Saturday, June 15, 2013

Illumination (the end?)

I finally managed to finish this dream story.  The second half took me quite a bit longer, as I knew it would.  The ending (?) of this story was not entirely clear to me in my dream due to the fact that I woke up terrified at the part where the character (I?) came to full realization.  However, because I woke up, I was never able to truly understand what that realization was.  So, the ending on paper was a little tough.  That's why this is titled with a question mark, because I'm not entirely sure that is supposed to be the end of the story.  At any rate, I finished it, and that in itself is a big accomplishment for me as a writer!



 





nother day marked off in this dark and lonely place, and another day with no contact from the Hims.  There had been one change to my routine, however.  Three days ago, a dog, a golden retriever, showed up in my space.  I wasn’t sure where he had come from as there were no obvious exits or entrances.  Of course, there must be some way to come and go as evidenced by the attendants that sometimes worked the counter.  At first, I wasn’t sure what to think of the dog’s arrival.  Something about its presence felt wrong and contrived.  It was a friendly enough dog, and was always nearby; the epitome of a faithful companion.  Over time, I accepted its presence as another of the quirks of this enigma I lived in.  
A distant fluttering noise caught my attention.  The dog lifted its head and perked its ears to listen, but I knew immediately what it was.  With uncertain regularity a helicopter would fly in low as though the occupants were checking in on me.  I always watched it from the one window in the room.  It is strange to really even call it a window since there was no view to be seen from it except when the helicopter flew past.  The rest of the time, the space on the wall covered by the dark curtain was equally as dark. 
I moved to the window, the dog close on my heels and pushed the curtain slightly to the side to see out.  The darkness was pierced by the helicopter’s spot light.  As it came closer, the light grew brighter and hurt my eyes.  The spot light raked the darkness, but no formations were lit up.  My eyes searched for some sign of another building or person, or even a tree in the dark landscape, but as always there was nothing to be seen but the helicopter and its light. 
The helicopter’s tail swung around as it came close to the window, and then I saw something I had never seen before.  It could have been a light anomaly, but I instantly knew that could not be the explanation.  All the times I had watched the helicopter fly past, there had never been a new detail to notice, and the darkness around the helicopter seemed to swallow up any stray light beams.  What I saw was what I can only explain as a crack, but not a physical crack.  It was more like a digital crack in the tail of the helicopter, the edges shaped like little squares – pixels.  Before I could determine anymore, the helicopter had flown away, leaving the window in darkness once again.
I let the curtain fall back into place and turned to find the dog staring at me with something like a quizzical look, head cocked to the side.  Its appearance unnerved me, as though it were analyzing my reaction to the helicopter.  In its eyes, I could almost see a reflection of light, although the light sources in the room were dim and hidden, and I had never seen another reflection anywhere in the room.  It padded over to me and nuzzled my hand, looking for a pat, then walked past and headed toward the black hole room.  It stopped on the threshold of the room and looked back at me, tail wagging.  I had no desire to go near the room, not wanting to experience the strangling feeling I always got from it, but just as I determined to turn and walk back toward the counter, something in the blackness of the room made me stop and stare.  It was a pinprick of light. 
I was momentarily stunned by the tiny illumination.  One anomaly I could dismiss, but two – one right on the heels of the other – this was something unusual.  I stepped hesitantly toward the room.  The palpable humming coming from it tuned in to the beat of my heart.  Fear rose up in my chest and sat heavy in my stomach but I continued to move forward, determined to find out once and for all the mystery of this room.  Slowly, I crossed into the room and the stranglehold on my throat began.  My head swam, my breathing became labored, my limbs felt heavy.  Still I moved forward against the push.  The pinprick of light had grown and was now pulsing to the beat of my heart along with the incessant hum.  I continued pushing against whatever force in the room wanted me to back away.  My breathing was so cut off by the strangling feeling that I was choking for air, but I would not back down.   The light grew in size and I felt I could almost reach out and touch it.  I knew if I could just get a few steps closer I would have it.  My legs resisted, heavy as they were, but with all my effort I pushed my whole body forward as far as I could.  I could no longer breathe, and I felt my head swim and pricks of pain behind my eyes.   My body leaned forward as I tried in vain to reach for the light, my arm feeling as though it was held down by weights.  And then just as though someone had flipped a switch, the entire room was filled with blinding light and I fell forward, no longer tethered by the invisible force.  I felt myself falling into the light and there was nothing to catch my fall. 
In that moment, memories came flashing back too quickly for me assimilate.  They were little beams of light illuminating the darkened corners of my mind.  I could see a house, a family, a farm, horses and an old tractor.  Then I saw another bright light in a darkened sky and felt myself immobile, heard myself crying.  After that there were strange eyes looking at me; two pairs.  Hands moved over my body but I couldn’t move.  I cried but no noise came from my mouth.  One pair of eyes gazed at me with…sympathy?  The other eyes only seemed knowing.  How I could gather such emotions from only eyes confused me.  Finally, there was only darkness and quiet.  I opened my eyes to find myself sitting just outside the doorway of the black hole room.  The dog lay nearby, head resting on his feet. 
I looked around me at the only room I thought I had ever known.  It had an appearance of normalcy and rhythm, but contrived and wooden, as though such things were foreign to the creators of the mirage.  I searched my mind for memories, and found that they had been returned to me.  The light in the room had given them back.  As my mind brushed tentative fingers over still new memories of the past, realization struck.  In this artificial environment I was nothing more than a test subject, a lab rat. 
My chest constricted, a sob escaped my lips and I whispered “I know who he is.”  No one was there to hear me.  I said a little louder “I know who he is!” becoming frantic now as I realized my situation and how desperate it was. 
I scrambled to my feet, my eyes searching the darkened room for anyone to listen.  I ran around the room, searching the walls for an exit, feeling more trapped by the minute.  The words forced themselves even louder from my throat “I KNOW WHO HE IS!!” 
Then I turned and saw the dog still sitting quietly by the black hole room and his eyes were lights that grew brighter by the moment, illuminated I knew by the truth that had finally been shown to me.  His eyes grew brighter just as the light in the room had, and I was swallowed up in them, screaming.  I had finally found my escape. 

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