January 2012
Structure. What path can one take without guidance? In a crowd, how easy is it to spot those who disappear? Or is it all about perspective, how much power does one have in seeing what may or may not be in front of them?
At dusk, a shadow disappeared into the night once again to merge with the darkness. At dawn, it would reappear, in another city, as another unknown trying to find peace. Around it, the sounds of the night brought forth themselves. For this particular shadow, these sounds gave it a home.
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A young spirit. Hopeful, loving, caring, and kind. Although, powerless. Grazing their hand against the tree of the forest it yearned for an image. Silence. Eyes closed, the spirit continued to search, it would take time but it would find what it was looking for, a lost spirit. A mere shadow, but one of value.
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To any man, the world seemed vast but to this man, the world was a vision. In the daylight, there was the illusion of safety and in the night, there were visions. The difference? Visions were aspects in the world that only he could see. He had yet to meet anyone who could see the world though his eyes and it worried him. How could people live without seeing the truth that lied in front of them?
In books, these ‘visions’ were called monsters, myths, and supernatural. He had run into children and teenagers who believe that these visions were real and as a kid, sometimes he felt secure, knowing that these visions could and sometimes would watch over him in the night. Although now, as an adult these visions became weary and he noted not to make eye contact with any of them.
He tried to be religious. The bible mentioned these visions after all. But somehow, he couldn’t. God, the Devil, angels, demons. These concepts weren’t exactly what he could see. The works of God and the Devil? Maybe. But he couldn’t grasp the complete reality of it. At times, he wondered why he didn’t approach these visions but then he remembered, he had made friends with one once, and it was gone, it left him, and since then, he didn’t know what to think.
What had this vision been? Other this his friend? He tried not to think about it. After all, the vision wasn’t always clear with its intentions. Now, at age twenty eight he found himself in the library again, picking up where he had left off that life.
Books scattered around his personal desk, a laptop open, a notebook to the side, and a lukewarm coffee to his right he sat there in thought. Where to start again? He wasn’t sure. But he did know, this was a part of him, but he also reminded himself, this was a hobby and this was why he could keep himself in a relationship.
On the outside, an illusion occurred. People thought having a PhD could define life, but he felt his life wasn’t complete and always found himself going back to the books that he swore he never would pick up again and would one day, burn. Flipping through his notes, the man’s eyes directed to each highlight part on the pages. Before him, ‘fictional’ stories tried to educate him on information already knew.
Frustrated, the man stood, turned away from his desk and paced the room. There had to be another way, a way he hadn’t approached yet on these ‘visions’. Looking out the window, he watched as faces disappeared and reappeared on the streets. Going to churches wouldn’t help. Cathedrals scared him. What could he do?
Thoughts scattered in his head as he continued to pace, leaving one thought separate from the others. Approach. The thought was insane. As a kid, he tried once, but even after his vision
friend left him he hadn’t been able to approach any of the visions. No matter where he went.
They all seemed afraid or distant. Some knew he was there, watching them, so they’d disappear. Others, glared. And some, stared back. But none approached him, and he didn’t approach them. All it ever came down to was a haunting starring contest which would end with one of them leaving the other.
Maybe it was time for him to try. Or, maybe he could track them, after all, he could seem them. They could see him, and tended to ignore him, so maybe, with different approach, he could represent himself and maybe even, make another friend.
At the door was a light knock. Glancing over at his desk, the man shrugged and turned away to reveal his visitor. Cracking the door open, the man stood with a fraction of his body visible. On the side, a young teen stood, looking at the man in amazement. For a long while, the two starred to the point where the man could see, a slight flicker in the teen’s image. Nodding, the man cleared his throat, and spoke.
“Can I help you?” He asked, trying not to scare the boy away.
At first, the boy stared into the man’s eyes, not sure what to think of the question. As if the boy didn’t know if the man could help but wanted him to. Finally, the boy looked at the man with serious eyes. “You’re noisy.” He said, then waited for the man to reply.
Noisy? The man thought of his apartment and what noise could distract any of his neighbors at three in the morning but there wasn’t any. All that seemed to making noise was the refrigerator and the occasional shuffle of books. Then the occurred to him, he was pacing. But from what he had observed, his steps were quiet if not silent. Staring back at the boy, the man looked at him confusion.
“May I ask how?” He questioned, noting the boy was flicking now and then.
The boy shrugged, “I don’t understand it myself.” He said quietly, partly to himself. “But I can hear you thinking. And it’s noisy.” He said, pointing to his own head. “I remember you at the library quite a bit, you’d take books that I wanted to read sometimes. But now, all I want to do is sleep and yet…” He paused. “All I can hear is you.”
This wasn’t a normal occurrence to the man since he had never approach one of the visions. Nevertheless be approached by a ‘vision’. Yet, here he was, talking to one, one that could hear him when he was silent yet exploding all at once. Staring at the boy. the man tried to place him, he mentioned the library, did he ever see him?
What type of vision could this boy be, to be able to read his mind, and approach him. How could the boy, one he could remember be attached to him? Then it clicked. An article. An ominous day, one that he couldn’t place until now.
“Joseph.” The man said, full of disbelief.
“Yea.” The teen shrugged. “Glad you remember?” He smirked.
“How is this possible…?” He questioned, knowing fully well that it was possible, but only to him. If anyone were to pass in the hall, he would be talking to no one. After all, Joseph was a memory.
“Have you forgotten?” He asked. “I live two floor below you. You used to let me borrow those books you checked out since we fought over them so much. I wondered why you were keeping them to yourself. But I didn’t want to ask you because you seemed so concentrated on other things.”
Standing in silence, the man nodded, “Why don’t you come in, Joseph, maybe we can catch up?”
“On everything you’ve been thinking about?” Joseph asked. “How I died but I’m here?” He questioned. “I’m not dead, Mr. Maxwell. You can see me can’t you?”! He exclaimed, making the room drop in temperature.
“I can see you.” Maxwell nodded. “Which is why I want you to come in. I’m not doubting that you’re here. You are here, but there has to be another reason. Please Joseph, let me help you.”
As Joseph sighed, the temperature rose slightly. Nodding silently, he stood waiting for Maxwell to unlock the door. Opening it fully, Maxwell stepped to the side and watched as Joseph stepped in. The boy was flickering but not floating as he thought he would be.
Annoyed, Joseph turned to Maxwell and glared. “I’m not dead.” He said harshly, hitting Maxwell with an unexplainable force.
“Let me show you what I believe.” Maxwell said calmly, receiving a hopeless look from Joseph.
“I can hear you.” Joseph said, tears rolling down his cheeks. “You’re thinking of the article that said I died, that I committed suicide.”
“But you didn’t.” Maxwell said quickly. “Something else happened that day and I couldn’t figure out what. I looked up all I could for you, Joseph, I mean it. I tried.” He said, pulling out the file he had stashed in his desk with Joseph’s name on it.
“2006?” Joseph said in a questioning tone then looked over at Maxwell’s laptop. “Your laptop says it’s-”
“Yes, Joseph it’s 2014. Eight years after your incident.” Maxwell explained, hoping that the boy wouldn’t lose his mind.
“That’s not possible.” Joseph growled, making the room drop in temperature again.
“Joseph.” Maxwell said, opening up the obituary. “Tell me what you remember from that night.”
“I was alive in my dreams…” Joseph started, an amount of discomfort settled in his eyes. “Then this elephant Rhino thing would come and eat everything around him, including me.” He said, shaking of his nerves. “Your article said I was in a comma.”
“You were.” Maxwell nodded, remembering the times that he would go see the boy.
“I saw you.” Joseph said with a smirk. Up until that night, you showed up to read to me before returning those books.”
Maxwell smirked. “I did. But do you remember what caused you to go unconscious?”
Shaking his head, Joseph shrugged. “I only remember the dreams. Sometimes it would a lion but the same result would occur, I’d be eaten along with everything that I was dreaming about, good or bad.”
“You had gotten a fever at first.” Maxwell said as he turned to the records that he acquired.
“We’re not family, how did you-?” Joseph questioned at the sight of the hospital record.
“You were in a coma for quite a while kid, your family appreciated my visits so when I asked for your records to solve why you were the way you were, they didn’t question me.” Maxwell smirked.
“The doctors healed you from your fever but for some reason you continued to be unconscious, your vitals were perfectly normal, but they couldn’t understand why you couldn’t wake up. But when I read to you, up until the end…” Maxwell sighed. “You’d mind would process the stories but that’s all you would respond to.”
Joseph blushed, “In my dreams I’d go through different adventures, meeting different myths or supernatural things that I guess you read about but in the end, when you’d stop reading, the lion of the elephant would come to eat them away…” He muttered.
“But at one point you became visible to me.” Joseph continued, “The dream would continue so I’d be there in the dream but I’d watch you read to me.”
“You saw me reading to you?” Maxwell asked more to himself than Joseph.
“But according to the footage you got up once, told the nurse you were feeling fine, and then they found you breathless in your hospital bed. Since the doctors couldn’t explain it they lied that you committed suicide.” Maxwell frowned. “I never believed it for one second, after all, you did respond to my voice so you were alive.”
Grazing his hand on the folder, Joesph thought hard, attempting to pick one a the papers up but instead passing through it. Biting his lip, Joseph sighed. “So I am…?”
“Yes.” Maxwell sighed, thinking of the last time he had visited the boy’s grave. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not alive in other people.” He smiled.
