Here, JTY Died

Dear reader,

Every now and again I am inspired to a great degree, and this inspiration finds itself in the form of a short story.  I have attempted to write to you multiple times without avail, so instead, breaking my pattern of poetry or philosophy, I offer you this story of death and rebirth.  I hope that it is an encouragement to you in this particular season, on this first day of winter.

-J

Here, JTY Died

My eyes strained to see through the black solid that surrounded me. Air it was not – in fact, I could feel the matter slide in and out of my lungs as I inhaled and exhaled. The inky, silky undergrowth beneath my feet could be made out by a dim, green outline: I could see each individual blade of grass. The nightmarish jungle that I was pushing my way through was mostly dark, with maroons, deep purples, and sickly blues accenting the putridity on my every side, but all these things weren’t the greatest hallucinogen: even though I was entirely alone, the voices of hundreds of people filled my ears. I heard no individual word, but still they droned on.

The tendrils of a dark mushroom coiled around my feet as I stood still for a moment, heaving for breath, cold sweat pouring from every pore of my body. Panicky, I shook it off and stumbled a few more steps forward, but one last vine had caught my boot, and I crashed to the ground. My face landed inches from a tree with black bark that had disgustingly dry Spanish moss hanging from every possible limb and leaf. It soaked up every inch of the solid air – if air it was – around me, and after a short few seconds the dripping sweat from my brow began flying up to the moss at an absurd speed. I could feel the liquid draining from my body; I was unbearably thirsty. I tried to pull away, but couldn’t escape. Inexplicably, my face was drawn closer to the tree, and fading into my view, scratched in bloody letters in the rancid bark, were the words, “Here, JTY Died.”

A scream – maniacal laughter.  The wind whistled through this forest, the metalic clank of a child’s swing-set above my head, and I could see the dilapidated fort of my past eaten alive by the tree above me.  I tore away from the tree as fast as my legs would carry me, breaking loose the tentacles that had worked their way up my thighs.  A molting owl screeched overhead and dove towards me, driving me away from…wherever it was I was going.  I knew I had to get there, but if I tried to correct my course the beast would cut my head and hands with his talons and beak.  Suddenly I was hurtling through razor-sharp bulrushes; splashing through murky water.  Tiny green thorns cut my skin, and yelping in pain I pulled away.  My arms, scratched and torn, letters appearing in blood, “Here, JTY Died.”

I was still moving, heard splashing ahead, a faint cry for help.  I couldn’t save myself, I knew, but if I was breathing I’d ensure that they weren’t lost.  I tore through the rushes, the haunting phrase etching itself in blood on my legs and hands and face, when I suddenly broke into a clearing.  The marsh I’d been struggling through crescendoed into a cesspool of dread, and faces – more nightmarish than Tolkien’s bloodiest dreams – broke the water every few feet.  Faces of my past, unmarked faces of my future: all broken, all dead, eyes staring, unseeing, upwards.  And there, in the middle of the pond, was a black island of grass and rock, with a single body laying sprawled, limbs at odd angles, as if it had fallen from a great height. 

After a moment’s hesitation I plunged into the water, but instantly fell many feet downwards, as if I had stepped off a cliff.  I wasn’t wet; in fact, the pool seemed dryer than the air I had recently left, but the nightmare of the upper world continued as I descended lower.  I regretted my decision to save whoever was suffering on the island now many yards above my head, as Frodo regretted his choice to follow the lights in the marsh.  And just as with him, hundreds of ghostly faces hungrily rose to meet me and usher me to my doom – their long hair wrapping around my neck and pulling me ever downwards.  I could not fight against them, my hands grasped for whatever they could find, and just when I knew all hope was lost, a silver rope found my grip, and I hauled myself upwards.  Many of the ghouls fell off my body as I started to climb, but a few stubbornly held on as I approached the surface.  The line began to shimmer the further up I got, until it was nearly blinding; a blast of light sent the remaining three ghosts hurtling back to the oblivion from where they came.  Clawing my way onto the land, I lay there gasping, now soaking wet, struggling to breathe against the fetid air.  Almost immediately I wished I were back down with the specters, where my surroundings were easier, even if I was steps away from death.

“The silver lining finally saved you, huh?”

Perplexed, I turned to see who was speaking.  Why was I here?  I looked back towards the pond, and the rope was nowhere to be seen.  …what rope?  I couldn’t remember.

“Hindsight isn’t always 20/20, you know.”  The boy coughed, his pale skin accenting his blue hair.  He wore pajamas, the old kind with feet, and a tattered red blanket was tied around his neck like a cape.  Solid white eyes looked at me through a purple mask, and he attempted to smile.

“My name is Sam.  The Darkness and I were friends once, you know.”

At his words, the space seemed to close around us, and I could see nothing more than his body and the sparse grass at his sides.  He seemed extremely familiar.

“JTY came here to die.”  It wasn’t ominous.  It wasn’t derogatory.  It was obvious to me from his tone that whoever this JTY was knew what he was doing.

“He didn’t have to.  I tried to save him, but he forgot me.”  The boy’s injuries were substantial – several broken limbs, haggard breathing, blood pour from open wounds, but he didn’t seem to notice.  He was too concerned with me.

“You’ve been friends with Darkness too.”  An observation of fact I innately knew to be true.  He squinted up at me; we both knew I couldn’t save him.  “Don’t…don’t forget me, ok?”

“Of course not.”  I fumbled for more appropriate words, but nothing came.

He untied his mask and handed it to me.  “Don’t forget You.”

He stopped breathing, and his body disintegrated into the sooty soil on which he lay.  His whispering voice echoed in my head, “Otto can take you to shore.  Don’t go back to the depths of despair.”

I straightened from where I had been kneeling over him and tied the mask around my head.  My field of view widened, and there, at the edge of the island barely obscured by the mist, was a worn old dinghy made of wood, without a moor.  The name “Otto” was painted on one side in black letters.  My breathing was still labored in this dense air, but taking the word of the boy, I tried to lose the thoughts of the deadly appealing waters that surrounded me.  Climbing into the boat named Otto, I glanced over the side and caught my reflection.

I had blue hair; my skin was pale, and pure white eyes stared back at me through the purple mask.

The boat began moving on its own, taking me into the fog, across the water.  The solid air pushed my wavy hair back as we progressed – I could feel it slide past my face.  Otto slowly came to a stop at the edge of the cesspool, and I climbed out.  I could feel the red cape billowing at my back as I stepped ashore.  Otto creaked and turned back towards the island – waiting.  I looked down at my hands and legs.  The bloody words had turned into small white scars: still visible, but fading even as I watched.  Some mysterious force propelled me forward into the bramble of twisted dark trees, as if there was something calling to me.  The voices continued in my head, swelling in volume even though the words were still incomprehensible, and as I walked forward, one voice rose above them all, singing one unwavering melody.

In the distance I could see a single point of white light.  It was near the height of my stomach, and it shone like a star through the foul wood of blackness around me.  I began to pick up my pace from a walk, to a jog.  In moments I was tearing through the undergrowth yet again – I had to get to that light.  The voices got louder and louder in my head; over the din I could still hear the single song beckoning to me.  Trees reach down to stop me, ghastly hands rose up from the ground, hands I recognized, but still I pounded through the forest, determined to be requited against the foul world of Darkness once and for all.

At the thought of his name the entire land was brought to bear on my mind, on my body.  It became nearly impossible to move, as if I were walking through molasses, and cackling screams of malevolent joy overtook the beautiful voice ahead.  I fell and the star flickered; it threatened to go out and leave me in despair.  “NO!” I screamed with all my might and pushed myself off the ground.  Stumbling forward a few more steps, my surroundings immediately changed, as if I stepped from one world into another.

The voices ceased, and all I could hear was the song, gently urging me forward.  All around me was pure, soft white.  The tree trunks, which were formerly crashing down upon me, weighing my body down with their black boughs, now stood upright.  Their leaves were a dull gold, and a soft, warm wind blew through their branches.  I felt exposed and vulnerable – my greenish skin and blue hair standing out starkly against the spotlessness of this hallow, but I felt perfectly safe. In the center of the clearing, hanging on a cane implanted in the ground, was an Evenstar.

The cane on which the Evenstar hung was the only black object here, its head an antelope, made of silver.  A long chain held the jewel suspended, and as I looked, a pulse of energy blasted outwards from it, forcing the evil and Darkness away, leaving me alone.  I took a tentative step forward, encouraged by the voice, and stretched out a hand towards the Evenstar.  For a brief second, as I was inches away, I could hear whisperings, secrets of my childhood, and imaginings of the future – incandescent happiness playing on the edge of my consciousness, and I grasped the jewel.

There was a blinding flash, and I retracted my grip.  The black forest, which had previously been just steps away, was completely gone.  The shimmering white wood took its place as far as I could see in every direction, and where the cane had been, She stood.  The Evenstar hung gracefully from her neck, and she wore a long blue dress that flowed with the caresses of the wind.  She smiled at me, and ran a slender finger along my cheek.

“My dear Goldenheart.  How far you’ve come for me.”  Her voice was like a creek playfully slipping over worn stones, the crisp leaves of fall in a pile, and the song one never forgets that is written on the heart.  My weary bones were instantly put to rest, and I fell into her embrace.  Tears, both of joy and of a great toil come to rest, slid down my face.

There, JTY Died.  But here in Her arms, he came back to life.