There is, and always has been two worlds, and in the centuries man has existed, very few have had the fortitude to walk them both. This is the story of one such traveler.
The boy was alone in his room, the lights off, and his shades drawn. He loved the intoxicating darkness. He knew that to be here was to be ready to go to the other place. This other place is only two steps away when he’s in this room. He took the first step.
The Outside was dark, but he knew it would be. He preferred the darkness; it left him feeling cold. There was also the force, an almost sentient thing that pressed in on him on all sides. The Pressure pushed down only hard enough to cause discomfort, for it did not want to cause its victims pain, no, it wanted to lull them into a false sense of security, like a poisoned lullaby. This almost dreadful pain had become his sick pleasure. He knew that one day this place would draw him in and he’d never be able to leave, but he continued his visits regardless.
In The Outside the boy thought up things that would make the average person’s blood run cold in their veins. At his tender age he became the deepest thinker of his time. His thoughts were colors in this other place. The boy loved the freedom this blank canvas left him. Instead of drawing upon a white slate this boy worked on a black surface to make it all the more vibrant. He became used to the cold of this other world and when he returned to Home he always felt feverish, even the coldest day in Home could not match the bone chilling cold of The Outside.
He saw the beauty of Home, for it was a warm place where even the most horrible of men were swaddled in the deep, nurturing, love of a mother. Home was also stunningly beautiful; almost no shadows existed there, a place that existed almost without fear, pain, hunger, or famine. The average boy felt immense joy in this, a joy akin to euphoria. Our boy instead felt disgust at such a weak place, a place where intelligence was greatly ignored and innocence was the norm, not the exception. He could not stand the naivety of it all.
He continued his visits to The Outside, drawing great masterpieces of thought while he was in the darkness and cold. He understood things that the “adults” of Home had been fighting over for as long as man had existed. He uncovered vast, hidden, secrets. Whatever god there is in that dank, cold, and lifeless place had obviously touched this young boy’s heart, and frozen it in his chest. Perhaps he could have been saved, if he had just waited longer between. Instead his visits increased in frequency and duration. Damning him to a fate worse than death.
One day the boy took the steps necessary to go to The Outside. He had just returned to his sanctuary after a day worse than most. His father had gotten that glint of rage in his eyes- the glint that only comes when he’s on one of his benders. He grabbed the boy and threw him into the nearest wall, causing dust to fall from the sheetrock. The boy had taken it, with no emotion in his eyes, which only infuriated his father to a point beyond measure. ¨What makes you think you’re better than me you worthless piece of shit!?¨ He had screamed. Even in his normally sobering rage, he had slurred his words. His father had slapped him and returned to his stupor. The boy went to The Outside, but today he felt none of its normal comfort. He only felt the true horror of this place, and for the first time questioned his motives for returning to this place. He no longer loved the Pressure, instead it terrified him in all its monstrosity. He knew he had to leave; this place had poisoned his heart, he had to go. NOW. He took the first step and almost took the second. He saw Home, in all its splendid glory, but he also saw all that was wrong with it. He looked behind him and saw The Outside, a stark contrast to the heavenly scene in front of him. He took a step.
This step took him directly to his left, for he knew that those two worlds were no longer his to walk. He looked behind him and almost screamed when he saw the glow. He looked closer and saw it was in the slightly deformed shape of his feet. He walked on, believing he was now ready for the surprises that awaited him.
He had been walking for a time, perhaps it had only been a minute, perhaps days. He had no way of knowing if it was day or night. The boy had originally been terrified, but had quickly realized that this place, a place he had begun to know as Inbetween, was outside of either worlds’ time. He simply dragged on, his only way of knowing that he’s progressing was seeing one foot go in front of the other. He had noticed the floor for the first time since he had begun to walk the endless plains of Inbetween, that the floor was a gritty, sand-like gray material that was displaced with each step he took. There had been times when he thought he had seen a huge figure in the distance. He quickly dismissed this as a hallucination from the exhaustion he must be feeling. It must be fake, he told himself, nothing but shapes made by my tired mind. Only, he didn’t feel tired, hell, he didn’t feel anything really. He ignored his momentary discomfort and kept walking ahead. One foot in front of the other.
After a great many steps the boy saw that the looming shape in the distance was growing, which disproved his earlier belief that it was simply a hallucination. He made it his landmark and he began trudge his way towards it. As he got closer he realized that what he had been seeing was a tower that kissed the sky of this desolate place. With each step he took he uncovered another secret. First that it seemed to go on forever, second it was made entirely out of a stone that is black as night, and third, that it looked as though it was nearing the end of its existence.
He arrived at the tower with growing anticipation, perhaps he would find someone to share his time with, or maybe a terrifying monster. Either way, he believed he was prepared to face what awaits him inside. Walking up the stone steps he noticed that none of the gritty material that makes up the ground of Inbetween had found its way onto the stone. He approached the great wooden door, a door so large it should have taken six men to push it open, but when the boy pressed upon its surface it swung open on well-oiled hinges as if it weighed no more than a feather.
The interior was dimly lit, the light seeming to come from nowhere. The stone was oppressing, making the boy feel true claustrophobia for the first time in his life. He enjoyed it, for it reminded him of The Outside before he had realized the pure poison that world is. The tower was not furnished, it only had small alcoves from time to time where one could rest. The boy felt the stone and it began to steal his heat almost before his skin ever touched it. He knew what this place was, he knew it was the anchor for the two worlds, a place that has certain characteristics of each of the two worlds. As soon as he entered the tower he had felt an almost loving embrace, not quite that of a parent, but that of maybe an uncle or aunt. He was weary of this place forever, he had learned his lesson since The Outside and had no ambition to repeat his previous mistake. The boy spent a time inside the tower, again there is no way to truly measure time Inbetween, but knew to leave once his heart grow cold.
Making his way away from the tower, and the footprints he had left behind, the boy contemplated the existence of such a place. He wondered silently if it could fall, surely not, if it fell the two worlds would surely be doomed to collapse under their own weight. He knew however, that the tower had seemed to be on its last legs, and worried for the future of the worlds regardless of whether he inhabited either any more. It never occurred to him, however, that the Inbetween would suffer as a result of a collapse as well.
It was many steps later when he met the other. He had been terrified out of his mind when he had seen their shapes, for he now knew to trust his eyes in this place. As they neared one another he saw it was a man and a child, this man was obviously not the father of the child, but looked at it with love akin to that of one. As they neared each other the boy cried out, “Hey, HEY! Are you real!?” The man appeared not to have heard the boy for a time, but the he replied, “Boy if you don’t shut your damn trap I’ll leave the kid here and throw you into the darkness of Oblivion.”
“Is that what you call it?” The boy questioned
“What?”
“The dark place, Oblivion, I call it The Outside.”
“Humph, good enough name as any. Now get away from us and walk, do your best to forget us if you can, and if you can’t don’t look for us.”
“But..”
The man and the child walked away, and the boy noticed that their footprints glowed a different color than that of his own.
That was, and remains to be his only encounter with other people in the Inbetween. He stood there looking in the direction of the slowly shrinking shapes, he did this until the were but mere specks on the horizon. He slowly turned around and continued his journey forward into the unknown. Never to see the man and child again.
After a few steps the boy broke down sobbing. He had no warning it was coming, but at the same time he knew it must, for how could one not cry after all he had been through? The pure injustice of what had happened to one so young burned through his veins. The tears he cried burned like acid. His throat hitched, trying to force up the pain that had encompassed him. He almost wished for his father’s beatings, anything would be preferable to the solitude of this place. He lost what he thought what was all of his innocence while he sobbed. He was wrong of course, there is always a little more innocence left to lose.
The boy decided to return to the tower. To him it was his only home, his only constant. He followed his footprints, and noticed that he had been lazily creating arcs in the gritty material, like he had been drunk. I’m just as bad as Dad ever was, he thought, and I’m not even drunk. Shaking his head, he moved forward, impatient to be at the only place he believed he could ever call home.
As he grew closer to where he believed the tower stood he noticed that he could not see the behemoth. He became worried, and for the first time since he had begun to walk, he ran. The boy ran as if his life depended on it, like all the hounds of hell were at nipping at his heels. With each stride he grew closer to knowing what he already believed, that the tower was no more, that some terrible force had finally collapsed it, like a child with their toys.
Arriving at the stone steps he saw a large shape, yes, but it was not that of a tower, it was that of a mountain of rubble. Rubble that seemed as black as night, and that stole heat from the bodies of young boys. His face burned with fury. The only place that could have become a home had crumbled while he was away. The dust entered in his nostrils, stinging them; he welcomed the pain as an escape for this hateful reality. His face felt the unfamiliar wetness of tears. He wanted to scream, but knew there was no sympathy, and no one who cares in this unforgiving land of Inbetween.
2 comments
too short.
Why thank you