This is very long, fyi, but under the word limit.
No, he wasn’t human. Maybe, that wasn’t such a bad thing, after all.
I glance at the being who led me here, appearing in my subconscious, drawing me from a hazy dream to… this place. He has a humanoid form but it does not seem fixed; his hair flows as if it were underwater, his eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen, his hands shimmer - almost as if his skin were golden light and the flesh beneath was darkness.
He turns away, all at once yet it does not surprise me, and begins a slow… walk? Float? Each of his feet fall in the pattern of the way a human would walk, but they do not seem to actually touch the ground. Is he getting higher? Yes, he is, as if he were walking an invisible staircase to the clouds.
I look around at the calm, grey void I found myself wandering into just a few minutes ago. Or, was it longer? Time is hazy here. This place is like an absence of time, of distraction, of pain, of everything. It’s just…empty. All that is here is the absence of things that could be, and me, and the being who stands quietly in front of me, suspended in the air.
My friend has stopped. He turns to look at me patiently, and beckons. Follow him? Yes, yes I will.
I take my first steps forward, and then, I take my first steps up, and I do not fall. I know how to climb this invisible staircase as if I have done everyday in my life. Maybe I have – maybe my life before here was a dream, and this is my homecoming? Could it be so?
It could.
I think he spoke to me. I didn’t know he could.
I can.
I haven’t even said a thing aloud!
Here, there is no distinction.
Oh. Well, if it is, then it must be.
I’m climbing the sky at a leisurely pace, I think, but I can’t really tell where the floor I was standing on was. I suppose that too was not visible to me? I didn’t notice before. How silly.
My friend is waiting for me a few steps ahead. Does he want to show me something?
I do.
I like this, to be honest with you. I like sharing my inner monologue, like a conversation. It feels as if my whole life I have been alone, and now at last I have company.
I felt the same, when I was first here.
You were like me?
I was. Now, see what I am like:
He spreads his arms, and the layer of light that makes up his skin leaves golden traces in the air - like feathers, and the mass of pure, beautiful darkness within him is unveiled. The dark fleshes out the wings that his light created, and he flies.
I have never seen anything more beautiful.
There are clouds, here. We must be high enough to see them. Soft, like candyfloss, but infinitely delicate and wholly soothing and soft and I wonder if I could sleep upon them. It’s like being in the sky – now, blue peeks through the grey that hangs still.
Come.
I hear my guide clearly even though he is far and his mouth never moves – he floats effortlessly, dives and spins effortlessly, brings light to a world of grey sky and tiny white clouds effortlessly, and I wish I could do as he does.
You can.
But, I am not made of light, as you are.
Not yet. But for now…
He glides over to me and lands so smoothly I barely notice that he is now standing beside me on an invisible pane I had not before noticed, I am still perched on the ‘step’ from before.
It was always here, and it was always not.
I don’t understand.
If you believe that when you step forward, you will not fall, then you will not.
I try this. Gently, I take the next step, and I do not fall. It’s like I always say, if it is then it must be.
Now, my friend, are you ready to fly?
I am.
He takes my arm in his hands and draws out a long, beautiful, glittering wing like that of an eagle but softer and rounded and peaceful. Then he does the same on the other side.
But, these are only the feathers, the outline. I need these wings fleshed out, like he did with his darkness.
You can do that yourself, then he takes flight, coming to rest on a cloud not far from me to watch my struggle. No, not struggle – my journey.
Now, what can I use to create my wings?
I still wear blue pyjamas, will those work?
No.
The only other thing I have is skin.
No.
What else could I use?
Think. Do just as I did.
Just as he did…
I turn my right palm towards the trail of light that hangs from my left arm. Maybe… maybe I have that darkness too? And then all of a gradual sudden it comes out of my fingertips, like an echo of a long-forgotten memory, an echo of the names of my earliest childhood friends, an echo of every time I’ve ever been sung ‘happy birthday’, and it is a beautiful darkness.
Just like mine… And then I have wings and they are beautiful too.
Just like mine.
Just like his. And I too take flight.
133Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIBYEwbi9tg
It has been a while, maybe hours-
You need to let go of those human time slots. Let go of the need to be somewhere. Let go of deadlines and let go of the insolent way you humans try to squeeze something as broad and beautiful as time into those tiny boxes.
It’s the most he’s ever said. So, I take heed.
It was been a long while, and now we are ready to move on. This time, we need no stairs, we fly up and up and up until the clouds thicken around us in a comforting layer of nature’s finest accomplishment.
Not an accomplishment, just a thing that came to be.
It is, so it must be.
It is, so it must be. What a curious phrase.
It’s one of my own invention. Helps to keep me calm.
Why, that is why we chose you, your calmness.
Chose me?
For the chance to be here. Now, come! And he shoots upward, breaking the surface of the clouds as if they were a sea that we were swimming in before, that I still lurk under the surface of. Light shines through like a promised land. I glance around. The clouds are thick, like fog; I like this area a lot better than the void, but both comfort me.
Come, friend.
I put power into my wings, pulling them in a strong stroke to propel myself upward, and upward I go, until I too break the cloud’s shifting surface and emerge into the place I’ve always belonged.
We’re in a building, a structure, a temple? It looks too intricate for day to day use, made of strong, seamless grey and white stone of an unidentifiable nature. Unlike many things in this world, it holds steadfast and does not shift or change; it is solid, it is powerful, and it feels like home.
Sky is where the roof should be, like the stadium where I watched my first football match. The ground is faded carpet like my bedroom when I was young. There are so many memories woven into this place, and we are only in the grand hall – what is in the rooms?
More of the same, yet different. Don’t worry, you’ll see it soon. Right now, we need to continue the tour.
This is a tour?
Why of course. I have showed you the grey, where we all started, and the clouds, where we all journeyed through, and home, the place we built just for you. Next is the city, and last is the place where you finish. The place where you become just like me, where you will be painted by heavenly light. Is this what you want?
I want it more than anything.
Then you shall have it. But first, the city.
I notice that his wings have faded, and mine too, so how will we go to this city?
Why, my friend, you must not think that to fly is the only way to travel. Don’t be sad, soon you will be able to fly as much as you please. It feels even better when your wings are feathered by your own light, trust me.
Now I will guide you through the process.
Process? He does not reply but take my hands in his and motions for me to close my eyes. I do, and oh! With my eyes shut, I see everything clearer, and my vision is no longer tied so firmly to the places my eyes can look but rather I can see all that there is and, oh, all that there is… perfect.
Find the city.
Find the city, the city, the city – I scan this world and I find it. A smudge on the map. A mistake. This is no fine city.
The city is where we keep the rejects. Don’t worry, we do not have to touch them or see too much. We walk above, on a clean silver pathway, like all angels should.
I find myself relieved. Maybe my old self would have also found horror in this relief… my old self? Yes, that’s right, I am anew now. I am new. Who am I-
It is for the better, my friend.
Yes, if it is then it must be, and if it must be here then it must be good.
Now focus on the city, focus on the pathway…
When I open my eyes, we are there. The change of place was not jarring, but soothing – the world twisted and unfolded somewhere brand new, like a tablecloth in a magician's trick. Somewhere with clouds and silver light and a path in the sky laid with silver bricks. My guide still holds my hands, but his light is silvery here rather than gold – not grey. Never grey, but silver. An angel like him always shines.
Look down, my guide utters, moving to the rail-less edge of the pathway.
I follow, and move my gaze from the beauty to the beautiful devastation. Humans, tens of thousands, living in horrid conditions, shelters built from sewn-together pyjamas and held up by stacks of nightlights and teddy bears and they all sleep on ratty pillows. And the humans themselves, they are so wrinkled and abused by time that they look as if they may just wither away any second.
I reach inside myself for a reaction, but I am calm. There is nothing inside.
Good.
I don’t think this is good. Good, that I do not care for my own?
They are not your own. Not anymore. These here are rejects. You have not failed, you have flown.
So, it is good?
If it is, then it must be, and something about that phrase soothes in me my last thread of emotion. It smothers my last idea of rebelling, and with it goes the last beat of my heart. Now, I am a shell of who I was, and I like it.
Good.
It is, isn’t it?
Yes, my friend. Now you can be just like me, and I’ve never been more content in my life. I turn away from the pit of the city, and I look on to where this path leads.
There’s where you get your light.
A smile spreads across my face. I am calm. I am peaceful. I am happy. Forever.
I am empty, giddy with muted joy.
We begin to walk in the direction of my future but the path seems to move in on itself, delivering us to the door in less than a second. There is no building, but there is a door, which I open.
Inside is a grand room. The floor is wooden, the ceilings are high, and there are four grand seats. Then I look away and instead there are stools. Like a dream, everchanging, but it does not matter because I hardly remember what there was before.
I step through. My guide does not follow. I miss him. No, I don’t. If it is then it must be.
You’re a noisy one, someone speaks. You need to learn to think less.
If I must, then I shall.
Learns fast, another voice.
They are so calm, another. Perfect.
My child, do you wish to be one of us?
Yes, I do. I want nothing more than to belong.
You have only one duty. To take yourself into human’s dreams, and bring them here. If they do not meet our standards, you must dispose of them. Do you understand?
Yes, I do, and I am willing.
Our creator, your guide, began this place when he brought me from my dream to his. Since then, we have been trying so hard to populate, but these emotional humans can’t seem to let go. You are one of six successes.
You have stopped thinking. That is good. You do not need an internal monologue. You do not need individuality. Understand?
Yes, I do.
When you entered what is to be your home, what did the skylight remind you of?
I do not know…
And the carpet?
I do not know... and I have no desire to.
Very good. I promise, here you will ever be calm. Close your eyes.
What about my real home?
Home? Your real home? Describe it to me, friend.
I-I... I cannot.
You don't remember? How curious. It's okay, friend, you never need to wake up. Dream with us.
Now close your eyes.
...
All done. Now, you will be safe forever. You will live in this world forever and never reach it's edges.
And the angels applaud.
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