Rise with the wind, my great big serpent;
Silence the birds and darken the air;
Change me with terror, alive in a moment;
Strike for the heart and have me there. - W H Auden
When was the last time that you weren’t afraid to die?
A wind of mixed moods and random colors is blowing in my face. It is not too late before I realize that it is only I that inspire the weather around. Only what I feel shall be materialized. I try to concentrate on a single emotion. Knowing who I am walking towards, intuitively, decisively and forcibly all at once, I stumble on that emotion. The winds speed up, slow down, and speed up again. But that is not it, something else is changing, the temperature, it’s dropping. The sand turns into snow, the swirling sandstorm into a snowfall. Each snowflake is beautiful and broken, beautifully broken!
I hadn’t slept in weeks. I hadn’t dreamt in months. The very thought of not being able to dream didn’t let me fall asleep. And while I was awake, she spoke to me; spoke to me like a child, a hungry child. She could hear my screeches, see me cry, watch me struggle, struggle to survive. And yet she would recite to me, verses that were no more heartening to a broken spirit than wine would be to a cadaver! But she would go on…
“Sing for me, smile for me.
In infinity, spare all while for me
You haven’t the skill, you haven’t the charm,
You can’t kill, you haven’t the arm.
So sing for me, and smile for me.
Dance for me, and die for me!”
Every time! Like seeing her wasn’t hard enough! It’s the snow, it’s getting crazier. I’m feeling lighter, it’s starting. She’s around. Playing with gravity has always been the first of her moves. Free fall - the most basic, universal form of fear, one the mind can’t sustain even while asleep. This is probably the worst of her strengths. She’s predictable though, but not ever can you avoid how and when she induces herself within you. I can feel her now, Fiona, the angel of fear. I’m scared.
When was the last time that you weren’t afraid to die? A mere sight of her makes me fear life more than death.
“It’s pretty worthless saying this now, but I did tell you so.”
I decide to listen and say nothing. She never questions me. Never does she ask whether what she feels is right. She just knows everything! How? I have no idea.
“I had given you the power. You could have seen the probable future. But you chose not to, you just couldn’t resist the wind. You see, we were connected by an eternal love…” She continues.
“Stop it!” I interrupt.
I can’t see her. She has no face, and yet she has invaded me with love, and already evaded me with terror. I try to picture her with the most vivid of imagination. But I can’t, she won’t let me.
Where do we go from here? After what Tristan did, I’m no longer bound by the past. I carry it with me. I’m only scared of the present not being the same at times, and the future being exactly the same at the others. It’s when something becomes everything and everything else turns into nothing!
“I am not the passing thought. I’m here to stay, stir the forgotten dreams of your oblivious heart and paint you in ecstasy.” Words! Impact! Devilish!
“What do you want?” I ask, I don’t have energy left to talk in metaphors.
“You know what I want. I know that you know, it should be me that’s holding you! I was your constant companion. Hell! I was your only companion.”
“Fear and love do not go hand in hand. You of all should know that now. Let me be.” If you aren’t definite of anything, pretend. Pick one of the two choices and instead of yourself try, and convince someone else that it’s right. It helps. That’s what I’m doing, advocating a lie.
“You’re playing it all wrong. Don’t talk like them petty humans, you’re something more. You’re a seeker. You seek yourself within me. All I ask of you is to let me direct you. I’ve driven you this far. Only I can take you further. You see, we’re not that different after all. You’re like me, and that’s why you like me. You know that somewhere, every time, I represent you. You’re right, this isn’t love. It’s something more!”
Everything she says is either true or it is exactly what I have in mind. There’s no point in even trying to argue with her, even if I want to, I can’t. She knows things about me, things that even I’m ignorant of. How? More importantly, why? Is there a greater purpose to this?
“Let me walk with you.” She continues, “Even if we run into hell, you know that I’ll never leave your side. Isn’t that what you want, a constant companion. A bowl full of dust, sprinkled on a path! The dust heavier than gravity! The path, chosen by someone else! A choice, a rescue, in spite of your sins! Sins that you never committed! The rescuer, so much alike, to hypnotize! Hypnosis of fear! Hypnosis of love! Love of pride! Pride of what you have! Pride of what you haven’t, of surviving without it. ”
“No. That is something I’ve left behind. In earnest, I’ve no intentions of going back.” Long Pause. I say nothing else, I don’t have anything to. She’s thinking, I imagine.
“You do know why I’m placed here, at the second place, in this divine plan, a plan to perfection.”
“Yes, you’re supposed to be the strongest of them all. Nothing, and no one undeserving shall pass.”
“And yet, you dare to challenge me?”
A question, weird! Like I said, she never asks me anything. What is she up to. Is she falling weak, or only mocking me? She’s smiling. Remember the wicked smile? She’s definitely mocking me. She’s making me angry, yet a part of me is still more scared. I tend not to care about it. My biggest mistake!
“Where do you intend to take me?” I ask instead.
“A quest… just of your kind, seeker. A search of something greater than humanly desires. A search for strength in fear, for confidence in contemplation, for peace in chaos, for truth in fiction, for you in me!”
There’s again a pause, longer than last time. Another voice from behind is mumbling, rattling random words that I can’t make out. But it gets louder…
“Turn swiftly. Close the door behind you. Look down. Stay. Look up. Walk. Slow down. Struggle to keep your eyes open. Wish you could look back without turning back. But don’t turn. Walk on.” It’s not her. Though I can’t see her, I recognize her voice, it’s not Fiona.
Have I surpassed her? There was so much I wanted to say, so much more that I wanted to listen. I feel her presence but I can’t see her. I was never able to see her, but this is different.
“You’ll not feel my touch, but my fingerprints won’t fade.” It’s her again. Why do I feel relieved to hear her voice again? There’s something far more incomprehensible, far more evil going on here. This is not one of her tricks. She isn’t capable of doing this. I know it.
“You know that you want nothing you speak of. You speak of nothing you want. And so you have it, nothing!” The other voice again. She’s talking in whispers again. I’m going to go crazy if this continues. I might fight her now, but it’s done. No, it’s not! I’m scared, no I’m not! I’m loved. No, I’m not!
“Fiona! Fiona!” I call out of desperation. “Fiona, save me!”
“Fiona! Fiona!” I scream out of anger. “Fiona, stop it!”
Something extraordinary has happened. I didn’t do it, neither did she. Like I said, I know her, she isn’t capable of this.
I’m out of my body. I see myself, I hear myself saying this twice. Different things, different emotions, anger and fear. My soul has been split into two. One half has yielded to Fiona, while the other has somehow, for the first time in my life, outgrown her. He must be up against the next. I don’t know who that is. None of us do.
Fiona materializes in front of me, in front of the first me. She sees him, for the first time, lets him see her. They head north into the pines, it’s colder there. She loves winters.
“What would have happened to me, had I not accepted you?” He asks Fiona.
“You would have run into the eldest of us. She’s called Iris.”
“What is she like?”
She looks back at me, not him, the real me. She hasn’t caused this, but she knows what has happened. She knows that she hasn’t won entirely, but she’s aware of what she has captured and intends to make the best of it, to never let him go again.
“What is this? What have you done to me?” I ask.
“You’ll never find out. I’ll never let you out of my sight.” She tells him. Who was it meant for? Was she answering me or him?
She’s almost done with him. He’s back where he was. But he’s safe. I’m worried, but I’m not scared. I’m curious for the other one.
She’s right, I’ll have to follow the second me. But… wait! There are two me in front of myself, who am I then? Am I only a vengeful spectator of my own life? I pity them, and yet I envy them. They are young, they think they know everything. Ignorance! Acceptance of denial and denial of acceptance at once! Does it matter? Does anything at all matter? I’m stuck with freedom.
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