Silent Requiem

By Joseph Johnson

The soft grass beneath my feet slightly tickled my senses. The light breeze brushed past my arms. I had never felt sensations like this before, nothing so real. I pushed myself past the field of marble slabs as I made my way to a small group of people. The senses that had become so prominent seconds earlier now faded with my focus on those who stood with solemn stares. These people felt great pain and sorrow.

As I came closer to the group I noticed that these were people I once knew. My family, my friends, and others I loved. They stood around a lifeless vessel that I once called home. Realization pulled me from the blissful ignorance; it was then that I remembered who I was, and what I had done. I realized that the soft grass was barely real to me at all, I could feel nothing.

It is such a selfish thing to die; to leave the ones I loved behind. The eyes of my mother were swollen and wet, while my father drew quick, angry breaths. What was the emotion that led me to my death? The sadness, the anger, maybe both; no, it was shame that brought me to the end. Shame in myself, or rather the self that society looked down on. People I thought cared, abandoned me for a life with those who would never accept me. I can’t blame them though, if on the other hand I would do the same. It hurts me to know that, but there is no reason to lie anymore.

A scream jarred me; it was a cry that shook the very foundation of my soul. No one took notice, and the scream had no origin. All mouths were still closed in that solemn silence, but the terror of the scream pushed me through the crowd. No matter how much I listened with no ears, and pondered with no mind, the screams evaded me. It was then that a force more powerful than fear propelled me. It was a pure force. The only way to truly describe the force would be angelic. I could believe in that; to believe in myself at that point would be to believe in some afterlife.

The powerful force led me to a familiar face. A young woman I loved, stood silently shaking. Her sobs made no sound, but the scream resonated through my core; such pain and anger. Did I ever forget her? Was she in my thoughts as I cut myself so deep? Regardless of my previous intentions, I had to do something to comfort her. So I reached, with a hand that I knew was not there. The hand slowly touched her and quenched her hungry spirit. The sorrow remained, but the screams slowly subsided. It is such a shame that this proud soul was crushed by such a selfish act. As she moved away and our souls parted, I remembered why I loved her. I was incomplete once again.

Instinct drove me to her. In her bedroom she slept with evil pressing ever closer. Unlike the force that pushed me toward her, this evil was present and visible. It was an ugly mass of darkness that hungered for destruction, and it was slowly inching toward her. The power of the mass mocked me with every move; it drew closer, but I could do nothing to stop it. So I let my tired soul sleep, and it wept with uncertainty.

When my soul regained whatever consciousness it could muster, I saw her again. When my focus was able to gather my surroundings I noticed that I was in our school. Darkness seeped through the windows and the doors, as if night had already fallen. The desk next to her was empty; it used to be my desk. I sat and watched her. Her hair was unkempt and her eyes sagged, there was no life left. Just as a tear started to streak down her face, a thin ray of light leaked through the room. As I searched for the source I realized that the darkness was moving, slowly letting light through. The mass I saw the night before was growing. The core of the mass appeared and stalked toward my love, the force that pushed me to her in the beginning now pushed me to fight, but I was afraid. The dark mass shouldn’t have terrified me, I didn’t even have a body. The fear was something I recognized; the evil was familiar.

It didn’t take me long to recognize the embodiment of shame, hatred, and torment. A grim fate of the spiritual world attacking the innocent; nothing could stop the omniscient power, especially not the feeble force that grew inside me. The force was love, but love could not save her. I needed anger, rage, and power. I needed to destroy this beast while it pushed closer to her. The more anger filled me, the farther I was driven from her. So I stopped; the anger subsided and was replaced again with hopelessness. The mass reached for her and the cry that hurt my soul before entered the small space of the classroom. More tears sprang from her eyes and she buried her shame in her hands. The beast grew in size.

As time went on and the beast grew even more menacing and thick with the fear of both my love and myself; hopelessness gripped at my soul, and I still watched, waiting for it to take her. It wasn’t until the next night that something terrifying happened. The mass was in a mad rage that caused it to move rapidly around her small room. She sat quietly on her bed, eyes closed and focused. My soul began to fret as her intent became clear. The raging essence of evil was excited and it raced around the knife on her bedside table. If a soul could weep mine did. Just as I heard her soul cry out, I believe hers heard mine, because she opened her eyes and clutched her heart. Doubt was setting in. Although the hope inside of me was small, it pushed me to her. The closest I had been since my death. I was hungry for her touch, or even the light scent that came from her hair. I could not experience such things anymore.

It was relatively easy to make my way to her while the darkness was distracted. It apparently had intent, and now so did I. Hope did not have to end with me; she could live a long, happy life as she was meant to. So I pushed toward her, full of ignorance and passion. The moment I came close enough to touch her; my soul began to tremble. I was there, able to feel the love I once felt again, but I knew it was impossible. At that moment my hand began to take form, and I began to sense a need for feeling within it. So I took that cold, dead hand and lightly brushed it on my loves dead cheek. What I felt was incredible. Her skin was ecstasy and it fed my radical desires. The implication of ever finding the sense again had evaded me to the point that the present feeling was obscured in uncertainty. My soul could only doubt the feeling. It couldn’t have been real.

I couldn’t stop there. My hand continued to caress her face lightly as other senses began to return to me. I cannot remember when my lips gained their feeling, but I remember the sensation when my lips touched hers. I kissed her deeply, but she made no advance to recognize my existence. For some reason I had hope that she felt me. Memories then filled her mind and my soul, such love that could not be broken by man or spirit. The mass became even more erratic and began smarming around me. I hated the spirit. I wanted it to die, but was powerless to stop it. We had the same power, to tempt the senses of those bound by physical bodies. It was a power that meant nothing.

Somehow I was being pushed. The spirit was advancing, and as it drew closer to my love I slowly drifted away. Soon my vision blurred and my surroundings became obscure. The physical vanished once again leaving me in the darkness, I could feel nothing. I was nothing. In that darkness I was wrapped in grief, misery, and anger. She was gone, and so I drifted farther and farther away from that life which I loved so dearly.

I could not stop. As much as it hurt I continued to hang on to that pain as I fell deeper and deeper, with no escape. That pain was life. No sense of time could dictate how long I fell in that pit, before the pain took me. So sharp and vicious was the knife that pierced my essence. At this point the prospect of letting go reached a new height, to fall to the bottom of that forsaken pit and end what life I had left. To give my life up would be to destroy everything I loved. She could not fight the evil alone, I saw that myself. She wouldn’t withstand the temptation without me. I needed to comfort her. I could not stop!

Light showered the darkness. Dare I say hope, entered what was left of my soul. After falling so far my soul was ripped to pieces, most of which still lay in the darkness, but I pushed forward. I made it through the breach of incredible light and found myself in darkness again. The mass was incredibly thick; no light anywhere, except one faint glow across the darkness. I stepped closer. The thick mass made it hard to traverse the room, but I still pushed forward. The enemy was all around me, it had consumed everything in her life, and all that was left was that faint light. The darkness wanted hope, to feed on it and destroy it. I extended myself toward the light; I felt the life, however faint, slowly shifting.

When I reached the light I found my love. She held a knife loosely in her hand while she gave off soft sobs. I reached for her but my broken soul could not comfort her. The darkness was taking on a somewhat human form. It circled her with lust and cruel intent. When it saw me the beast raised its dark hand. My love followed the motion blindly. The knife was then ready to take her life with the beast’s hand. Just as the darkness plunged its hand into its own heart, I threw myself at my love. I felt incredible pain reach every part of me. The knife ran through me, and into her. I was lost then. As the darkness engulfed her spirit I faded into my own darkness, but this time no hope remained. I let it take me deep, where I could never hurt anyone again.

Through the darkness I suddenly felt something I thought was lost. I could feel soft cotton on my feet, and the touch of skin on my hand. I opened my eyes to see darkness, but not the darkness I feared. I saw night. The body that lay unconscious next to me was cold and still. While my mind tried to regain consciousness I felt for my mortal wounds. I had no scars, except for those left on my soul. With new life I stood and walked out of my house. It was dark and cold, only a single orange light faintly glowed in the distance. The light was shrouded by a thick fog that made the darkness even more prominent. That is when I noticed that despite our efforts we were drowning; slowly suffocating in the thick omnipotent darkness.

Joseph Johnson is a senior English major at Georgia Southern University. His work has appeared in The Wiregrass, as well as in a previous issue of Synchronized Chaos.