Story: Into Darkness

Into Darkness

The cool silky water swept over me, soothing my body as I awoke to unfamiliar surroundings. White sands reached like great hands spanning far into the horizon, crystal clear white horse crested waves edged the beach, breaking gently along the idyllic shoreline. I lay there momentarily, allowing my thoughts to assemble themselves, as I attempted in vain to montage all recent memories into chronological order. Who was I?

Where was I? I had no recollection of any recent turn of events that would conclude with me awaking on a beach. My ears were ringing almost deafeningly, masking out all logical assumptions. My mind was racing, exaggerated by my rapid heart rate as I began to panic. I could hear the increasing sound of blood pumping in my head, feel the veins pulsating like stressed pipework groaning and creaking from the pressure. My vision was steadily blurring, like looking at the world through someone elses glasses or peering through frosted glass. My skin felt restricting like claustrophobia. But I was outside, deserted in solitude in alien surroundings. How did I get here?

I struggled to sit upright. My chest felt tight and my migraine screamed at me to stop moving about. My throat felt hoarse. Had I been drinking? These symptoms replicated, in extremity, the effects of a hangover, only amplified immensely in magnitude. My skull felt as though it had been hit with a baseball bat; repeatedly. And what was that taste? Copper? I brought my reluctant hand up to touch my mouth. My jaw felt sore, at the back where it met the bottom of my ear. I leant to one side coughing, bracing my stomach against the pain that racked my entire torso. My saliva settled onto the cocaine sand, mirroring the way the water looks on a white porcelain sink when you’ve cut yourself shaving. Watered down crimson saliva? Blood? What had happened to me

Heavy sun beat down onto my exposed frame, weak and vulnerable on this secluded coast. Still unadjusted, I staggered vertically upward shakily to my tentative feet. My white long-sleeved shirt was unbuttoned and ragged, torn chaotically along both sleeves, airing fresh cuts and scratches. My jeans were now reminiscent of 90’s fashion trends, tears and rips almost strategically positioned provocatively their entire length. My shoes were absent, my aching feet swollen and cut, like standing on a broken bottle on a nightclub dance floor. The warm sand sifted between my toes as I began my slow advance across this desolate paradise. How long would I be wandering on aimlessly?

It had been hours. The absence of my watch made accurate timekeeping impossible, however the sun had long ago began to sink into the horizon, casting a beautiful orange pink flare across the ripples of the calm ebbing ocean. I was yet to identify any remnants of a settlement, or even more bewildering, any signs of inhabitants. My weary legs grew evermore reluctant to continue. I’d steadily been heading away from the shoreline and incoming tide for some time, anticipating the possibility that I may need to sleep on the soft refined sand. Now in my weakened state, it appeared that time was nearing. I slowly continued reluctantly, scouting for a suitable bunker to retire for the day, though deep within, my patience was beginning to waver, cynicism overpowering.

I eased my tender back against a small dune, settling my body into a small gully. My empty stomach was slowly succumbing to starvation, whilst dehydration challenged my dry throat. Fatigue had easily bested me, so I lay down exhausted. After looking up at the clear starry sky for a few moments, consciousness began to fade away and before long I had drifted into a restless and fragmented sleep.

I awoke to the sound of seagulls and the welcome aroma of fresh salty ocean air. The cloudless sky was an elegant blue that held the bright midday sun eloquently above me. My clothes were soaked with perspiration, sticking to my famished frame. Sore ribs were prominent; my hips jutting out like cliffs at sea. I needed to eat, but first I’d have to encounter something edible.

I clambered to my feet, shaking straying sand from my clothing. Now, where should I head? All I could guarantee was that behind me was miles of sand and to my right was miles of ocean; I could attempt to catch fish I suppose, but the chances of that weren’t even worth acknowledging. Sure people do it in films or television programmes but that wasn’t actually comparable to reality. Ahead could potentially lay miles more sand, perhaps I could stumble upon a settlement, or maybe a shipwreck. But both were doubtful, the latter definitely a concoction of wishful thinking. Inland held optimism, the sand appeared to peak a few miles in and beyond that, well who knew what lay beyond that? So, my bearing was established, inland it would be.

I trudged inward toward the sun, the sinking white sand swallowing my ankles. The sun beat down heavily again as I soldiered on, exposed and susceptible to the brunt of its natural ferocity. My clothes hung heavily, but their protection was undeniably paramount to my avoidance of sunstroke, so it was a by-product I would grudgingly tolerate.

The sea was steadily disappearing, merging seamlessly into the skyline, the sand seemingly incessant as it enveloped me. The incline in height was evident as the sun cast long shadows rapidly toward the coast, almost as if mocking the distance I’d covered. But the summit was nearing; I could see that not much further ahead the sand levelled off by the way the sun rested high above it - my very own Star of David, leading me to my saviour.

I stumbled over the brow, fatigued but optimistic. What had it concealed? What was it masking from view? Sand stretched far into the distance, its white innocence ridiculing my hopeful anticipation. Presumably defeated I readied to collapse, until I noticed a small black form on the horizon. Far into the distance rested a silhouette, its profile suggesting it was a building, perhaps even a settlement. But without further exploration I couldn’t be sure. I fought back my temptation to rest and instead made a beeline toward it.

The flat delicate sand stubbornly shifted, impeding my approach as best it could, but my desire was too strong. My stomach roared, my throat rasped, my feet screamed for mercy. My ignorance was bliss, my hope masking out pain effortlessly. The building slowly came into focus, it’s features brash, it‘s architecture unrivalled. Enchanting white marble swept up from the sand into a towering structure of ancient splendour. Its exterior walls boasted engravings of inconceivable enormity, yet each was executed with unparalleled accuracy and grace. Adornments of flawless gold spiralled and snaked confidently amidst the etchings, strangely symbolic and suggestive of an ancient religious script. Toward the base, a shallow alcove housed a small open shaft, shielded by an ornate gold portcullis, its wrought bars fashioned into an inverted emblem. There was no evidence of a lock, perhaps the buildings purity and religious appearance was intimidating enough to ward away unwanted attention? Who would have ever imagined such an untainted and pristine building could reside concealed in the barrenness of this desert? Not many I’d presume. Perhaps that explained the absence of a lock? Regardless, it was undoubtedly optimistic for my famished and fatigued body. What wonders would the interior possess? There was only one way to find out, toward the portcullis I advanced.

As I drew ever closer, the sheer magnitude of its grandeur and radiance began to deter even my one track mind. What if the inhabitants were a cult, some hard-core sect of religious fanatics? Maybe their perception of a broken soul entering their harmonious existence would not be favoured? Perhaps they’d resent me for tainting their purity, or simply for encroaching their sacred terrain? Perhaps they’d kill me if they were fervent enough? Perhaps… I shook the negative thoughts from my distracted pessimistic mind. For all I knew, the inhabitants could be casual common everyday folk, so why burden myself with dark imaginings, when momentarily I could discover the secrets of this captivating building?

I reached out and ran my clammy fingers down the unblemished gold bars, just to reassure myself this wasn’t a mirage, or a heat invoked hallucination. It wasn’t. The cool refined quality tingled through my hand, sending shivers the length of my spine. Finally, salvation. I grasped the heavy shimmering gold portcullis unnervingly and began lifting it vertically, easing it into the recess directly above. I struggled arduously, the sun reminding me constantly of the tiring journey I’d already undertook. Then, just when I considered withdrawing and allowing the gate to fall, the weight eased with a dull grind, and then a whirring noise indicated that an antique mechanism had begun to aid my onslaught. Sure enough the portcullis was ascending into the flawless marble, revealing the dark shaft in all of its ominous brilliance. I guess it was time to venture into the foreboding unknown.

The shaft ran long, its menacing darkness consuming me. I ran my hand along the interior walls, guiding myself with small cautious steps as my eyes reluctantly began to adjust to the vastness of the shade. The contrast, when in comparison to the blinding sunlight was unimaginable. It was like stumbling out onto your landing in the middle of the night to use the bathroom and being blinded by that first arc of artificial lighting as soon as you open the door, only amplified tenfold… I paused momentarily, vainly hoping this would allow my eyes to identify some shapes deep in the dark passageway- it didn’t. The only sound I could hear was my rapidly racing heartbeat and my short shallow breaths, echoing faintly the entire length of the passageway. The ancient aroma of unsettled dust steadily choked me as I descended further into the building. 

Ahead, a dim light flickered fleetingly, before being swallowed effortlessly by the silently suffocating shadows. I increased my pace, shuffling progressively onward toward where the light had appeared, tracing the shallow contours of the shade masked walls with my inquisitive fingertips. What were these distinctive markings hidden from my sight, refraining into the heavy darkness? I could not decipher the archaic language, though undeniably the shapes were definite symbols, perhaps a form of biblical Hebrew or another form of sanctimonious script, similar to that lacing the exterior. Regardless it was nothing I could associate or assimilate with.

 Another thing that was growing increasingly difficult to concede was the sheer length of this single shaft. I glanced over my shoulder. The portcullis seemed an eternity away- a kind of picturesque analogy to the light at the end of the tunnel. Though a sixth sense told me I wasnearing the opposite end, with my shuffling footsteps losing their harsh reverb with every passing second. My eyes could now distinguish a defined doorway carved into the untarnished wall ahead. I approached with augmented vigilance, observant of every miniscule detail concerning this antique entrance.

Tracing the edge of the narrow shoulder height vent with sceptical fingertips, I noted any irregularity with anxious apprehension. There appeared to be an oiled disc shaped mechanism to the left, perhaps an ancient lock of sorts? It’s well maintained condition would imply that it had seen recent usage, the sheer quantity of oil suggesting a few days ago at the most. This was encouraging though equally unsettling. Who had used it recently? Were they sociable? Only one way to find out I guess…

I fumbled with the ancient contraption, attempting to fathom it’s method of functionality. It had two holes, placed at polar opposites, with a small insignia embossed in the centre of its extruded disc. I ran my now perspiring clammy hands over its unflawed surface, paying particular attention to the pinpoint perforations. Placing my forefinger and thumb cagily into the hollows, I twisted the disc counter clockwise to the clanking noise of the congruent cogs, the corresponding door reluctantly grinding open. My eyes refrained, my pupils contracting to cower from the harsh brilliance of a thousand chandeliers…

I emerged through the small opening into a vast chamber, with white marble and gold embellishments, elegant furnishings ubiquitously integrated. The walls sporting ornate décor stretched extensively toward a colossal effigy seemingly breaching the magnificently adorned ceiling to the south. A large banquet table spanning the entirety of the chamber lay set with familiar cutlery and crockery, spacing between seating and chattels apparently measured with alarmingly astronomical precision. I stood stupefied by the sheer flawlessness of my surroundings, simply staggered by the immaculate preservation of even the superficially insignificant effects. Whoever attended to the upkeep of this overwhelming superstructure was obviously someone of immeasurable personal standard and unsurpassed patience, someone who cared deeply for the presentation of this monumental abode.

My starved stomach snarled at me, snapping me out of my captivated trance. So where could this resident reside? He must require food, therefore there must be provisions of such context somewhere herein, or otherwise in the immediate vicinity. But where? I began the gruelling task of examining the room in greater detail. I began to stumble drained toward the gargantuan sculpture to the south, paying attention to the symbols sweeping majestically across the walls. There appeared to be aerial plans, ancient blueprints and etchings of antique artefacts depicted accurately, though they lacked resemblance or similarity to anything I‘d ever encountered in my incomprehensible past.

I continued forward, until something caught my eye, a colour so conflicting with its surroundings that it could never have been intentional. A spatter of crimson trailed off about twenty feet away, stopping as suddenly as it started. Indisputably blood. Whose? Was this human sacrifice? I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out. Consciously I drew in a sharp silent breath, and began to edge hesitantly towards the intriguing claret trail.

Silence echoed unnervingly, its prevalence decorating the airwaves. What was that idiom again? Silent as the grave; ironically relevant, as this magnificent structure was beginning to appear concerningly like a tomb, a mausoleum perhaps? My senses were now amplified; my awareness increased despite my state of health. I was nauseated, fatigued, but curiosity had her claws ingrained deep beneath my skin and stubbornly refused to release me… like the ink of a tattoo, those splinters of intrigue we find all too familiar, provoking our animalistic instincts of impulsive recklessness.

I should’ve just left right there and then, but we are ignorant as a species, as humans. We are driven by our fears, our insecurities; we allow our curiosity to guide us blindly into the unwavering darkness knowingly against our better judgement. We continually convince ourselves that something wrong is right, that something bad is good, that our flaws are the fault of somebody other than ourselves. We blame media; the films, the music, the computer games, even religion. We find scapegoats at every turn to justify our own atrocities and misjudgements. We ignorantly repeat our lies into the mirror of our subconscious until we believe them all wholeheartedly, until we convince ourselves that we are not to blame.

Our ignorance is our bliss… and ultimately our undoing.