Pearls of Wisdom
Andreas sat alone in the dank room of the house with only the door to bar him from the darkness outside and how dark it was, it rained down upon the earth in a torrential downpour. There was nothing to do but wait with the chill and the moist cold enveloping his body. He had been staring at the candle for a long time, the only light he had left, now only a wax stub, watching its flickering flame dance upon the wick. Smoke was rising from the flame, mushrooming as it hit the ceiling.
“Go away! Leave this place, leave me alone”, he screamed and pointed towards the door. His eyes were darting about wildly checking to make sure the barricades were holding. It suddenly became deathly silent, for he could hear nothing. This must be what it feels like to be non-existent, to not partake of the life that we're offered. To have that taken away is brutal torment. It felt as though Andreas’ insides were being ripped from his stomach leaving a void of pain inside him that pulsated.
Outside the window it moved, he could hear footsteps rustling along the outskirts of the west wing of the room, crushing the fallen leaves underfoot, catching glances through the cracks as it passed the barricaded windows. He forced himself not to look; he didn’t want to know what was pacing around him outside, but he knew.
He looked wildly about the small room he was in. The deafening silence confounded him for a moment, no longer could he hear the wind or the rain or the neighing of the horse outside strapped to the rail. He could hear his heartbeat accelerate its pace, as the silence plucked at his nerves like a stringed instrument playing an appalling melody.
He heard the unspeakable song it was singing, sickening to the very depths of his soul; it was playing with him as a child plays with his toys. It made him gag and vomit ran down his chin, he tasted the sourness of the acid that was rising from his stomach. Vile and disgusting, he wiped it from his chin. The chanting melody became louder, he cupped his ears to block out the songs, he felt his ears become wet and he dared not look at his hands, he knew it was trying to drain him of his life blood. He could hear it outside moving from north to south almost as if there was a pattern to its movements. He thought about what he could do, stay here in this room or try to run, could he outrun it? He did not know. He could try but where would he go. He was alone out here; there was no one for miles.
Then silence again, nothing but a heartbeat, his heartbeat, beating violently in his chest. There was no running from this thing, it followed him all the way from his home town of Bucharest, but how, across the water, through the numerous countries that he had passed through and finally here it had found him. Memories of his family at home preparing dinner flooded his memories, his daughter preparing the table and his wife at the oven putting the finishing touches on the meal.............and his mind came back here to this moment, the silence, the calm before the storm, the walls started to shake, barricades blew away as if they were paper-mache.
‘This is where it would happen’, he guessed.
He lay upon the ground, rolled into a ball waiting for what would happen. It lasted only a few seconds, worse was the anticipation of how it would happen. A few seconds later he saw his own legs lying there on the floor, his fingers were trying to clutch something that was holding him, but there was nothing there, as he looked down there was a large pool of wet, dark blood and then he feel into eternal sleep.
Nuggets of Dirt
Cory Ian Shafer