Those Who Remain Unnamed

The full strength of the storm had set itself against me and I had prevailed. In all honesty, it was not even a proper mountain, merely a glorified hill. And yet it had been my Everest. The shrieking wind was suddenly silent, the echoes in the distance faded away. Even the chill in my bones felt some relief… it wasn’t that the cold had gone, but a warmth had kindled within. You might argue that the exertion had warmed me, but I would argue it was hope. Blind hope, perhaps even reckless hope… but the thought of somehow finding a way out of here…. It warmed my bones like nothing else could. 

Yet the hope that had kindled quickly sputtered back into mere embers. This hill that was meant to be my salvation (though I knew not HOW), was little more then a rise of earth crowned by strewn stones and a faded, fractured crystal rock near the center. It appeared as if there had once been walls and a central tower on this rise. The presence of the crystal mystified me, however. 

Yet this flimsy hope was built on something more then these unimpressive ruins. For days (weeks?) I wandered in the dark, my only company being the wind’s whisperings and the vague flashes of the echoes in the distance. I was still trapped here, but for the first time since I had reached this forsaken realm, I was truly not alone. 

She stood just in front of the fallen tower, her impression ambiguous, but if I had to define it I would call it disappointed. She was forgettable in almost every way. Her clothes were worn and faded, her frame small and frail looking. She was pale, almost white. There were several scars on her. She did not look like a warrior. But the one thing about her that was inescapable was her eyes.

In another world, the real world, there was nothing remarkable about them perhaps, other then the way they seemed to fade and intensify, pulsating like some strange energy source. They were the color of the sky… and in fact, the only actual color I had seen since I had come here. They seemed at once serene, determined, disappointed, and intelligent. And they were boring into my soul as if there was no secret I could keep against her.

I have to say I did not know her. She bore no resemblance to any specific person I could remember. I was quite certain we had never met. She looked so oddly familiar to me though, as if we had been friends for many years. My tongue moved to blurt out a name but only produced a mumble, for though she seemed closer then family, in truth I knew nothing of her.

“Hello, Watcher. I hope the journey did not tax you too much.” She looked up and over me into the distance and the warmth in her expression died away. “The Night never rests. Thus neither can we.”

The words seemed so odd, as if I really had entered wonderland. She was maybe 4 feet away from me but her voice sounded so far away, faded, yet echoing through my consciousness. She was not so different from the world around her. She was a flame flickering in the wind, but elsewise she was as faded and worn as everything around her.  I tried to look away, but the powerful magnetism to her eyes drew me and in and held me there. The blue of her eyes faded and then came back stronger, only to fade again. It was as if her spirit was rebelling against the world around her and her strength ebbed and flowed. I realized that she was the one thing in this place other then myself who did not belong here.

I had so many questions for her. But where to begin? And were there some answers that I just wouldn’t want to know?

“What is this place?” a  hoarse voice asked. “How did I get here?”

She frowned as if I was being rude or obtuse. But still she answered, simply and patiently.

“You haven’t given it a name.” calmer now, but just as wary. 

I blinked a few times and breathed deeply, my senses still blunted by the effort of the ascent. “Why would I give it a name. I’ve never been here before. I know nothing of this place.”

“And yet it is your creation. It knows much of you.” Again, a wary look into the distance. “More each day.”

She eyes came back to me. “I’ve never seen someone like you get this far.”

“Someone like me?”

“Someone so faded, empty, devoid of the light. You’ve been in the shadows too long. And that would be trouble enough, but now their master looks upon you too. You may know the shadows my friend, and you may think you know the Night, but you have much to learn and the Night is a most vigorous teacher. But perhaps the determination that got you this far may yet save you.”

I was struck by how her every answer only led me to more questions. 

“What is this place, truly?”

“As I said, it is nameless. But it is a battleground. Your battleground. And if they find you? A cemetery.”

“They? I see no soldiers, hear no weapons.”

She laughed an almost mirthless laugh. “Don’t be so simplistic. This is not a battle of sticks and stones. The soldiers you do not see are everywhere. They want nothing more then to destroy what is left of you. They are much closer to that goal then I feared. It’s not a battle for your body, it is a battle for your mind, the essence of who and what you are.”

“Why did they pick me? I’m no different then anyone else”

“Oh but you are different, Watcher, and you know that well. You talk different, you act different, you think different. Everyone around you is either trying to change you into something you are not or destroy you. Why have you been so long in the shadows if you have so many friends? We don’t have have time for games now, but suffice it to say that you have lost your way and now you have drawn the attention of forces that have no equal. Positive thinking will aid you as much as cough drops cure cancer. And you know that.”

It was true that the bumbling Dr. Clapton with his simplistic workbooks and cookie cutter solutions had no idea of the reality of my situation. Why would you invite a fool in to tinker with something as precious as your own mind, especially with how poorly he peddled CBT, the current therapeutic flavor of the month. If he was my only ally… I would have to place my trust elsewhere. “Tell me what I need to do.”

She smiled for an instant. “We cannot hope to defeat the Night just yet. I have a task for you, one you cannot fail if you hope to survive. If you seek the answer, and possess the strength to pursue it, wherever it may go, you must first seek the counsel of the other. Go north further still, and look for an orange glow in the distance… the glow of the one true forge. There you will find her, if indeed she still persists.”

“The Other?”

“The only other person in this world or the next who can both help you… and is potentially on your side. Everyone else you know or think you know either cannot help you or doesn’t care to. I’m sorry Watcher, but the night is darkest just before the dawn.”

In that moment the time flashed back. I wanted to tell her she was wrong. I wanted to tell her to go to hell. But she was right. She was right and she was the only hope I had of finding a way out of here. All this time I had looked around me for the answers, and now I would look within.

She seemed to see my mental decision in my expression, for as soon as my mind was decided, she spoke rapidly. 

“Go Watcher. The faster you reach her, the sooner you can seek shelter from the your true enemy. GO, and when you return all questions will be answered, I will give you that one assurance. For now, nothing more. GO!”

Again, more questions then answers, so rather then continue to pursue facts I decided to follow instructions. It seemed there was little alternative. I was maybe 20 feet away when I realized something. I turned back and she was standing there waiting as if she had known exactly what I would do.

“You never told me your name!” I had to shout over the gathering wind.

“You haven’t given me a name.” She said calmly, quietly, and yet somehow her voice carried over the wind to me. “But there have been those who have called me the child of the Skye.”

Why would I create such a place as this? Why would I create all this, and her? All of it seemed a meaningless jumble. 

Because you lost your way. Because you spent too long in the shadows. Because, little by little you allowed the light to fade. Because you are losing the battle. Because though there are hospitals, doctors, and nurses, therapists, psychics, scholars… they claim to understand an enemy that barely know. For them it matters little that as they peddle their simplistic solutions to problems they openly admit they do not understand, it is their patient that bears the burden of not only the disease, but the failed interventions.

It was on the second day of walking that I finally found the light in the distance, the orange glow I had been promised. At times I wavered once more. It seemed like days following the orange glow. I questioned my course of action with each step I took.  A few times I even turned and looked back, but all I could see was darkness. 

As I drew closer I could feel a radiating heat and the dim glow was now a fantastic illumination. It seemed so out of place here in the fog and shadows. I could only imagine that the master of this place was a powerful being indeed, and Skye’s urgance that I journey here began to make a little more sense. The glow roared and flickered in the distance and grew as I pressed on. Finally I arrvied at the base of a true mountain, with a giant river of lava flowing down before me. It was like looking down the gullet of a mighty dragon through the fog. 

But there was no one to be found.

I wandered around the lava lake for most of an hour but all I found was more lava and more mountain. The air was eerily silent, as if the wind was afraid to blow here and the echoes as well. 

It was then that I stumbled, falling face first into the ashes. At first I believed myself to be merely clumsy, but there was a stone or some hard object sticking from the ground.  I eagerly dug away the ashes to find an engraved plaque. 

Those we call Watchers must know Night from dawn

And thirst for the chance to fight all Night long.

In battle eternal, we wait for the dusk

Ashes to ashes and dust to dust

Suddenly the ground in front of me began to move. 

She was tall and muscular for a woman. She was younger then the Sky child, and seemed to belong amongst the debris from which she rose. Her eyes were colorless but burned with intensity and sharpness. Her hair could be described as blonde, but it was about as colorless as her eyes. Her face was as impassive as the other and she seemed to be waiting for something, whether it was for him to speak he knew not.

“Let me guess, I haven’t given you a name.”

She said nothing, but kept her gaze locked with mine.

“Is this… forge yours?”

She said nothing, but turned and walked towards the flames. She plunged her hand into the molten lava and murmured something inaudible. When she drew it back out it gripped a small polished dagger. It was small, but the metal gleamed in her hand like a torch. She returned to me and tossed it up in the air, flipping it and catching it on the blade so that the handle was extended to me. Though the metal looked sharp it did not even scratch her. I took it in my hand examined it closely, turning it at angle. Though I know little of metallurgy, it was obviously a fine piece of work, as if she had spent many days refining it. There were small inscriptions on either side of the blade itself, but I struggled to make out the words.

When I looked up to question her about it, I found she had vanished completely and without a sound. Again, more questions then answers, but I could see only one logical path from here.

©️ 2022, Accountec, LLC

Farther then Far Away

I have lost my way before, it's true. I have retreated into the distance, pulling back from the world in pursuit of shelter from the storm. But this... this perversion of existence I am now facing... I could not have imagined it. Before I had more questions then answers, and I yearned for those answers and the clarity I thought they would bring. But now... now there are no answers at all. Worse, I fear the answers so intensely that I no longer seek them.

After so long of feeling lost, without purpose, without shelter... I feel like I have to redefine those words to incorporate this new reality.  It's been days here in this void, stumbling through the darkness. I know not what this place is or why I'm here. I have no map, nor compass or path to guide me. Even the stars are denied to me. The fog that surrounds me does not discriminate between earth and sky. 

The air is cold and colder still... by now the chill echoes in my bones, as if the very air is trying to assault me. With each shiver I can feel the bones vibrate. It's a cold  that penetrates so deep it seems impossible to ever expel. With each additional day I can feel it sapping the life out of me. 

And oh the darkness! Nothing but darkness for days on end... I begin to wonder if my eyes have lost the ability to discern the colors and shades. How can I remember the light when all I see is darkness? Memory is a fickle beast, and the longer I stay here the faster it fades, as if forgetfulness is an infection spreading and amassing in my soul. Personality is but a mere concept - and a laughable one at that - when the memories and emotions are stripped away.

I have become a mere essence, drained of humanity, devoid of emotion... as colorless as the world around me. I struggle to understand what is happening, how this world has changed me to be just as empty and transparent as it. More then that, I struggle to understand why. I never wanted this, though I must admit in some sense I knew it was coming. I knew that I was going the wrong direction. But, as before, answers are not to be found, and my desperate search only yields more questions, more doubts, more fears. Yet I continue my inquisition, even as it offers nothing in return. I have to know. I must know. Despite my fears. Even if I don't like the answers. Even if...

In my struggle, I keep coming back to the same question: to recall how I got here. For surely, if I know my origin then I can decipher my destination? One minute I was running, running… and then my mind slipped away, like a leaf in an autumn breeze. Everything I had done to try to correct my direction had blown up in my face, but still somehow I had thought that I would find a way. And I kept telling myself that, with each passing day, with each passing failure, with each passing warning sign I told myself that somehow, some way, things would get better. But really, I was just echoing the voices around me, the voices of people who also didn't understand where this path was going... or worse, they knew where it was going, but refused to acknowledge that fact. Because every story has to have a happy ending, the hero has to prevail. But I see now that this denial only accelerated the journey. I needed someone to hit the emergency brakes at a time when no one was willing to acknowledge that the train was about to derail.

So now I am here. One of things few things I know for sure is that the most immediate reason for my predicament is denial. My denial, that the shadows were an asylum, that the darkness could be contained somehow... that somehow, someway, things were going to get better even when nothing was going right. My insistence grew out of that common need that we all embrace: the need to believe that things will get better.

But regardless, now I here I stand. Those others, the things they did or didn't do, the denial, the bandaid solutions, the abandonment, the demonization, the slipping away into the shadows... I have to find a way out of here and there's only one person who can help me now... and that is myself. And the truth is... the hard truth, is that in this fight I am better off alone. Because as little as I understand about what is happening, the others understand much less.

Yet I cannot say that I have any idea of how to even begin. There is a strangeness about this place that cannot but make one uneasy. The wind is never still, but merely varies in its violence. In its calmer extremes it is easy to hear the whisperings of numerous voices, but the words are nonsensical and disjointed. At times the tone reeks of conspiracy, violence or even rage, but at others it veers into persecution and flights of panic. It is like nothing I have ever known before. It is my one constant companion, one that I would gladly be rid of. 

The sky is constantly weeping, and at first one might think it snow. But in catching a flake or two no moisture cools your palm. The flakes are dry, and disintegrate readily into a chalky substance that could only be ashes... cold dead ashes that carry the faint scent of recent combustion. And the ground is completely covered in them, as if death itself surrounds you. 

Distant flashes of light echo all around me, and through the haze I can make out what I could only call echoes... visions that are deeply familiar, some that I recognize and some that I do not... and many I would rather not ever be reminded of. This place... I fear I have already been here too long. For I am learning the subtle ways of the Night. It has the ability to mislead. To trick and deceive, and thus you must always be on guard... watching the night. 

Eventually, after an eternity of plodding (though earnestly the timing I know not, but only the impression), a flash of lightning erupted, and in that moment, in the distance, one thing finally became clear: a hilltop, upon which sat what appeared to be ruins. Nothing else could be seen but desolation, and the light was gone just as quickly as it had come. 

My course of action suddenly obvious, and my weariness of this place by now acute, a sudden vigor embraced me and within a small flame erupted, defiant against the cold deadness of my surroundings. 

I set forth, jogging at first and then breaking into a run. Somehow the darkness seemed to realize my aim, and around me the native forces whipped up into a crescendo of a witheringly cold and brutal wind and loud screams and exclamations. Faster and faster I ran, but these dark forces magnified further... the air so thick with ashes and so cold, that my lungs cried out... the ground so loose and uneven that I barely kept my feet... 

I fought collapse with every step, but the reaction of the world only pushed me to press on harder and harder. It was defiance for the sake of defiance, a kind of senseless purpose that, though inane, was the only motivation I could generate in this place. 

And then, just like the lightning, it was over as quickly as it began. I collapsed upon the precipice, as the wind died away and the air began to clear. A light spread slowly, and with it a warmth, but from what source and what power I was not aware. 

I was suddenly delirious, the exertion and the journey seeming to hit me all at once. I gasped for air as darkness filled my vision. Just when I thought I was going to black out, my strength rallied. 

A voice was speaking, and it was not of the wind. It was calm, sure, slow, and deliberate... everything I was not at the moment. I raised my eyes to see someone standing before me, and though her words washed over me, at first I could not make sense of them, as if she was speaking a foreign language.

She was slightly pale. For the life of me I could not deduce her age. She could have been under 30 or over 50 for all I could tell. Her pale skin bore multiple scars, but the scars only seemed to add rather then detract from her appearance as only well earned scars can. She was almost beautiful, in a worn and faded way. She had a constant but serene gaze that seemed to know me well somehow, though I was certain I did not know her. She did not smile nor did she frown. She did not seem threatening nor welcoming. Her shoulder length hair was pulled back in a ratty pony tail. Her clothes were little more then rags, grey and ill fitting, with a frayed skirt and top. 

But the thing that struck me, that captivated me, that I could not ignore, was her eyes. For days I had trudged through the darkness, with nothing but shades of grey to greet me. Not a single shade that was not gray, and that remained true... except for her eyes. They were a pale blue, but as weak as the color was, against the greyness it seemed shattering and powerful. She looked down upon me as if she had been expecting me for an eternity, and I knew not who she was or what answers she might bring.

Yet I couldn't help but sense that I had reached my destination.

©️ 2022, Accountec, LLC

A Ghost in the Shadows

I can honestly say I never understood the world. I was naïve. The people around me told me I had to change, to be like them. I wanted to, but I could not. So instead, I changed in other, much different ways, till eventually I did not recognize myself anymore.

As the world around me demanded more and more of me I tried less and less because the gap between what I could do and what they wanted was already a canyon. I wanted to be like them. I envied their communication skills, their focus, and above all their organization and ability to make sense of things. I wanted to jump that canyon. I didn't want to be a project, I wanted to be a success, but still be me. And eventually I would try to jump a canyon, though not successfully. For now, I learned to live in the shadows. The further you slip into the shadows the less they notice you. At first, it was almost like a beautiful serenity, like an emancipation. I no longer cared what they wanted, what they thought, what they demanded. And they found my absence to be no great loss in turn. No more conversations, no more greetings, not even eye contact. 

And yet there were plenty of people trying to "fix" me. Their motivations, intentions and diagnostics of the problem and the solution varied, but they had one thing in common: they failed miserably. their simplistic and erroneous solutions failed to do that one crucial thing: understand the actual problem. Often times they would take whatever belief system or therapeutic approach that they ascribed to and throw it at me without little or no understanding of what the problem was. And ironically oftentimes when they failed, they would blame me, which is why eventually I came to accept it was my fault and that I had to change who I was. In short, these experts were far more toxic then helpful.

One of the first people that was supposed to "fix" me was Dr. Wade Clapton. Dr. Clapton had a great enthusiasm for two things: recently developed CBT and computerized testing for ADHD. I don't think he liked me, and I developed a keen hatred for him. He pushed CBT like a dealer pushes drugs. When it didn't work, he upped the dosage. After some time, he realized that he didn't know what he was doing when it came to me and referred me elsewhere, to my relief. 

But the world as I knew it had changed. The sun and the sky and the stars were still there… majestic, powerful, massive, bright. Yet though I could still see them, and name them all, and describe them in the same terms, they had changed. A coldness had slipped in somewhere along the way. No matter how long I stared, nothing stared back, only a void. I walked through the world, seeing friends and family and going to class and doing what always had been life for me… but to my despair the term "life" no longer applied. I was imitating. 

Now, not only was I a ghost, but the shadows had claimed me along the way. They had become a part of me, pushing out everything I used to be. And still, I didn't understand.

How do you argue with a shadow? How do you talk to the sky?

With no options as to course of action, I got used to the fade. No longer able to relate to those I left behind in the light, I took refuge in the shadows, alone. There was at least a strange sort of peace there.

Every time I returned my attention to the gritty earth, I was shocked by what I saw. People passed by that I knew, but somehow, I could not recognize them. And if perchance they noticed me (they rarely did), they had the most dramatic reactions… most hurried away, a couple heckled me mercilessly. There was a music in the background. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from, but I had never heard anything like it.

The strange thing was that as time passed, the light became almost as dim as the shadows. So much so that i could barely tell the difference between the real world and the one I had adopted. 

Belatedly, I came to realize that my adoption of the shadows was not one sided, that there was an agenda that was exponentially bigger than I imaged, and the shadows were just the beginning, merely agents of something much more intent... and far more powerful.

The light was dying faster and faster now, and I was becoming increasingly frantic. I tried everything I knew to try, but without exception it all just blew up in my face and I began to wonder where all this was going. I felt like a leaf on a raging river. I was so disconnected from the world that I couldn't trust my judgment anymore.

As dusk settled, I found that the frenzied energy drained out of me. Confusion rallied, but emotionally I was blank. The only thought that broke through this confusion was to seek help, any kind of help, for whatever this was. Then, like a child, I pounced on a simplistic answer and rallied around it. It was the only thought that pierced the confusion: Help, I need help. Hospitals help people.

I started running faster and faster, though it seemed in slow motion. I could hear people calling after me, I could see the alarmed faces. Then I was outside and into the trees. Bursting onto the road, I picked the direction that I was sure would lead me to the hospital, though I knew not why. But once I got to the hospital, they would help me, I was sure of it.

My surroundings blurred. The last thing I remember was running, running down the road faster than I thought I could. And yet, I never made it to the hospital.

©️ 2022, Accountec, LLC

I Watch the Night

 I am the Watcher. I watch the night.

And when it’s not looking, I chase the light.

- ShadowsNdust

And so I came to fear this night that was falling across all of my life. I still had more questions then answers. Why was this happening? Why me? Why was it getting worse? Was there a way to stop it? If couldn’t stop it, where would this all end?

When the night strikes, there is no concept of innocense. When the night strikes, it destroys things. Nothing is more powerful then the night. But I quickly came to realize that I was the only one who could blunt its blows. I was the only one who could contain it. So I watch the Night, every minute of every hour.

The Night is relentless. The danger is constant. So I must be vigilant. I must be ready when the night strikes. And maybe, over the next horizon, dawn awaits…

Light!

Cascading down in a stream so luminous that one cannot fathom darkness, so clear that you cannot imagine haze. The sun, rising in the morning, slowly, silently, the massive sphere climbing up into the sky. Beautiful beyond all appreciation, with rays of energy that could blind, incite, and most importantly, give life. The magnificent orb stands as a bulwark against the Night.

Yet unlike the sun we are bound to the dirt. We take for granted that though the sun may set, it will come back to us again each morning. We aspire to the greatness and majesty of the sun, the stars, the vast expanses that few have even skirted, and almost all will only know by looking up into the heavens. We fear not the darkness, for the dawn is never far.

But what if dawn doesn't come? What if the Night can keep you, over all protestation? What if the darkness persists, and that dawn never comes?

Then everything changes. In little more then an instant you become a ghost in the shadows, a handful of dust. You will see the people around you, but somehow be as far away from them as the earth to the sun. The world around you loses its allure. You hide in shadows, praying for the light but clinging to the Night. You will stand alone. But above all, you will learn the Night. You will stand in the darkness watching the Night... knowing that it could destroy you or everything you hold dear. When you truly know the Night, you know the danger is real. You become vigilant beyond all reason. You learn the things that they don't teach you out beyond the shadows. And, yes, it changes you, though you likely would deny it.

I can remember when I first slipped into the shadows....

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