Perdition

This speaks for itself... kinda. I wrote it after watching Terminator 2 and becoming enthralled with the idea of death.

I wanted to tell you about it so badly. But your ebony hair is so lovely. Your perfect red lipstick gleams in the light of the afternoon sun, and your smile is melting my heart. Your curls are blowing around you and I am almost hypnotized by their sprite-like flicker.

A bright flash blinds me. It’s a monster of searing white heat. I am almost deafened by the supersonic blast. All I can see is a burning light, blindingly bright. In its core a volcanic heat burns white. A globe of molten energy moves, dashing the landscape to pieces. It absorbs rather than moves upon its victims, as though it were a cosmic force as opposed to a human-made weapon. Darkness envelops me utterly, devouring my being.

There you are in your richness, dear Carmen; just three steps away, but as I walk towards you the darkness begins to enwrap you, gorging itself upon your body before my naked eyes. Your luscious curls of ebony hair, your ruby smile so bursting with radiance, all torn to shreds of simple oblivion. Upon seeing your destruction, I let out a howl of terror, shaking the world around me.

The reality begins to break down and fade into the darkness, a sense of imbalance pushes me. I begin to fly from world to obscure world, images floating in and out of my consciousness. I hear a bell, the loud, repetitive kind, waking me from my slumber.

I no longer believe in the material world. There were some ancient people who believed that what we perceive as reality is simply an illusion; a falsehood created to trap us in its spell. They called it Maya. That is how I feel now. Maya has a sort of filmy translucent feel to her. I begin my morning routine, that rote ritual, feeling as though I am not truly present in it at all.

Am I simply a ghost traversing my hallways, unaware of the fact that I am dead?

“No!” I shout looking down at my hands, gripping them closed so tightly my fingernails dig in.

The pain seems real, and as a trickle of blood runs down my palms and splashes drops red richness on my pearly white carpet, I decide I am alive after all. I tell myself this, as I sit down to a bowl of cereal. I flip through the channels mindlessly. The narrators and canned laughter seem miles away, as though everything is covered with a sort of dark haze. The haze is like the blackness in my dream. I stop, effortlessly, on the only channel which catches my interest.

The newscaster groans through the headlines as though they are each a chore. He must loathe his job, constantly telling others that what he says is the truth, when at heart he really knows it isn’t. His pace changes and his hunched back begins to straighten as the headlines broach the subject of the war.

“The trade embargo imposed upon the Eastern American Corporate Republic has been met with heavy opposition amongst the middle classes, many of whom are calling for an all out nuclear attack.”

A blinding flash threatens to envelop me; clawing its way to the surface of reality. Breakfast threatens a return journey, as I grasp my cold, glass table to steady my trembling body.

“Only a dream, Wesley, nothing more,” My voice is a small affirmation of my corporeal presence.

My grip on reality returns, as my attention is caught by the flashing red light on my electromail box.

It is Carmen. Oh to hear that voice, that sighing, sweet misery. Its sultry richness pierces me to the core. All the while she is liltingly describing how she would like to meet me at the park near my house. I am to come before eleven, as the weatherman is forecasting rain this evening. My heart soars with joy at the possibility of even a moment with her.

***

As I walk the mystical pathway leading to the park, a soft sigh makes its way between my lips. The sun is beaming down, neither scorching me with its brightness nor chilling me with its absence. The spring air is ripe with luscious beauty.

I am past the houses now, making my way along the road that passes through the forest. Birds chirp as I pass, and the emerald branches of the trees flow in the light breeze. Their soft whispers lull me into sweet serenity.

Could there possibly be a better time to be alive?

The nation is free, my heart is full with the weight of new love, and my mind is clear. My thoughts drift towards the nightmarish ordeal I was subjected to this morning. The images float and flicker in and out of consciousness, and I decide that my ill manner was simply a result of the emotional experience.

As I walk, I hear a pitter patter of feet coming from inside the forest. Wild animals are sometimes known to dwell in these parts, but they seldom come out to the street, so my instinct is to simply walk away. But the pitter patter of the feet begins to encircle me, wrapping me in its spell. Long past the point of free will, I turn around looking through the thick trees.

Where is the apparition?

To my right a quick flash of black meets my eye. I turn to meet it.

A stray dog walks out of the forest. He is a gargantuan beast with fur as black as ebony, and eyes pure red, filled with hatred. His foaming mouth, bearing its teeth before our encounter, snaps shut. The silence is unnerving. Our eyes meet for a moment and it seems like we are connected as one being. I can’t move, can’t breathe all I can do is look into those eyes filled with the fervor of a wild stampede. A shiver runs up my spine, reanimating my once still feet. I run down the sidewalk, flanked on my right by the chilling emerald of the forest. He gives chase, following every step I take. I can’t be free of him, this ominous creature. No matter how fast I run he is still behind me, chasing me. It is almost like the chase is inevitable; at no point will I be perfectly free of this beast. He will follow me until the ends of the earth wherever I go.

“Cerberus, heel!” comes a young man’s voice from the wood.

Between the trees, I see a gentle-faced adolescent walking toward the dog, who has stopped on command. His tender eyes meet mine. Seeing that the dog has chased me, he comes over to provide some solace.

This is the first time I really get a good look at his face. His young, fair features seem older now, as though his youth was not real but simply an illusion. He walked with a small limp, something that you won’t easily find an adolescent doing. Something about the intensity of his eyes screamed wisdom. This man was no adolescent that much was for certain.

“He’s hard to get away from, I know.” He remarked as he finally reached where I stood.

“That he is, if it weren’t for you coming along and saving me I’d be minced meat by now.”

“Oh no,” he replied with a slight grin, “he looks fierce, and certainly it is in his nature to be so, but he is nothing to be afraid of.”

“Well, thank you just the same.”

“No problem. You have a good day.”

There is something odd about this experience; something that lingers beyond the initial point of reaction. I no longer feel refreshed and anew, something in me has changed. Something strange and ominous is pushing itself into the realm of reality, and has affixed itself onto my mind. It is like the oblivion in my dream has pushed itself to the surface and no longer can I sit by and ignore it. I must confront that which haunts and consumes me.

My mind drifts back to ebony hair and ruby lips, and the beginnings of a smile forms on my lips. There is reality and unreality. Perhaps this lingering abyss is a sign of lunacy creeping over my healthy mind; perhaps it is that which consumes all things in the end. No matter what it is, I can no longer dwell on it for I am nearing the park.

I feel light and funny, like a child at a carnival. Here I am at a simple park with my lover beckoning me forth. It is nothing special that which she has brought before me, simple egg salad sandwiches and grape juice. In my mind, it is a feast worthy of a President.

As I sit down, her luscious lips form a smile, and she embraces me, her beautiful bosoms pushing into my chest. I look into her eyes. They are deep, tranquil pools filled with emotion and strength.

“What took you so long, sweetheart?” she asks in a sultry smile.

“I had a run in with death.” My reply is meant to be sarcastic, but lingers on my mind in an unsettling way.

“How silly, here you are sitting here before me.”

“Yes. Here I am.” A smile forms on my lips.

We take out the sandwiches and eat in silence. Carmen has a way of making drab, bland food into beautiful works of art. Her flare comes not only from a personal passion for food, but also from her professional vocation as a chef.

She looks into my eyes, we’re finished eating now, and there is no barrier between us.

“If we were as one person, our hearts intertwined, as well as our thoughts and actions, would we meld together perfectly you think?” She asks this with all the innocence and beauty of a child.

“Absolutely flawlessly,” I reply.

Carmen’s eyes are aglow with the beauty of pure love. I want to kiss her, to hold her and meld our bodies into one. I think of her beneath me filled with lust.

The dream lingers in my mind, sticking, like a fly in the perfect honey of our love. I can’t seem to get it out of my mind. I want to tell her what happened, but her eyes are so beautiful gleaming in the light of the sun, and her ebony tresses are blowing through the wind in perfect formation. I cannot take my eyes off of her, until, like a tornado coming through the sky, there is a blinding flash in the periphery. Our faces light up in the afternoon sun as our hearts melt before us.

The volcanic white heat descends upon us instantly filling us with terror. The white hot core of the mushroom cloud fills my heart with dread.

A black dog is bounding towards us, coming upon us as the white heat rushes. His blood red eyes are boring into me, father than any other being has gone. He’s almost upon us now, and I shield Carmen from his cold embrace. The oblivion rises from him, shadows alive with their own will. When he is upon us we are enveloped in darkness, lifeless and cold.

***

I am free from Maya now. I can travel in the wind, swaying whichever way I might. I am no longer fettered by work, government, even individuality. Though I have no actual presence, I am part of a whole, the whole, the source of all things. I am intertwined as one flawless being with the whole of man.

© 2011 Alexander Mccarthey

Author's Note

I was trying to think of some interesting story ideas when I wrote this. I wanted to write a story that talked about death and the afterlife modeled after Philip Pullman's version of the afterlife in, "The Amber Spyglass." I also watched "Terminator 3" the first time that day. I loved the image that they always show in the series of Los Angeles being bombed and destroyed it always stuck with me. I'm very enthralled with the idea of death and how people face. What they feel when they're facing it. Whether or not a person is accepting of it. I think that death shows a character's priorities and what they hold true. I wanted to showcase those questions in the form of a story. I think that's what this story really is, is me showcasing those questions.