Face to Face

A Story by Laz K.

How do we fight our fears, our worse nightmares?

It’s twelve o’clock midnight - the end of another day, and the beginning of another night of torment. Irrational, uncontrollable fears crawls under my skin, my face muscles contract, as I’m trying to keep my eyes tightly shut. Lying in bed sweating, breathing heavily, I am paralyzed by fear. Voices ring out inside my head, screaming “Run! Get out! Get away from here, before it’s too late!” But, where would I run? What place is safe from what haunts me?

My breathing is shallow and rapid. The lights are on, because the darkness would only add to the unspeakable terror. I open my eyes slowly and stare at the door, which is securely locked - although I know very well that it will not stop that which I expect to enter my chamber tonight. Locked doors and windows could not keep it out for the last nine months, and they will not do so tonight.

The only movement now is at the underside of my wrist, at the spot where the skin is rising and falling with every frantic heartbeat. It’s like a wild beast thrashing against the bars of its cage. I recall the terror in the eyes of small wild animals I used to trap as a child. Their eyes were wells of deep, dark, primordial fear of the unknown, of a force they cannot contend with - that and the fire of instinct that cannot be confined, and would rather die than be caged.

Life is a series of cages within cages: the heart will beat against the bars of its dark, bony cell till it gives out; the mind restlessly seeks escape from its skull-shaped tower room; the body struggles to break free from the clutches of Time that tear at it daily.

My meditations are cut short by the sensation of a presence in my chamber: she’s here. Her essence is palpable in the air around me. A slight chill, an odor, ever so faint but detectable by the subconscious nevertheless let me know that my tormentor has arrived. Why won’t she stay dead?

Morning finds me exhausted. The dim sunlight outside has a strange, alien glow. My first thought is that I don’t belong to this world anymore, but I cannot cross over into oblivion either. I have become a dweller of the twilight zone. All day, my moods change quickly, like the weather in the seaside town where I had arrived three days before, hoping to settle my nerves.

I did not expect to get away from her when three days ago I packed a bag hastily and started driving, but I could not stay in my house any longer. I had to get away and give myself the illusion that I was moving away from something old and toward something new. But no matter how far I go, she’ll be there.

During the day, I sit by the window in one of the upstairs rooms of the only inn I could find. I’m staring out at the water that can go from sparkling blue to morose gray and back to a dark, murky color in rapid succession, without warning. The sky is painted with dramatic, wild brushstrokes and has been gray or black since I arrived, hiding the clear blue azure under thick layers of hopelessness and sadness.

Sometimes I doze off sitting there, and manage to get a few minutes of dreamless sleep. These are the only moments when I can find peace. I usually wake with a jolt and all my fears and my memories of the past flood back into my helpless, disturbed mind with full force.

How we met, how we fell in love, how we carried on a passionate affair and pledged never-dying devotion to each other are irrelevant details now. So is the way she died. After all, that is how all things are on this earth: things, people, and feelings come, stay a while, and then are gone. Or at least, that’s what she used to say - especially toward the end.

I resisted the idea; rejected the notion of impermanence, and sank my nails into what I believed to be true: “Where there’s a will there’s a way.” I reveled in the blasphemous idea of defying a cosmic, universal, natural law. In my blind arrogance and hubris, I vowed to bargain, cheat, fight, or somehow force our way out of the prison of rules, and laws - both natural and supernatural.

At the height of our passion, I believed we can create our own little, breakaway universe east of Eden, so to say, where man and God would both leave us alone, where we could be forgotten and left to exist, sustained by our love for each other.

When she went away, a part of me died with her. It is an accepted commonplace to say such things. But, what I meant to say was that there was only a small part of me that somehow managed to keep functioning, and thus to keep me alive. But, my soul was shattered and I had neither the strength, nor the willingness to pick up the pieces and to try to mend it. Then the visitations started.

I didn’t understand how it was possible, but through some irony of fate, this one wish, however unconscious and irrational it might have been, was granted to me. True, I wished nothing more than to have her with me still, to continue our godless, isolated existence in our self-created world, but this is not what I had in mind.

My grief, the unspeakable pain, the anger, the frustration, the sadness all coalesced into a dark, gyrating mass that swallowed everything that was good, hopeful, light and life-affirming. It outgrew the confines of my skin, and projected itself into the ether where it took on a form, a shape, and followed me, its creator, everywhere like a shadow. I created a golem, a phantom and this unholy creation was now preying on me nightly.

But, it will all end tonight. My health, my will, my sanity have been spent, and so I have decided to let it take me to whatever hell it will. I waited for nightfall with a mix of dread, terror and anticipation. I did not consume any food or water all day, but made preparations for what I believed to be my last day in the world of the living. I put on my best suit and lay down on my bed with my arms folded on my chest as if I were already in a coffin. Then, I waited.

I watched as darkness impatiently pushed the last rays of the dying sun out from my chamber. As light retreated, sinister shadows squeezed into every inch of the room filling it up to the brim. Perhaps all the dark matter seeped out from me through my every pore and buried me under its tremendous weight. It was like being buried alive, or like lying at the bottom of a pool of black water being unable to move.

All was quiet, asleep, dead. It was close to midnight, and I could hear the voices ringing alarm bells in my mind, “Run! Get out! Get away from here, before it’s too late!” It took all my willpower to force my eyes to stay open and face what was coming.

A slight breeze moved the ghostly white curtains, although the windows were closed. The single candle, the only light source in the room, flickered and I felt a chill, like a cold puff of air, or an ice-cold kiss on my neck. She has arrived. My eyes were searching the room, my chest was heaving, and cold sweat broke out on my forehead. I was still lying in bed, and I was about to jump to my feet, run to turn on the lights, the TV, run to the fridge to gulp down a bottle of hard liquor to escape the torment of consciousness. Then, I saw it.

It was hovering above me: a pale, luminous, transparent cloud whose shape resembled a human being. It was about as big in size as myself, faceless, but had protrusions like limbs, and something that looked like long, flowing white hair. I couldn’t move or scream.

My eyes were fixated on this apparition, the phantom of my unholy creation. It looked like the negative of a photographic image. The cloud-like substance was restlessly, rapidly changing color, going from luminous white to a smoky pale, milky color, flickering, turning black, and disappearing from my sight only to reappear again as if a light switch was being turned on and off. There were flashes of light inside it as well that looked like lightning strikes.

Then, the agitated, restless movement stopped, and it became still. The featureless face began to take on the likeness of a human face. The long, floating, hair-like strands were pulled back into the head; the cloud-like substance became denser to form eyes, a nose, and lips. It was becoming a familiar face, one I used to love to look at, one I adored while it was alive. It stared at me with big, black eyes that were both fearful and compassionate.

The cloud-like substance changed again, and a new face was being formed - a more terrifying face made of dark shadows, with flickering lights behind its hollow eyes, and a mouth that opened as if to scream. This new face that was full of pain, anger and sadness was also a familiar one: my own.

Then, this face disappeared too; the apparition lost its human form and became a thin, round disc. I saw movement, shapes, and colors projected onto this disc as if onto a movie screen. It was she and I on the day she left me forever. What unfolded was a story, our story, moving backward in time. I began to weep, tears streaming down my cheeks, wetting the pillow under my head as I watched us talking, driving, kissing, making love, drinking, arguing, walking, laughing, lost in each other’s eyes, blind and deaf to the world around us, wishing impossible things.

The moving images were nearing the first day we had met: the first time that sparkles lit up behind both our eyes, the first time life seemed beautiful, the first time we felt that anything was possible. The last image lingered on for a few seconds, showing two human figures frozen in time, at the beginning of their long journey together, then it disappeared, and the luminous disc began contracting, shrinking until it was no bigger than a marble that children play with. Once it reached that size, it stopped shrinking, stopped moving and just hovered in midair.

Then, it started descending, getting closer to me. It was now only millimetres from touching me. It sank into my body causing a burning sensation in the center of my chest. My skin looked like a crimson lampshade stretched onto my ribs. The bottomless emptiness I felt inside before was bathed in light and the feeling was painful but warm and pleasant at the same time. The light kept growing stronger, blinding me. Then, I blacked out.

The next morning I woke up with a smile - I couldn’t explain why, but I was smiling. Everything seemed in order in my room. Placing my hands on my chest, I gently rubbed the place where the luminous orb entered my body the night before. In flashes of memories I saw the orb burning its way through my chest and lighting up my torso from the inside, but I couldn’t be sure whether it was real or a dream.

Slowly, I got up, walked to the window, opened it, and looked out at an azure sea, sparkling under a clear blue sky. The dark clouds that had been hanging in the sky for the last couple of days had disappeared. There were people in the streets again: tourists taking pictures, or having their portraits done by artists sitting under colorful umbrellas; local fishermen coming back from sea; lovers standing on the shore hand in hand, looking far out to sea imaging a wonderful future. Some pigeons were packing at the remains of a hot dog bun next to a waste bin, and a cat lay lazily on the counter of the open-air bar downstairs.

I cannot say that I fully understand what had happened the night before, but I’d like to believe that I was given a second chance. It was an act of grace perhaps, or maybe it was that facing my own worst fears, I realized that what haunted me were those parts of me that I couldn’t or wouldn’t dare come face to face with. They were banished, expunged parts of me, and they longed to return to the place where they were made, where they belonged. Strangely, I needed them to make me whole again.

I ran from the ugly face of pain, the terrible reality of loss, and the dark, heavy shadows of finality. But, life contains all, and it seems that no matter how painful an experience might be, we must learn to accept it, and to recognize that they are us, too. I know that the road ahead will be hard. I still go weak in the knees at every thought of her, but the little light inside will keep the darkness at bay so that it won’t be able to overpower me. I was given a second chance. The rest is up to me.

© 2020 Laz K.

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Greg Gorman

I'm reading this story and I am wondering where you are. What is it that is causing you so much grief and pain and why do you insist on staying there? You have the lights on in the room for comfort. Why are the lights on? Are you letting the orb know where you are? Do you want it to easily find you? At first I thought the lights you have on for comfort should be turned off. Would that make it easier for you to sleep? Do you not want to sleep?
You talk about a series of cages. Some cages are prisons. Your heart is in a cage for it's protection. Or is the heart trapped just as your heart is trapped by the pain and angst? Is your body trapped in a cage created by your mind? Why are you thinking back to the animals now? Are you repenting? Is this your end and you are thinking about everything you've done and you want to make it right?
I like how you talk about trying to cheat the rules. Are you bargaining or is it denial? You have a good thing. You have a good person. You'll do anything to keep it. You'll do anything to make it last. Make any deal. You want back what is rightfully yours. She was taken away from you too soon. The hurt is more than you can bear. Nothing lasts but why couldn't this be different and last? Now, something is coming. You don't know what it is. This object coming for you. Are you scared or just mesmerized? I'm reading this and thinking, "Be careful what you wish for."
What are these voices telling you to leave? Are they regret? Second thoughts? As if you thought you were ready for this but not that it's happening you're not so sure. Now you are being reminded of the good times. Is this pain caused by the good times you know you're not getting back? Is the hurt compounded by the thought of what was yours and it isn't anymore? And what of these dark clouds Depression? Despair? Is this something that will help you in the long run but you don't want the pain. People take the bad and go with it. It makes them a better person. The negative doesn't define who we are.
What is the orb that entered you. Was it her memory? Her spirit? Are you suddenly inspired by her and what she meant to you?
This is great. You've encapsulated the emotions of losing someone. You put it into a timeframe of one night. That is very clever. There are some people who have wished pain and anguish would only last one night. Is this why it was so intense? It was in the frame of one night as opposed to multiple days and nights? Is that the tradeoff? It's only one night but, because of that what you feel will be more intense. A drink while you're in the middle of it to lessen the pain and numb you a little. You describe the raw emotions of a fresh loss. You talk about the suffering of losing someone. As the night goes on and gives way to daylight, you find the strength to move on. You realize you can live again and keep living. I hope someone who is suffering from a loss is lucky enough to come across this.