A Fatherly Feeling

An unfortunate place can bring unfortunate surprises, but for this unfortunate boy, death can only go so far.

    Cold ice pressed against my skin, numbing it almost entirely, the frostbite chewing at my fingers like mice on cheese, and my bones felt more like an exoskeleton rather than human remains. Eyes closed with an expression so solemn, I almost unconsciously reached out, searching for warmth or so much as a hand to hold, but all I found was the freezing air that lingered so still it almost seemed captured in a moment in time. Was I dead? The question stuttered in my mind but there was a clear answer. One no usual human being would like to answer but I was not human anymore. I wasn’t even “being.”

Of course I was dead. Why wouldn’t I be? It’s what I’ve been longing for since the first day of a long five years. Five years of suffering in the hospital, barely breathing, barely kicking, until I could no longer take the agony of a single breath or the misery of living in a moment where nothing seemed real. Did anyone mind? Was anyone mourning my passing? I was hoping not. I wouldn’t want that to happen to anyone. If I was dead then why was I still conscious? Was this what many would call a restless soul? Why couldn’t I linger? My thoughts were cut to black when the faint vibrations of footsteps sent electricity throughout my body.

I wasn’t in a coffin, nor was I in a freezer. I was in some sort of cave. Someplace dark with icicles and black walls. The rocks, covered in dripping water, freezing at the tips, and then melting again to the ground. The dark shadow that hovered among me mocked me with the intention of blinding me and keeping me trapped with nowhere to run. My body, so steady, so stiff, so frozen, shouting for warmth and strength when it’s so feeble and empty. My veins had run cold long ago and now I was but a carpet of snow lying quietly in a dark night with the sky a black hole that wanted to embrace me. There were no stars, no clouds, no trees or sun, not a living animal in sight, and no place to call home.

It was just me, the black hole that was the midnight sky, and the rocks with edges rigged and ice freezing over them with the soft drips of the water sliding down the sides of my face. I was a cold stream below a dark willow tree. I was the flat ground trapped beneath a sea of ice too dark to call beautiful. Was this death too dark to call beautiful? The footsteps drifted along the silence, it’s drawn out thuds commemorating and singing to me of my life. They reminded me of my father’s footsteps down the hallway from my bedroom. They always approached my door so gently before he entered my bedroom and said good night.

I hoped he wasn’t the one to mourn me. This darkness reminded me of the shadow that loomed over our family when I became ill. It’s just as Hozier says, “I was born sick, but I love it,” but who could commend me to be well? My father certainly thought I was strong and could survive such a fate, yet here I was. My very own sea of black ice to drown me in insignificance and memory. The thought of my father’s tears shedding over my grave, already dug, shallow with the disturbed earth screaming my undeniable presence.

I was an eggshell with nothing but dark matter inside. I had collapsed on myself like a supernova buried in the depths of deep space and I knew that I no longer had the strength to live. What was life? A simple concept? A complex mathematical equation that no one could quite solve? A shifted balance in space and time that would soon circulate and confuse itself? It would die out and explode into millions of small fragments that would scatter across the universe like marbles falling out of a bag and soon drift into the abyss until they either burn up or find a new home. Was I in the midst of the explosion and those fragments of myself were leaving me bit by bit?

I opened my eyes to listen to the fading footsteps and to stare intensely into the welcoming darkness. I wanted to kiss it, embrace it, hold it in my hands and watch as it seeps through my fingers and fills me with it’s black substancy. I wanted to move my body freely through it and remember every last portion I had of myself. Every moment I have ever loved and cherished was in the cover of this immense darkness and all I had to do was dance through each and every one of them. All I had to do was listen as the whispers of my sisters and brothers and friends and even those I barely knew or didn’t know at all creep into the cave and bounce off of it’s rock walls.

I had to watch the scenes play out before me, like a stage play being acted out right before my very eyes, a play only for me, and a play I could remember from long ago. I was reading my own biography as it’s pages flipped before my fingers could even reach the velvet spine of the book. The book would turn black and shred into thousands of pieces in only moments, only to disappear and burn in the age of the universe, so I had to read every word of it while I still could. My older sister, screaming at me to leave her alone. My mother, shaming me. My father, taking his last step before entering his car and driving far off into a land of nowhere.

My brother, shoving me into the wall and burning my cheek with the tip of his cigarette. My little sister, so sweet and playful, crying for her father as I hold her. My book was a dark red and dripped with the blood of my family, but I was the dead one. I had destroyed them and this was my punishment for doing so. I was a terrible son and a terrible brother with the scar on the right side of my face and the tears staining the pure white of my eyes with pink and red to prove it. My face as pale as the phasing moon, my limbs as weak and thin as twigs, my hair a curly mess of dark noir, my lips pale from barely eating a thing all day, and the only expression I could pull off was the look of my eyes looking forward and my lips shut with a frown.

I was as sick as everyone believed me to be. My mother had been right since the very beginning. I was a fatal wound in everyone’s flesh and all I could do was bleed out and bring them hell. This didn’t feel like hell to me. This felt as though I was just a small particle dancing in a universe of black and grey, bound to be torn apart and bound to cease to exist. Was I really okay with that? I suppose I didn’t really have much of a choice. Everyone has to go through this and this was just my chance to welcome it. I have feared it for so long and yet here I was, lingering in it like a lost leaf that has departed from it’s tree and, most importantly, without fear.

I began to take on movement. Signs that I was now an animated object with the skeleton and flesh like a human but the transparent and ghoulish figure of a dead man. Was I a man? A boy would suit me better in this moment. New to a world and curious of it’s offerings as if I had emerged from beneath the ground only a moment ago, but I was not a boy either was I? I looked like a boy and acted like one, but I was nothing. A speck of dust struggling to glisten in a ray of sunshine when in reality, there were thousands crowding for the spotlight and I was left behind in their shadows. My soft and delicate body drifting along the windows like a feather in the wind only to be destroyed by the gusts of trees and rain.

Soon to be forgotten. Soon to be dealt with. Soon to be gone for the longest of eternities. There was no wind in this particular cave, as it seemed, and I came to the conclusion that the cave must have been a delusion. My own mind was killing itself from the inside out and wanted to fish out it’s last thoughts and moments before it’s decease. How generous of it to give me one last dose of a proper dream. I ran my fingertips along the wet rocks of the walls, feeling my way around for an exit, but this cave was infinite. It’s passageways twisted over one another and every time I tried to weave myself out through a new and more promising one, I returned to my original place, puzzled by the maze before me.

I was alone in a separate universe where darkness never struck light and light never painted darkness and it’s cave walls so infinite that they brought you to places that felt entirely different every time. One room smelled of roses while the next smelled of freshly cut grass. I entered a new room with it’s echo much stronger and it’s walls much wider than the rest. It spun around me as if I was in the eye of a storm, but that was only in my head. The room couldn’t move but in my mind it was dancing. It was circulating around me so viciously it hissed and moaned and I covered my head as I prepared for them to collapse and for the ceiling to strike me, breaking my bones and shredding my skin, but only silence followed.

I turned to seek an exit, hoping that it wasn’t far, only to stretch my fingers out and touch the softest material I had ever laid hands on. It felt rich and heavy but so wonderful. I pressed my hand against it to see if it would move, but instead, I felt something pressing against the fabric on the other side. I pressed my hands harder only to feel the bumps of a ribcage and the soft breathing of a pair of lungs. I paused, my throat suddenly growing sore, and removed my hands from the fabric. I lifted my head, expecting the harsh punch of my brother or the slap of my mother for being so rude as to touch another human being so disrespectfully, but instead, I felt a hand press itself into my left shoulder.

It’s warm touch filled my body with heat and life, as if it was invigorating my very being and bringing color to my cheeks. It was giving me life. I felt as though I wanted to live! I felt the freedom and gratitude of this man’s touch and he felt my empty soul, so drained and troubled, and his smile dug through the darkness with it’s pure white! I heard his gentle voice whisper from above my head with such calm words that I felt as though I was being blessed.

“Come with me boy. If you cannot see now then let’s see together. I will be your new father and I will raise you the way he should have. We will see the distant mountains of other worlds and you will feel my presence through it all” and with that, the voice faded and it’s footsteps echoed back through the passageway. There was a lump in my throat, the kind of lump that remains wedged in your lungs even after your hands stop shaking and your mind is clear. The kind that no gift or celebration could compare to. His warmth and life was his gift to me. I had to cherish it even though it was never mine to possess.

I followed the sound of the footsteps through the passageways, twisting and turning into completely new rooms without realizing where the hell I was going. I just smiled to myself, remembering what it felt like to have a hand on my tiny shoulders, a figure to look up to, and sweet words to listen to silently as I let every syllable sink in. I was filled with excitement and joy and I had no idea why! It was like no other emotion I had ever felt before. A completely abandoned side of my mind I had not dared to explore until now.

It had been buried so deep that I didn’t even know it existed. This shiver of delight came to a slow close when a doorway was revealed to me. It was not a doorway that was very pleasant to look at however, for when I spotted it, I felt as though I was about to be sick. It looked like any other doorway at first, lined with intriguing carvings and stone, but perched on the front of the door was something most foul. A bird with it’s wings pinned to the wood of the door, it’s beaked slightly hanging open, it’s feathers rough and scattered as if blown by a storm, and it’s legs had been cut off.

“I’m sorry you had to see such a disturbing sight” the voice of the man startled me and almost threw me off balance. I looked away from the bird and instead looked back into the darkness of the cave. This was my only way out and yet I was still cowering towards the only darkness I knew. My own. The voice continued, it’s footsteps could be distinguished from the sound of my horror, and I listened as it began to open the door. It’s hinges creaked with age and the sound of a shivering wind waved through.

I was trembling, not only in disgust, but in the cold air that just entered the room so quickly. I turned around, trying to recollect myself, and found the sight of a tall man staring down at me. He was tall enough so that the top of his hat was grazing the cave ceiling, his skin was pale as the cloudy sky, he wore a long black coat that almost reached his ankles and beneath it was a pair of black boots that looked as new as the day. He was smiling so handsomely. His lips stretched across his face, dimples dug into his cheeks, and his eyes lit like christmas lights at the sight of my presence.

He knew that I could see him clearly now, and honestly, by the looks of his combed black hair and thin figure that made his legs look long, he was almost like a butler. The only difference was that a butler would usually serve a master, but this one seemed to roam freely. The fabric of his coat swayed in the wind the door so kindly invited in and he seemed to be awaiting my companionship. I complied, allowing myself to breathe much fresher air than any cave could have offered, and stepped forward, wondering where my feet may be leading me, but anywhere other than the darkness sounded perfect to me.

Beyond the door stood the most wonderful yet depressing sight I had ever seen. The sky was filled with grey and the sun was not shining, but there was mountains and rivers and forests and villages and horses pulling carriages on every path and oh those paths! They twisted and ran along the hillsides and through the houses and weaved silently into the distance where they disappeared along the horizon. The trees, most bare but some still had leaves, stretched in every direction, waving hello to us, and finalising the scenery with their long branches.

The people that I saw walking along the paths were wearing clothing that was mostly dark, some shredded, and they didn’t exactly seem poor but they seemed almost gothic. Their dresses hanging down to their ankles looked as though they belonged in funerals, their hats were big and fashionable but for the women, many had flowers such as roses or daisies but they too were mostly dark colors. The men wore top hats and bow ties that were all the same and everything seemed just so dark and depressing, but the scenery was beautiful. I had never seen anything like it.

“This way” the man spoke and shewed me towards a separate path that seemed to lead straight into the village. We began to walk down into it, the path growing wider and wider the more we walked. It almost seemed as though we would walk forever! Every second ticked like minutes and every minute was a struggle to continue onto the path. I did not even know why I was here or who this man was or where I was going, yet I still walked on. Every step felt like I was lifting and dropping water buckets and every breath of fresh air felt so unreal. This air couldn’t have existed.

These houses and people could not have existed without some way to copy the way that the surface of the Earth looked. It was practically impossible. How could this be here? Just how?

“What is this place?” I finally asked, my curiosity speaking for itself. The man smiled, barely holding in his excitement. He seemed to be very happy about the question.

“This is where all the dead go. Well, not all of them. Only those that have done something terribly wrong. It’s like hell but without the eternal torture” he replied calmly. Hell? Eternal torture? Dead? Those words shook my faith. I was dead, in hell, and there was no eternal torture? No punishment? Then what was the point? Were we just being disposed of?

“You mustn’t worry. This is a place for you to learn the morals of this world. Here, the only punishment is leaving” He smiled but I wasn’t feeling very comforted. At least it’s better than staying in that cave for the rest of eternity. The winds howled between the bare branches of the trees and grazed my clothes as if trying to rip them apart. It was freezing cold and I had not even a jacket. The man soon realized my discomfort and proceeded to remove his coat. I insisted that he keep it but he didn’t want me to catch a cold.

I clutched the coat close to me as it’s warmth pressed against my bare skin. I thanked him and pulled the coat collar over my ears to warm them. He seemed to smirk at that. How amused he must have been to see a new comer wearing his coat. I wondered what his plan was.

“Who are you?” I asked, only just realizing now how rude the question really was, but I was never raised in a place with very much etiquacy. Where I lived, there were drunk old men talking madness in the streets, kids smoking cigarettes in parking lots, students rebelling, people not caring, and all of that negative nonsense that no one could have ever dreamed of coming true a century ago.

“I am sure that you have heard of a man named Lucifer?” the man spoke forwardly. I shook at the name he spoke so bluntly. Lucifer? Like Satan? I began to feel my hands trembling but I kept them close together in an attempt to look calm when really I was screaming and running and crying on the inside. However, I wanted to hear the rest of what he had to say.

I gulped.

“Yes.” The only word I could manage at this time. My voice felt weak and childish but I wasn’t in the mood to just power through anything. Especially my own afterlife. Or was I still dying? Yes. I will just assume that I’m almost dead and dreaming. That this would be my last straw.

“I am one of his few butlers. I take responsibility over welcoming the newcomers into their new home and showing them around. Once I am finished giving them a tour, I lead them to the castle where they will meet their trial and-” he stopped mid-sentence.

Trial?!

Author's Note

I've decided to split this chapter in half since I only just realized that it's about 10 pages long. I hope it isn't too bad!