Category: Recognized

The chamber was a void filled with darkness, parted only with light from the small porthole on the door. Frozen air pumped in to keep Cal Ritter from suffocating. He sat in the darkness holding tight to the cheap pleather chair in the center of the chamber. An unfamiliar voice echoed through an intercom. The man or woman, the intercom was so dated he couldn’t quite tell, he came through and asked if he was ready.
Cal gave a hesitant nod to the porthole and then a low hum began to echo,engulfing him. Swirling around him. The hum echoed in his ears like an inferno ripping and tearing through his mind. For a moment he thought his head might burst open from the noise. But, at the moment he thought that he would surely die, the sound faded out. Silence prowled through the chamber, his heartbeat the only thing that made a sound.
A white light burst through the backs of his eyes. This pain felt as if they were on fire.The fire worked its way through him,running rampant. Cal screamed but produced nothing audible. Soon, he blacked out,succumbing to the pain, and the cold embrace of darkness welcomed him.
He wasn’t sure of how much time had passed since he had blacked out but now he was drenched in sweat, his clothes soaked through, sticking to his skin. He laid face down in the dirt.Cal rolled over, blinded by the scorching sun. He squinted away the sweat from his eyes, sat up.His eyes struggled to focus. Given a few minutes he gathered that he was in a small clearing surrounded by a dense jungle rumbling with life and death.

It took him a moment to realize that it had worked, that piece of scrap metal actually worked. Now it was time for his real work to begin, He put his life on the line for this he wasn’t going back empty handed. His knees were weak but he managed to get to his feet. Cal wasn’t entirely sure of the time but he could tell it would soon be nightfall, he had to make it to El Mirador before then.
He shouldn’t be too far east of it (If the machine actually put him where he was supposed to be that is) so Cal turned his back on the Sun and began walking towards the horrors that awaited him in the jungle, impatiently waiting for darkness to fall so they could strike.
Darkness came faster than he expected and with it came the monsters. His body ached all over. He knew if he kept going through the night he might make it to El Mirador but the chances were slim, there was a greater chance of something getting to him first. No real shelter was nearby and it was too late to make one (nor did he know how to even make one). His only thought was to get off the ground and into a tree where he could maybe get a few hours of sleep (Only if he could calm his nerves though). Cal found a tree that he thought he could climb but wasn’t sure if his arms could hoist him up. He jumped and grabbed one of the lower hanging branches; the harsh bark gnawed at his palms. He tried to swing his leg over the branch but missed and threw his weight out of balance, lost his grip, and scraped deep gashes on his forearms. His limbs burned like fire and ice all at once, but if he didn’t get up soon the bullet ants marching towards him would surely change his definition of pain.
He got up to his feet, leapt up, grabbed the branch once again, the bark digging deeper this time making his hands into raw flesh. He swung his leg over this time and pulled himself up. Carefully, he inched his way up and found a decent spot to huddle down in for the duration of the night.
He sat in the tree,deep in thought. His heart pounded at his ribs like the bars of a prison cell, The strange world below him bellowed with noise and the threat of death. Cal thought to himself for what seemed like eternity shrouded in the darkest dark. What if he had gotten turned around when he was searching for a tree to rest in. What if the things below didn’t stay below. He wasn’t sure where in hell he was, all he could pray for was the things that stalked him and didn’t know where he was either.
Cal wasn’t sure when he had fallen asleep but daylight reached its hands through the canopy. The jungle was now slumbering (except for insects and a handful of other things). His limbs felt a bit less sore but his back ached from the seriously uncomfortable tree. He swung down from the tree instantly regretting it because his hands were still extremely tender. He stretched and began his walk towards El Mirador, this time facing the Sun.
Only a few hours passed before he began to see remnants of harvested crops (The machine got him closer than he expected, maybe it wasn’t the big of a piece of junk). Cal was extremely hungry, he hadn’t eaten since a few hours before he left his time. But he didn’t have time to be hungry. He had only a day left before the Organization would pull him back (or at least try to, he doubted it could actually work). He kept walking and made it to fields of maize that looked like they were currently being cultivated but no one was here. That made his job a lot easier because he couldn’t be seen or he risked changing the course of history. That’s why they chose this date. This was the day that the White man came to the “New” World. The Organization had hoped that with the arrival of the Spaniards the people of El Mirador would be preoccupied and Cal could slip in without detection.
He made his way to the main city with towering pyramids outstreathing to the Gods above with intricate writings sprawled on all sides of them. From where he was standing he could see at least 7 of them. Each taller than the last. Cal’s breath was taken away by the site. He didn’t expect to be this awestruck but the beauty of it all was astonishing. No time to get distracted now though he had to get back on track .
He could hear large crowds yelling in the distance. He assumed this was the Spainards and the Mayans meeting on some not so good terms. He strode past them making sure to steer clear of any people still wandering the stress who wanted nothing to do with the new intruders. He walked for a bit longer taking note of the sun being at high noon. He didn’t have much longer, he had to find it. Cal turned a corner and saw the biggest pyramid of all. This must have been the holiest site in the city for them.
If it were really in El Mirador then it had to be here. At the base of the Pyramid he could see small cut outs which looked like strange arch ways. That had to be where it was. Only one problem. There were 4 guards outside the entrance. He had to wait for a shift change or night fall. But he didn’t have that time to wait. The sun would set within the next 5 hours and he only had till dusk. He had to make his move now or he would return empty handed and if he did that he didn’t want to find out what the shady Organization would do to him if he failed. Cal only took this job because he needed money after being fired from the University of Oklahoma (and the Organization was paying huge amounts of cash for this) and the job seemed easy enough. When he took this job he never thought that time travel would actually be possible, much less when he saw what they were using to do it. But it had worked. He was here, not in his time but in the time of the great Maya.
BANG!!!! BANG!!! BANG!!!
Cal jumped back around the corner. Those were gunshots. The Spainards had actually fired on the people. There were screams and he could see people running through the wide streets. He froze in horror of what he witnessed but he had to regain focus. He turned back towards the guards who were running towards the gunshots. Perfect. Now was the time to move. He spirited towards the arched openings and down a hall to the heart of the pyramid. Little light was in the hall itself but at the end he could see a faint fire light. He made it to the end of the hall and could see it. It was real. The Lost Fortune of the Snake Kings was real. Mounds of gold, obsidian, and jade filled pots of different sizes. Cal’s eyes widened, the primal instinct of creed was creeping inside. He was told to take nothing. But could one really hurt? He stepped into the large chamber then became frozen with fear. There were guards in the chamber (of course there were). They stared him down with strength but also confused his appearance was undoubtedly strange to them. One of the guards ( he looked like their captain or leader) readied his weapon and began running at Cal. He turned and ran as fast as he could fear mixed with adrenaline in his blood. He made it outside where the rest of the still fleeing civilians were along with what looked like half their army. They turned and looked at him. They all charged at once and Cal darted left and jumped onto the first ledge of the pyramid. All of the men gasped in disbelief. “Shit” Cal thought this is one of the pyramids that was not meant to be climbed. It was the place of their gods, he had no other choice though. He kept climbing and heard the Captain bark and order to the men in a language Cal had no idea how to speak. Cal turned and saw the men begin to climb. He scrambled up the sides each section getting harder to climb then the last but the protruding writing and art of the side provided good foot holds. He went from studying and admiring the Maya to stepping all over their pyramids, how the times have changed.
He made it to the top with the army a few steps behind. Night must have fallen while Cal was in the pyramid but he had only taken notice now. The Organization would pull him back soon but it needed to be now. The men began making it to the top where Cal was. He was trapped with no way out. This was it he would die at the hands of the very people he spent his life studying. They prowled around him like a great jaguar then in almost perfect unison, like they were one powerful force they readied their weapons ready to strike. They pulled back their weapons and swung all at once.
Cal saw nothing but white light. This was surely death. He felt a freezing chill on his skin that penetrated deep into his lungs. Then Darkness. Then the sound of a man or was it a woman he couldn’t tell?

On a bleak night in a small town, a young man hurried down an empty street. The man had on a patchy coat, worn out shoes, and it seemed that the only possession he had of value was a small pocket watch which he took out every so often for the comfort of its ticking. He was headed towards a run down shack, or a building that looked like a shack from the outside, but when he entered, his eyes were enamored with shades of orange and purple.
“Welcome friend! How can we assist you?” The barkeep shouted across the tables, drawing the eyes of those lounging around to the young man at the door.
He fiddled nervously with the chain of his watch and spoke, “I’m here for a favor.”
The barkeep made a face of recognition and nodded towards a narrow door tucked away in the corner.
“Thank you kindly.” The man quickly shuffled to the door, only stopping when the barkeep called for him.
“Just a warning, lad. Once ye open that door, tis awfully hard to close it,” and with a pitiful smile, he went back to his tasks.
Strange, the man thought as he opened the door with caution. That caution was quickly abandoned when his eyes took in the sight before him. The room was small and every inch of it was covered with elaborate cloths and quilts that had intricate designs on each. It would have been a complete eye sore to anyone with any sense of how colors or patterns worked. In the middle of the chaos, there looked to be a small table with pillows for chairs surrounded by little candles and a light hung overhead. And, sitting cross legged on one of the lilac cushions, was a man with long hair pulled into braids with closed eyes.
“Hello stranger,” he spoke with his eyes still shut. “How can I assist you?”
The young man, who was previously wondering whether or not he should take off his shoes so as not to track mud on the many rugs, quickly repeated the same words he had said to the barkeep earlier.
“I need a favor.” The sitting man finally opened his eyes and ushered for the stranger to sit across from him. The young man did as he was told, and as he sat, he noticed the man across from him had bent fingers. Now, this would have been fine by him if they weren’t bent backwards towards the sky instead of curling in like a normal hand.
“What is your name if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Jonah.” He shifted uncomfortably while his acquaintance set up an elaborate puzzle of cups and bowls filled with shiny black liquid that resembled oil without the smell, lighting a few in what could only be described as at random.
When he was finished, the man with his curly fingers spoke again. “So, Jonah. What is this favor that you wish for?”
“I wish for more time.” The man raised his brows. He was suspecting Jonah to ask for riches, given his appearance and tatery coat. He continued to stare at him, studying his face and his mannerisms. Jonah’s face was quite pale, his tired eyes searching around the room while his hands fidgeted impatiently with his pocket watch.
Leaning away from the table, the man with the backwards fingers asked, “Why do you need more time?” Jonah’s mouth twitched, not really wishing to continue a conversation with a strange man that he just met with strange hands that he did not want to look at.
“I do not want to speak about it with someone I don’t know.” The man smiled a smile that could have matched his curly fingers.
“Then let us become friends. Then you can answer my question and I’ll grant you your favor.” Jonah did not seem to like this one bit. He shifted nervously as he continued to fiddle with his watch.
“I have been recently diagnosed with an illness that I can not afford to cure. Now, will you give me more time?” The curling smile fell from the man’s face. He placed his hands on the table, much to Jonah’s disgust, and adding to Jonah’s discomfort, stared unblinking for what felt like ages.
Finally, having had enough of this one sided staring contest, Jonah spoke impatiently, “If you wanted to waste my time you have succeeded. Are you going to grant me my wish or not? I’ve told you what you wanted! Now it’s your turn to keep up your end of the bargain!”
“Oh?” The man said. “This was a bargain for you, Mister Jonah? You ask for more time and yet you are unable to give some back for a nice conversation with a stranger offering to help you.” Jonah’s face went red in shame. He looked down at his watch which filled up the silence with its quiet ticking.
“If you don’t have the funds to pay for your illness then why not ask for riches? Why time?” Jonah looked back up at the man, whose face was eerily calm.
“Because money is corrupt. It can make even the best of men into power hungry bastards. But time? Time is continuous like a circle. Time is forgiving.”
The man with the curling fingers nodded his head in understanding. “So you believe that time won’t betray you the way riches would?”
Jonah shrugged, “it will probably betray me in a different way. Now will you give me more time or are you going to continue to waste it?” The man sighed whilst turning his head to the side.
“Alright since you’re so eager to leave I’ll name my price and then you can go on your merry way.” Jonah mimicked the man’s head tilt.
“Price? What price? I told you I haven’t any money!” The man brought his backwards hands to his mouth and chuckled.
“Nothing is free, Mister Jonah. Not even time. But don’t worry, the price is not money.” Suddenly, a solemn expression flashed across Jonah’s face.
“I’m going to have to give you my watch, aren’t I?” Again, the man surprisingly laughed, but this time he didn’t hide his smile.
“Dear Heavens, no! I have no use for such things. Besides, it seems that that watch is very dear to you.” He stood up, taking one of the bowls and began to pour it in a circle around Jonah and the table, silently chuckling to himself.
“But then what’s, wait what are you doing?” The man sat back down and placed the now empty bowl back in its specific position.
“Making a time circle. This is how your price will be paid.” Jonah shuddered. He knew that when he came here, this was going to be an unpleasant experience but now it began to feel like something more sinister.
“What exactly is the price?” The man smiled his curly smile which made Jonah shudder again.
“You want more time which means you need to take time from somewhere else, or more specifically from someone else. The best way to do that is to take their life away. Any living thing will do. Once you do that, their lifetime will be added to yours, thus giving you what you want. More time.” Jonah stared blankly at the man. Did he hear him right?
“I have to take another person’s life?” The man nodded and began to set the circle ablaze with light.
“Time and Death are twin soldiers walking hand in hand. To have time is to gain death. You cannot get one without the other. You want more time then you must bring death.” Suddenly the room was engulfed by flames. Jonah blocked his face and tried to yell out for the man, hoping that by some miracle he could put the fire out.
The next time Jonah opened his eyes, he found himself standing on the very road in which he was walking on just an hour earlier. He knew this was true because the small shack that he was once in was burning to the ground, the shouting people still inside.
Unable to watch the guests being burned alive, Jonah looked down and in his hand was his small pocket watch, but it was not the same. It had a picture of an hourglass instead of the normal clock and the sand was quickly depleting.
Suddenly, the barkeep, who was out to get more beer for the guests, saw the shack and shouted out, dropping the bottles he was carrying, and ran towards the burning building. Jonah watched as he dug through the rubble, not sure of what he was hoping to find.
Eventually the barkeep turned towards Jonah, a white rage in his eyes. “What did ye do? What rott’n deal did that witch make f’r ye!?” He was running up to Jonah with a piece of rubble in hand.
“What did he promise ye!? What favor warranted this!?” He gestured to the remains of the shack, waving the sharp piece of wood madly in the air.
“I, I didn’t think that this would happen. I didn’t mean for this to happen.” The barkeep huffed and shoved the rubble into Jonah’s hands.
“I hope it twas worth it, what’ver ye asked f’r,” and while he turned away, the small watch made a ding noise, causing Jonah to look down. The sand was almost gone. And the barkeep was heading back towards the still burning shack.
Jonah, realizing what needed to be done, gripped the piece of wood so that the sharp side was pointing out and quietly approached the sullen barkeep.
“Y’know, that favor he granted me, it came with a price.” The barkeep looked up from his crouching position, tears in his eyes.
“Was it this?” He spoke softly like a child, looking into the orange flames.
“Nah, I asked for more time. And he told me the only way to get it is to take it from other people.”
“How’d you mean?” Jonah inhaled. Just close your eyes, he thought. Close your eyes and then it’ll be over.

The next time Jonah saw the man with the curled fingers was many years later, when he was exploring a cavern near a local vacation hotspot. It was a grueling hot day and he was in need of some shade to cool off from a long spree of time collecting, as he liked to call it.
Whilst relaxing on a stone, listening to the happy ticking of his beloved pocket watch, Jonah felt a sudden change in the wind and a sinister feeling sent a shudder through his spine.
“How goes the killing?” He stood up quickly, frantically looking for the familiar voice. To his astonishment, there stood at the entrance of the cavern was the man who granted this horrid favor upon his shoulders, curled fingers and all. Jonah stared blankly at him, unable to think of what to say. Luckily the man spoke again.
“I suppose it’s going well, seeing as how you are still among the living.” Jonah didn’t move from his position. How is it that this man is alive? He saw the shack go up in flames and he himself made sure there were no survivors.
The man leaned on the side of the entrance and asked, “Well? Aren’t you going to ask how I survived?”
“It did cross my mind. I assumed you burned to a crisp with the rest of the guests!” The man chuckled, bringing a backwards hand to his lips.
“I survived the same way you did. And we both know that not all the guests died from the fire.” Looking down in what felt like shame, Jonah broke into his old habit of fiddling with his watch.
Suddenly his head snapped up. “Wait, I wasn’t the one who caused the fire! That was you!”
Raising an eyebrow, the man stated, “Didn’t you? It was, after all, your favor.” Jonah huffed. Unbelievable, he thought.
“Favor? This is a curse! I’m a murderer now because of your so called favor! Now if you don’t want anything I suggest you bugger off! I’ve found that no good comes from talking to strange men like you.” The man scoffed, obviously unimpressed with Jonah’s behavior.
Glaring, he spoke again, “You know what, I’ll save you the energy.” He began to head towards the entrance, making sure to show his blatant disgust towards the man.
“Always so impatient. Always so eager to leave.” Jonah, stopping in his tracks, was about to protest, but the man lifted a backwards hand to silence him.
“Do not fret, after this you will not see me again. I’ll leave you with these last words, Mister Jonah. Time is cruel. Everything succumbs to it, birds, trees, people. Like I said when we first met; time and death are twin soldiers walking hand and hand. Time leads while death follows behind, decimating everything in its path. Then the cycle starts again, a continuous loop that will never end. Isn’t that fascinating? But now you are on borrowed time. You’ve upset the balance and used your ability to cause death to get more and more of what isn’t yours.”
Interrupting, Jonah exclaimed, “You told me to do so! That was your price!” The man with the curled fingers gave his matching smile, but this time it had a hint of sadness.
“No, Mister Jonah. That was the test. And now this is your lesson. You thought that money is what makes someone corrupt, but you couldn’t be more wrong. Time is your favor. Death is your gift. It takes time to create a monster and now you’ve become one. Goodbye, Mister Jonah. Enjoy your time and enjoy your death.”
And with a wave of his curling fingers, the cave entrance collapsed, trapping Jonah and his screams inside…

“Are we all clear to blow this thing up!?” The young bomber called out. The expedition leader gave the go ahead for the explosion. The government recently found this mountain sight and believed it to have once been a cavern sealed over a decade ago, with many hidden secrets inside. Miles Shudnought, a young archaeologist well on his way to fame, was specifically chosen to extract whatever his team found and bring it back to Washington. He and his team stood back while they blasted the entrance open.
“Did it work?” The group approached cautiously. The cave entrance stood agape, ready to be explored.
“We did it boys!” The group cheered while Shudnought moved into the cave, using his flashlight to show the way. But he stopped suddenly, nearly causing one of his teammates to bump into him.
“What’s wrong-”
“Shh shh! You hear that?” The group fell silent, waiting for Shudnought to give them the ok to go on. Suddenly, a man covered in soot carrying a small pocket watch appeared looking deadly thin.
“Who’s there?” Shudnought called out, causing the man to stop walking. It was quiet again except for a small ding sound that came from the watch.
“Ah, thank goodness! I was almost out of time.”

I finally decided to shut the phone off, and once I had gathered the courage, turned the lamp off. I hated the dark. Most nights it caused me to panic. It felt as though the second light disappeared from the room, all the nasty thoughts I had ever thought or any terrible image I had ever seen were fighting their way to the front of my mind, rendering me unable to think of anything else but what was dark and disturbing. The dark made me feel that something was coming for me, something was watching me. Sometimes I think I could feel the dark like an animal on me, stalking me in the night. I could feel its cold breath on my face, and its long, spiny fingers stroking my neck. I turned the lamp on again in a rush of fear, but when I looked to where I could hear the darkness’s breathing before, there was nothing. Within a second of seeing the room illuminated my terrors seemed childish. This is getting ridiculous. I thought to myself as I stared at the lamp. It’s light was harsh and its body was not very pretty, being a sleek, plain figure. but it drove away the darkness, and that was all I needed from it. This will be the last time. I told myself as I turned away from the bright light of the lamp, and eventually into sleep.
After work I went to the nearest department store and scoured through the lighting isles. Finally I found the small plug-in lighting area and scanned through the contenders. It couldn’t be childish- I’d be embarrassed if someone came to visit, it had to be modern and conservative and stylish and inviting and warm and beautiful. I was unsuccessful, so I went to the furniture store. I had no success there either. I decided that as a last resort before the sun went down that I’d go into the little vintage shop and see if I could find anything. The air was thick with dust, and it smelled of old paper, in an almost comforting way. I began my search once again, but as the sun began to set I accepted that I would be sleeping with the lamp on tonight. Just as I turned to leave I saw her. A vintage baby lamp, with a blue mushroom-cap top, and star-shaped silhouettes to project onto the ceiling. On the base of the lamp stood Mary and her little lamb. She smiled at me. She was elegant, with a pale pink dress and a sweet lamb by her side. I knew immediately she was the right one. I quickly purchased her and had the cashier use extra wrapping to make sure her fragile porcelain body would survive the drive home.
I set her next to the lamp and plugged her in. After I got into bed I didn’t even waste time checking messages or social media. For the first time in years, I wasn’t afraid to go to sleep. I pressed the button and she started to shine. I turned the lamp off without a second thought. Little stars spread out across the ceiling, bringing the room to life, even in darkness. Her light was warm and calming and made me feel safe and protected. She gave me a small nod, as if to show me she was ready for her night shift, so I rolled over and closed my eyes. No visions of monsters and catastrophes were coming to mind, so I decided to fall asleep. It was the best I had slept in years. I awoke to Mary, who was watching me. She beamed and waved when she saw my eyes were open. I smiled back at her and turned her light off. She yawned, stretched her arms, and snuggled up next to her lamb, falling asleep almost instantaneously. I was ecstatic. I slept the whole night without waking up once. As I drove to work, I thought to myself. How is it that a simple baby lamp was the answer to all my problems? I chuckled. That night I was practically excited to go to bed. I didn’t even turn on the lamp. I switched her on and Mary hopped right up, ready to stand guard for the night. I glanced at the stars and admired their warm, gentle glow before I finally drifted off to sleep.
We became close friends quickly; she told me that she was starting to worry no one wanted her anymore. She told me how she was insecure about her faded dress, the scratches on her crook, and her lamb’s crooked bow. I could tell she was grateful to have a home, but she still wanted to be pretty again. For the next few months every night was the same. She would shine her light at night, and drive away the darkness, and I would sleep like a baby. I felt bad, having to wake her up and forcing her to wait for me to relieve her of her shift. I decided that I would do something nice for her in return. I came home from work early, unplugged her, wrapped her up way more than was necessary, and got into the car. I refused to tell her where we were going, to her dismay. We arrived at the vintage repair shop, and after I checked in, I handed her gently to the man who owned the shop. She looked scared, but I gave her a reassuring nod. She and her lamb held each other tightly as they were carried into the workshop in the back. I started to become nervous. I knew she’d be fine, the owner seemed to be a very sweet man, but I was worried about me. I hadn’t been alone at night for a long time now, and I was worried that the shadows were going to come for me again. I climbed into bed, and out of habit, turned the lamp off. At first, there was nothing. Then I heard the hoarse breathing I hadn’t heard in months. It grew louder, and louder,growing closer. I wasn’t going to wait for it to reach me. I flipped the lamp’s switch, but it didn’t turn on. No. I flipped it on again. Nothing. The breathing got closer. No no no no. I flung off the covers and ran to the main light switch. Still nothing. How? How? A soft growl came from the darkness. No no no no no no. I ran out the door, trying every light in the house. Nothing would work. I tried the kitchen light one more time, listening to the raspy hum of the shadows, coming from right in front of my face. The bulbs overheard slowly flickered to life, and the huffing stopped.
I skipped work to pick her up early. She was already wrapped when I retrieved her, so I would have to wait until we were home to see her. I took her up to my room, and carefully peeled back the brown paper covering the lamp. She was unrecognizable. Her colors were vibrant and even. Her porcelain was smooth and shiny. Her crook was straight and the lamb’s bow was a bright baby pink. She beamed at me. I didn’t need to even ask her how she liked it, her new rosy cheeks said everything I needed to know. I plugged her in, shut the blinds, and pressed the button. We both smiled. Now there were twice as many stars covering the ceiling, shining brighter and rosier than ever.

That year I liked to imagine myself as a witch from Harry Potter. It made everything more like an exciting dream that I could wake up from one day. I remember the overcast skies, when the leaves died, and everything smelled like Fall. We wore uniforms; it wasn’t a boarding school but was about as close as you could get without being one. I had some good friends and knew almost everyone’s name. It was a small school. It doesn’t sound too bad in theory; the vision and hopes were beautiful, and I guess some parts of the school and that year were beautiful, too. But most of it wasn’t beautiful in any way, so I lived in my own fantasy where I knew Voldemort would die in the end. I guess I should address the elephant in the room: my brother had an unfortunate relationship with Death herself, but good always triumphs eventually, doesn’t it? There was also a moose I saw frequently. It was a guardian, maybe my own Patronus. But in any case, the darkness wouldn’t come near me when the moose was around. Sometimes if I was far enough away from the cloud surrounding my brother, I could forget and have fun with my friends. Even when my brother was near, I would ignore the cloud because everyone has some twisted relationship with Death, so it’s not really abnormal.
There were evil teachers and kind ones, as there have always been, as well as darker students and students full of light. Maybe one day there will be a war, but the tension hasn’t boiled to that point yet. Anyway, that year I tried to be a normal student, stressing about homework and teenage drama and such, while the moose and Death always stayed on the edges of my vision.
Most times I would sleep at school. I would make different excuses, but in reality I was afraid of the dark. I hated the darkness right before dawn. I hated turning on lights because they contrasted the darkness and made my bedroom feel like a small box, with a terrifyingly lonely and unjust world outside. But most of all I hated the darkness that hung around my brother; I despised Death. So I stayed at school and made it my life. I avoided Death and my brother as much as I could. Sometimes I couldn’t avoid her though. I had to watch as she pleaded with my brother to join her forever, and I watched as he tried multiple times. There were so many tears, screams, and blood. I wanted to go to school. It’s all just a dream. Somehow, the darkness got darker as the year went on. Voldemort was growing stronger, and there wasn’t time anymore to have fun and be kids. I wept when the school year finished; there were no more distractions. Leaves lay on the ground as the hauntingly bare skeletons of trees reached for warmth and light.
We would never go back to that school, for its halls were too full of memories of blood and darkness. So we came home. The moose came, too. My brother needed serious help. His relationship with Death had damaged him the most; she had manipulated his thought patterns and made them ingrained habits. I took psychology the year after because I wanted to understand his brain, my brain. I wanted to feel in control of an awful situation that had spun off of a cliff. He started getting help, but he was still in his cloud. Death still came by, and I still stayed in my Hogwarts fantasy. The moose was even in my dreams and made sleep my safest escape.
One day I confronted Death; the tension and hatred that had been boiling finally overflowed as the kettle whistled.
“Why! Why the hell are you hurting him? Can’t you see that he’s hurting? Can’t you see that he’s broken because of you!”
“I’m sorry! It’s not my fault! He wanted me to come; he pleaded with me to take him. I know he was too young, but he wanted me. He preferred my company to the pressure of school.”
So much rage filled me, I wanted to punch something.
“How can you blame all the pain on him? How can you say he wanted it?! Why couldn’t you just leave? Why couldn’t you stop him?”
“He’s believing his own lies. He created a fantasy just like you did, but it was filled with me, and he believed it.”
I was shocked by the genuine pain I saw in her eyes. It reflected my own.
“I’m sorry,” she said again, softly this time.
I felt trapped in a scream. What do you do when someone you love is hurting themselves, when they believe their own lies? There’s no one to fight. It’s all shadows and dreams.
One day, my brother began to wake up from the nightmare. The moose had dispelled some of the fog. I had asked him to help my brother instead of protecting me. I felt safe; I wasn’t afraid of Death anymore. In psychology, I learned that people can start believing something, and that thought pattern becomes a well-beaten path. It only takes around twenty-eight days for the neurons to create a new pathway in your brain while it takes around sixty-six days and hard work to let that negative pathway become overgrown and unused. My brother had held Death’s hand as he ran down his nightmarish thought pattern over and over for the past two and a half years. It would take a lot of work to create a healthy path. But once the moose broke through the mist, he could see where his feet were and begin to take shaky steps in the right direction.
I continued to have conversations with Death. We became more than acquaintances. But our relationship was not toxic like hers had been with my brother. You know how everyone has one or two friends that really shape them and change their life? Death was that friend for me. I’ve always been one to look for the best in the villain and the beauty in broken places. I finally saw the humanity and paradoxical beauty in Death; it became almost comforting to know that she would be waiting for me at the end. We danced through hallucinations of meaning and meaninglessness. She seemed to appreciate my dark humor, and we laughed at the pain. I think what we found in each other was a place to be real and raw and tender when so often we have to act numb and indifferent to the senseless suffering surrounding us.
While Death was helping my wounds heal, the moose continued to coax my brother out of his nightmare. Swirling creatures of light often surrounded him, dispelling the shadows. They looked like Patroni of beautiful souls, some of the greatest people to live. The psychological work was hard, yet he did it and walks a new path now. His scars healed, and he began to laugh again. I no longer needed to cope through my Hogwarts fantasy. The sun rose and the fever dream dissipated. I am still close friends with Death (who else will laugh at my jokes?), and I became friends with the moose. He’s not bad, pretty chill. There was finally green again, after the longest winter of my life.