You All Stare But You'll Never See

Shadows

There’s a place in Hell with green grass pastures and thin winding paths laden with neat-spread gravel pieces. Trodden by the many on their way to a safe haven away from the torment of eternal suffering. There’s a blue sky filled with random droplets of white fluffy marshmallow clouds. It’s bordered by rocky hills with glimpses of hope on the tops. To the north leads a path into eternal damnation; the depths of Hell as prophesised by those in power to see such a horrible ecliptical paradise. To the south is a huge tower; spikes gracing its top, lacking the usual human head like usual buildings found within the depths of Hell. It is the biggest structure around, the spikes hidden by the pure white clouds. What’s visible to the eye is not quite so horrific. This tower is a tower home to a powerful and wise man. He is the Harbinger of this plain. His tower is pure black; blacker than any black; blacker than the shadows in every single nightmare you’ve ever had.  But it had a malignant twist; it shined as a beacon for the damned; it was known as a temple. A place for acolytes to pray; a therapy almost. People would sit inside here in small groups of ten or twenty, inside the huge circular hall which became even more sadistic as you went inside. This plain of Hell had no night, no darkness; it was swallowed by this tower. The blue of the sky reflected off of it, and even the clouds and the sea in the near distance behind the tower, making it seem homely, making it all the more beautiful for the acolytes come to absolve themselves from sin, for a chance to return to the splendorous empirical Zion. 

It was another warm day,in this place, I walked along the winding rocky path with a group of around 10 or 20 others. We were all dressed in the same beige robes; like we were monks on holiday. We knew where we were going - the tower. We’d heard about it somewhere, none of us were sure where. None of us knew. None of us cared. We just knew it was an amazing place. Anything to recuperate from that eternal darkness and nightmarish suffering. Complacent from nightmares, this place was as if we were on the borders of our haven; it was as if we had already reached it. As if we were there. The tower was so big, it seemed like the gateway up to heaven. It disappeared in the beautiful marshmallows in the sky. The clouds formed shapes - berries, swords, bugs, food, temples, men, stars. Everything. Somewhere at the top of the clouds was a dark tinge, almost as if they were turning to rain clouds slowly. Somewhere in the back of my mind said something else. I think it was in all of our minds. We said nothing of it, and chose to ignore it. 

“This place is… It’s beautiful.” I heard one of us say, but I didn’t care, none of us did; the sheer effervescent beauty of the place had us captivated. All negativity and positivity had eluded us; we were content, and that was all. Through our content nature, the scariness of the blackened tower didn’t affect us in the slightest. We saw it as an umbra of beauty. A shadowed collection of memories; the bad seemed good, and the good seemed great. I thought about being with her, I thought about the love of my life: Amalea Moretti. I thought about one of the greatest days of my life - our first day together. It seems weird, reclusent, but one of my best memories is not one single memory - it’s just being with her. It’s seeing her smile. It’s feeling the soft inclination of her hand on my side. Her lips on mine. Her presence by my side. 

We got closer to the tower. It’s black beauty casted no shadow. Fear was completely gone; we had nothing but calm and content emotion. Alexithymia. Ineffible feelings. How I feel when I’m with her.

We entered slowly, as we drew up, the Harbinger erected from his huge home. “Welcome one, welcome all; to my home. The Tower.” We bowed our heads as we passed him and went inside. He was wearing blue robes with a gold lining around them. A thick fur over his shoulders, like a dead animal hanging on him. I noticed nothing of it. He appeared to shine. But there was an evil in his eyes; he saw through us, when he looked at us, I felt cold, we all did. We didn’t think anything of it, and carried on walking. There was no music playing. That was one of the first things I recollected. (Not like now. Now, whilst writing this, I’m listening to a calm ode by C418. I always write stuff when listening to this artist. He’s the man who made all of the music for the popular game ‘Minecraft’. His music is so peaceful.) I remember walking through and looking around. The content feeling had disappeared. Thoughts replaced with curiosity. Dread slightly. I thought about the inside of the tower. The thin protruding spikes running up the walls. The charred blackness of the walls. The thin candlelight running across the first layer of the wall. There were no candles, only a thin line around the circumference providing a pseudo-candlelight glow. In the center were a circle of seats. Chairs with backs and no backs at all. Something that was only possible in a world like this. Still I did not bear any inclination to run, to escape, to get out of this sordid paradise.

I sat down with the rest as the Harbinger explained the true reason why we’re here, but none of us suspected anything. We went along with it. As if we were under his spell. He told us that this is a place where nightmares come to life. This place is where if we think about, speak of, or diverge anything nightmarish and personal, then it will come to existence in the shadows of this room. It was then that we noticed that the outside of the tower had no shadow, and instead it was all inside. All of the shadow was around us. None in the entrance or the ornate circle we were sat in. But everywhere else. I was sat next to the Harbinger, and someone on the opposite side suddenly erupted into tears, and in the shadow a yellow pair of eyes came to light. It was huge, it moved like an agile young child, but with the size and strength of a rampaging elephant. A demon in man’s clothing. Its spikes protruding from its body and its nostrils similar to that of mythical dragon kind. It stared at all of us before letting out a bloodthirsty screech and began tearing the room apart. The Harbinger did nothing. I tried to calm him down, to send him out of the tower, but he cried. He did nothing, just cried. He looked at me and kept telling me he was sorry. 

It was then that I realised that the sordid nature of the tower is to absorb the nightmares of those unlucky enough to be given euphoria in Hell.