Into the Darkness – Part 4

Standing at the mouth of the entrance, he stared back into the depth of th tunnel, taken aback by how it could exist. Thinking his mind was playing tricks on him, he walked around the arch to look at the other side again. On the other end, he could see right through the arch to the illuminated forest beyond. He walked through the arch again and when he turned around, there it was, the entrance to the tunnel.

The existence of a tunnel like this shattered all known physical laws and he was unable to comprehend how it could be. He repeated this action of walking around the arch and through it several times, trying to catch the moment when it would shift from emptiness to entrance, without any luck, and finally resolved to sit in front of the opening and stare into it in bewilderment. He had not the strength to go explore the tunnel so he sat and stared.

The tunnel walls were composed of threads, yarn like and fibrous, that spiraled and spindled around, forming a maelstrom that wound deep into the void. With the lights from the clearing, he could see far back into it. The tunnel curved gently to the right for a distance, and took a sharp turn to th left at about where the tree line should be.

He understood there would be no finding his way back through the forest and his curiosity wouldn’t allow him to leave without knowing where this tunnel led to. After an extended time of staring, he mustered all the courage he could, pushed himself up, and set off to explore this impossible passage.

Into the Darkness – Part 3

The clearing was round in shape and about 100 yards in diameter. At its center was a circular, free-standing stone arch. As he grew nearer to the arch, he found it peculiar that it was able to remain standing. The stones that should have served as its foundation were hardly underground and positioned at the arch’s center, there was no lateral bracing to resist strong crosswinds, and no mortar to bond the joints of the stones. Gravity somehow held those large stones in their shape, but it also felt like gravity had assistance from some unknown force.

When he reached the arch, he saw that it was much larger than he originally suspeced, about 12 feet at its head height, and each stone was over 18 inches thick and a couple feet deep.

Running his hand along the face of the stones, that ancient surface covered with moss and darkened by its age, he felt surprised to have never learned about this monument before. It was matching in magnificence to any other structures constructed by ancient civilizations. Had he discovered it? he wondered.

He stood under the center of the arch and followed its form, sweeping above his head. A feeling of unease settled over him as he studied the arch soffit, failing to comprehend how these massive stones didn’t come loose and crush him where he stood.

This uncomfortable notion pushed him to step through to the other side of the arch. When he turned to study it further, he could no longer see through the arch to the woods beyond. What lay before him now was the entrance to a tunnel.

Into the Darkness – Part 2

In that darkness, he grew to be more and more on edge. It wasn’t just the loss of vision that struck him, the silence there was all consuming. The utter absence of sound shook him to his core. There was nothing to be heard. No rustling from leaves blowing. No straining or creaking of branches as they swayed. No creatures calling out. No birds chirping. And not even the defining resonnace of insects singing through the night. Even his breathing seemed to fall short and come out muted. It was the absence of sound that also caused him to notice the lack of air movement. No wind whatsoever.

It was in this moment, devoid of all senses, that he was quickly approaching a mental breakdown. Complete nervous exhaustion. And at this precipice of panic, a small flashing light caught his attention out the corner of his eye. He saw it again. A glowing dot hovering in the air. Illuminating and just as suddenly, fading away. Then there was another. And another. Until the distance was ablaze with these tiny flickering lights. The sight gave him a glimmer of hope.

He pushed himself up and moved in the direction of the light speckled air, but as he approached, the swarm of lights floated away from him and kept its distance. He followed. As they moved along, the pace quickened as if the lights were growing impatient. He sped up to keep pace, doing all he could to avoid obstacles in the dark.

This carried on for some time until he could see the lights had stopped in a clearing up ahead. The moment he set foot into the clearing the lights shot out in all directions and took position along the outside of the expanse, forming a sphere around him and this area. They ceased their flickering and held their place, steadily illuminating the entire space.

He understood he was meant to be here.

To be resumed…

Into the Darkness – Part 1

In the dark, the silhouettes of each tree could be easily mistaken for human forms. An entire army of shadow men, poised and ready, only swaying with the tracking of the flashlight. He was already on edge before stepping through the forest threshold in the dark, he didn’t need his mind tricking him to think he was seeing people out there to cause that. The stillness and silence that surrounded only bolstered his fears. The only sound to be heard was the rustling under his feet with each step.

He proceeded cautiously, panning the flashlight left to right and back again, careful to tread softly. The further into the woods he was, the darker it seemed to become and the less effective his flashlight seemed to be, as if the darkness absorbed all light and color and left no remaining reflection of any sort.

What he was looking for was not apparent yet. He was told he would know when he found it and not to come back until he did. Of course, his mind jumped to all the terrible things he feared he would come across: a cabin with a cluttered basement full of sharp objects, a shrine of some sort, a little girl in her Sunday dress holding a floating balloon. And on, and on.

Still, with no real purpose or sense of direction, he carried on. The darkness really was growing darker. A blackness that felt thick, like it required more effort to move through.

His flashlight flickered. Panicking, he hit the head of the light against the base of his palm. The light steadied, but only for a moment. A few steps later and the light cut out completely. In a fury, he frantically beat the light against his hand, but without any results. He was left without sight in this dense darkness.

He groped around in the air near him until he came to a tree, and he slumped down to its base, sitting against it. There was no possibility of finding his way in the night. So he sat there, unsure of what to do. He thought perhaps he can wait it out until the morning, though he feared the worst would happen, unable to understand his surroundings. And he doubted if the morning would come at all, for how could day and light even exist amongst such darkness?

To be resumed…

Barelas Boy

You ain’t ever seen no whip like his, man. Ese vato din’t even touch the groun or nuthin. We hear em bumpin for miles up. He pull aroun an no jokin, he flash right by like he don’t even see the crew. Din’t even see Marco crossin the street or nuthin. Almost hit em too.

But that ride man, orale! He has them pearl leather seats, top down, mus be four 12s in the trunk, paint so clean I thought my face would come right over an dame un beso. That thing was all sick.

And catch this ese, no tires an no rims down there. That thing was straight back to the future. Cholo was floatin down 2nd this high off the ground. I ain’t foolin bro. Marco coulda ducked under, it woulda went right over em.

You believe me or no? I ain’t lying man. It for real.

He had ‘Barelas Boys” across the back. I ain’t ever heard of them crew though. Nah man, I ain’t trippin or nuthin. This our corner an I ain’t playin like that. Believe he float right by, ask Marco or Lupe, they seen it too.

La pinche Barelas Boy don’t touch no ground.

I’m Loving It

The beef sizzled on the grill, slowly fading to brown, grease bubbled and popped at the periphery of each patty. She monitored the meat and flipped them deftly, precisely when they reached 120°F. With her left hand she shook a basket of french fries above its oily tar pit. They would be done soon. The weight of the basket would tell her when they were fried to a golden perfection.

A few patties reached an internal 140°F and she accurately threw cheese slices onto the ones that required it. Then proceeded to lay out buns on the grill for a quick toasting. 167.5°F internal now. With inhuman speed, she flung all the buns to their prepared wrappers, and it should be noted that each bun landed directly in the center o f each wrapper. She then scooped each patty onto its bun and applied an exact amount of the preferred condiments for each burger.

Each burger was then wrapped so expertly you would have accepted it as a Christmas gift. Then each individual french fry was stood in its sleeve, in its intended place to achieve the desired weight. All the ordered items were then neatly placed in its required container and ready to be enjoyed.

On a tray, she passed a wrapped burger, fries, and a gabled box, filled with the like, to a man with his boy. The boy watched her with awe and exclaimed “Whoa, that was fast!” His dad chuckledand replied, saying “Isn’t technology amazing?” And as they took their precision made meals from the counter and walked away, the man continued, commenting to his son or whoever would hear, “Can you believe your mother used to work at one of these places when she was young?”

She watched them with her programmed smile, chewing over the last statement. She was unit MCD465684648 and she was proud to be doing what she was programmed to do. Another order came through, input from the drive-up window, and she made her way back to the line to start again.

She watched them with her programmed smile, chewing over the last statement. She was unit MCD465684648 and she was proud to be doing what she was programmed to do. Another order came through, input from the drive-up window, and she made her way back to the line to start again.

The Storm

The sky split and fractured with the approaching storm. All those in its wake frantically secured their belongings and boarded up their doors and windows. The underbelly of the beastly cloud rolled hastily in their direction, undulating grays to electric blues and flickering flashes resounding with whip-cracks that filled them all with dread.

The last storm with this similar menace hovered over their village for more than a week. It relentlessly beat on their shacks with pounding rain and shook them with terror at the sound of every explosion. Families huddled close for comfort throughout the entire event. Fortunately, only livestock was lost in the storm. The owner of the livestock was known to blaspheme and speak sourly of the ones above in his drunken stupors. The high ones never sit idly and allow for such ill will to go unnoticed.

Rumor has it, a few in the village have been plotting rebellion against the ones in the sky and if those above have uncovered the coming coup, then the village is in for a storm unlike any other it has previously seen.

The last windows were covered and the final doors were shut, and the faithful began their benedictions and pleas for pity as a nearby clap boomed in the air above them. The storm had reached the village. Another blast rang out and with it a small hut splintered and caught fire. No mercy will be found in this storm.

Tropical Paradise

Amongst a palm tree silhouetted sunset, he swung gently back and forth in his hammock and watched the day come to a close. The sky was on fire with bright reds and oranges that resembled the palette of fruit he used to make his tropical drinks. One last sip from the coconut and it is time for another. He strolled back to his ramshackle hut and make-shift tiki bar -having built both himself, and he was proud of them- and began to chop fruit to juice for another drink.

This is what he had always wanted in life and what he had dreamed of. His cubicle had been plastered with summerlike getaways, from Guam to Aruba, Maui to the Maldives, Bali beaches, Hawaiin hammocks, Bahama breezes, Puerto Rico palms, and Seychelles sands. He had a plan and it would get him to these beautiful scenes to live out his last years. Only 13 more working years in this dreary cubicle and he would be able to cash that 401k and live his dream.

And then it happened. At first he panicked, like everyone else in the world. Did whatever he could to survive. But soon he saw the opportunity in the chaos. With a stroke of luck, one day he came across an abandoned home. In its garage was a car, in perfect condition, and plenty of gas cans to get him far south of there.

After making his way down the coast, he finally arrived at the perfect location. Additionally, it was unoccupied and devoid of any other human life. He staked out his spot that he could call his own and proceeded to ransack whatever grocery store he could find for margarita mixes, pina colada mix, tequila, rum. any fruit that hadn’t rotted away yet, and all the coconuts he could carry with him. He would live out his retirement early in this wasted world.

As he hacked at a fresh coconut with a machete, he fondly remembered arriving here at his new home on the beach. His reminiscence was cut short by the sounds of one of them stumbling along the beach, making its way towards him. He sighed. and with the machete in hand, walked over to it and gave it a good slice to the skull, much like chopping a coconut. He will drag it away later, after the sunset and the drink. Dragging them away was the only real work he had to do now, a small price to pay to live in this tropical paradise. But nothing would stop him from being there and enjoying another beautiful sunset.

Final Hour

Headlights traced the horizon, an eternal procession of white fading to red, seemingly dismembered from the ground in the dark. Jake mindlessly sat watching the streaks of light etch themselves into the night sky. Everything has built up to this day, this night, the coming hour when they could finish and hopefully get back to their normal, or at least what resembled normal, lives. Though how could anyone be the same after all of this? How could anyone regain normalcy? The atrocities they’ve committed and the horrors they witnessed will be theirs to bear alone. That was the agreement. When all was said and done, there would be no contact between any of them. Not a word. Jake has begun to worry that one of them will break. Its all too much to carry, especially in solitude. Plus, this whole thing became more than any of them agreed to or what they planned on from the beginning. Much, much more.

Jake was weighing the gravity of the night ahead, the task at hand. The plan was flawless. No holes. They hadn’t missed anything, he was sure of that. Yet he had this nagging feeling that some minute detail was skipped over. It was the first time through this whole ordeal that he felt this way but couldn’t lay a finger on what it could be.

A tap on the shoulder broke his concentration. There was nothing more to be done now. No adjustments could be made. It was time.

Reflections

The mirror reflected a young girl, about the age of 14, on horseback, peering out over the ocean as her mare padded along the beach, kicking up sand and saltwater as waves gently settled around its hooves.

With the touch of a finger to the mirror, the scene changed to reflect a young boy, about the same age as the girl on horseback. The boy was seated on the ground, hunched over and weeping. Fire and roaring flames licked at the dark sky in the background. He held the bloodied head of a young girl in his lap as he sat there and cried out in horror and disbelief.

Not able to bear this scene for long, another touch of the mirror shifted the reflection to a grand hall with children seated in ordered rows. Bright daylight flooding in from the ceiling of the hall and sculptures of great figures lining the entire perimeter. The focus of this scene was another young boy of about the same age. His skin a bright yellow hue. His eyes were rolled back in his head, as with all the other children’s behind him, and they were all wearing thin metalic discs on their heads.

The mirror gazer leaned closer to study these children, being so far from her understanding of what people look like. Though over the course of the last few days she has seen all manner of foreign landscapes and species in the mirror, that she could have never imagined existing. She found the mirror in the basement of her grandparents home, tucked away behind a bookshelf, forgotten and abandoned. Initially what attracted her to the mirror was the detailed bas-relief that adorned the frame. The mirror appeared to be just an ordinary mirror. But when she pulled it out and sat directly in front of it, she was not looking at her self any longer but a different teenage girl. This didn’t startle her, as it would startle most young girls, for she immediately understood the meaning of the mirror’s reflection.

Leaning closer to study the yellow boy a bit further she thought how truly odd it was that we all can look so different depending on our place of origin. At this precise moment, the yellow boy’s eyes rolled forward and seemed to be staring right into hers.

Startled by this, she quickly touched the mirror to change the scene again, but only blackness resulted. Panicking now she repeatedly poked at the glass to only get the result of a matte blackness that was as deep and dark as black can be. She was terrified now and in her dismay, shook the mirror with all her might in hopes the scene would change again. She began to cry as she struggled with the dark reflection. She was afraid now and this fear was not unfounded, for she knew the purpose of the mirror. She understood the mirror was only capable of reflecting the person that gazed into it.