and enslaved me. And then something curious occurred - an odd, empty feeling. I felt my hand linger at my wound... and this strange compulsion to place the spike back in me.
I stayed my hand. I will let myself heal instead.
I went on my way, and felt my wound begin to close.
For the first time in a long time, I smiled.

A Breath Never Exhaled

The pressures of the world were great. They could not hold against the days, beneath the sun.
So they went to the waters, and let themselves sink.
Further and further down, the world faded away, and they were at peace.
Beautiful was the serene quietness, but cruel was the surface.
For only in the surface could they find the air that they needed to breathe.
So they would break away from the waters, and return to their world, and return to breathing.
Some were rested, some invigorated, but always were there those who were afraid and exposed.
The days always dragged on and on, grating against their souls. But solace and peace continued to wait in the waters.
So they would bathe and and they would sink 'till their lungs could hold no longer, shrugging off the world in a place that rested deeper than sleep, that held wonders more beautiful than dreams.
At last, those who could no longer bear the separation from the tranquility gave in. They sank further from the surface, and breathed in. The darkness swallowed them.


From the surface, those who chose life looked to their sinking friends and spoke:
"Though we were greater in strength, they know now a peace eternal, carried away from the callous hands of life."

Sluagh Rising

"You can't give up. You don't have a choice."

The old man's voice echoed through my head.

I had to get up, I had to keep fighting.

The were four. I was one. How can you fight that?

I don't know kung fu. I'm not some motorcycle-riding bad ass that can beat up everybody that gets in my way. I can just see them, for what they really are. And I have to do what's right.

They take souls. Life force. Brainwaves. Whatever the fuck you want to call it. They take something from you, and once it's gone, you're dead. No one seems to see it happening. You might see, out of the corner of your eye, someone talking to someone, or perhaps kissing someone, in an alley, or dark corner. I'll see someone draining something out someone else, as if they were breathing in and taking away all the energy in them, all their thoughts, all their feelings.

So I make it a point to stop them.

I can see them in public, because their eyes are black. Empty. Like open, hungry mouths. They tend to work under the cover of night, but they're not like vampires. I see them riding the bus, walking through the park, at your work... you get the idea.
I don't think they're organized much. I don't think they meet. I've seen them cross each other's paths, and they seem to recognize each other, but they're like wild felines. They're out to fend for themselves. Or so I thought, until tonight.
I didn't see them coming. I was rushed by two of them into an empty parking lot underneath the raised highways of the city. Two more were waiting behind a giant concrete pillar.

They surrounded me and started to pummel me with their fists, and I went down. They kicked, and kicked, and kicked to the point I thought my rib cage was going to cave in. I tried to fight back, but they kept kicking me back down. Blood exploded and oozed from my mouth, dripping down, riding on my saliva. A boot connected with my left hand, and I felt one of my fingers snap, like a rubber band stretched too far. I screamed out at the pain. This was too much. I had gotten myself in too deep. They caught on to what I was doing, and they were going to kill me. I gave into the pain, I began to accept it. I saw death loom in the shadows, and I welcomed it closer.

But the old man's voice rang through my thoughts.

I grabbed some dirt and glass that was beneath my right hand, and rolled onto my back, throwing it as hard as I could into their faces.

I hit dead center on one, as the others shielded their eyes. I leaped through that brief window of opportunity and tackled the blind one. I lunged for his legs, and he fell backwards. I stumbled halfway through getting up, immediately shifted my weight over, and aimed my fast-falling elbow at his face. It connected directly to his nose, giving a most satisfying crunch.

I had a habit of breaking their noses. I hoped it was a habit I wouldn't break.

I was high off the adrenaline and the awe of my witty puns. I picked up a small rock and swung it up into the jaw of the next one that was running towards me, sending him sprawling to the floor.

My third and fourth attacker came towards me, and I struck my right fist towards one of them. He easily blocked it, but I was already sending my left thumb straight for his eye.

I held my breath, enduring through the pain of my broken finger. Just the vibrations from my thumb digging into his eye almost overcame my senses.

He threw his hand up at his gouged eye, yelling and grunting. I wasn't quick enough to dodge the fist of my fourth attacker. His knuckles dug into my chest, and didn't give me enough time to steady myself as another attacker, the one whom I had connected a rock to his jaw, got behind me and elbowed my spine between my shoulder blades.

I stumbled down to my knees, but I instantly kicked backwards as I tried to push myself back up.

The heel of my boot landed in his groin and he fell. He tried to get up, only to find gravity was still stronger then his lack of balance. Rock-jaw was down for the count.

The sound of feet shuffling turned my attention back to two other attackers. One-eye and Fourth guy were circling me, measuring me up, trying to psyche me out.

I had taken two down, but it had taken out a lot of me. One-eye would've been a fair fight, both of us tired. Fourth guy was still full of energy. Breathing was beginning to hurt.

Then clouds rolled across the sky, blocking the moonlight. The whole parking lot got much, much darker. Much darker then night can get.

Their hollow eyes took on a faint glow, and seemed much larger, almost the size of doorknobs.
I froze, not knowing what was going on... and I was even more shocked when they dropped to the ground.
The clouds rolled over, letting the moonlight show me four bodies, not moving, not breathing, not living.

I cradled my broken hand to my aching chest and left.

Tonight.

I heard the rain pouring out it's heavy heart onto the streets and alleyways tonight.

I stepped out onto my porch, watching the drops of water speed downward so fast, yet so quietly.

I looked out into the somewhat quiet city night, into my little corner of the alleyway, looking at the streams of water and it's criss-crossing across the imperfectly flat pavement, down to the sewers. I stared at the glow of the lamps, how they radiate slightly behind curtains of falling drops of water.

Heavy rain is so beautiful. At night, it steals my heart more than anything. The cool air, the glossing of everything it touches, the feeling on your skin, it's taste, and the way it brings out the smells, and the sound... oh, the sound. It's the most beautiful music I've ever heard. It is so loud and seemingly so quiet at the same time. Each drop is a minute sound, and the drops are innumerable. It's like a thousand whispers at once. I could listen to it's song forever.

But like all songs, it's only momentary, and it's gone.

The rain let up, and the magic left me.

The night was still cool, the air still beautiful, the sound still present... but fainter. Like the ending of a dream, when consciousness begins to seep in... it's the end of a moment. And it is fleeting. As with everything else in this universe, it gives way to the only constant, that of change.

I retreated inside to write these words down, to share with everyone who reads this what I've experienced, but also to remember that moment. To live and experience that is to release my mind into freedom. All pain and sorrow melts away and clears.

Though the moment is gone, I have the memory, so that I may crawl back inside of it.

When my mind has raged too hard, when my thoughts have derailed too deep into agony, I will have a place of peace, of serenity, of joy.

It is my retreat. My sanctuary.

Have you ever seen the rain?

I tried to calm my heart, to slow my breathing, to clear my thoughts. The rays of the sun were gently reaching for my face through dancing trees. It was calmingly peaceful, but mindfully distracting.

I had to clear my thoughts. You cannot force the world to resonate with your mind, you must let your mind resonate with the world.

I pushed thoughts out of my mind, I allowed myself to relax. I searched for not emptiness, but thorough and complete singularity. Udder surrender to everything around me.

I ceased worrying about those that were going to die. I no longer fretted over the consequences of my failure. I omitted fear, for losing, I omitted love, for those I feared losing, and my hate, for those who would lose me my loved ones.

I opened everything I was to everything that is.

I let the entire universe in, and my entire mind out.

And so it happened.

I could see between the smallest spaces, the smallest instances of time. I was open to the world, and it was open to me.

My eyes flew open, and I ran. I ran and I ran and I ran. My feet moved through the dirt, and the trees began to move. The world was opening. The universe was opening. I let my mind unravel further, and I could feel these thick vines of reality slipping from my body, trying to hold on.

The world continued to shift before my eyes.

Reality continued to slip, I continued to run.

The ground rippled beneath my feet.

A bright white light opened before me, and the whole world left from view.

I continued to run, to move between the molecules and the atoms and the stars and the thoughts of every single mind.

I focused on a single mind, one single soul that would flutter it's whimper across the eternal ocean of raging memories, ideas, and emotions. Eventually, throughout my searching, I could feel my thoughts resonate with whom I was looking for.

So I dove back into reality, ready to die to try and save those I loved.

(And I did save them, though not without a heavy price. Nothing is free.)