Dissapearing Steps

Some things disappear as you move forward. Like childhood. It's inevitable, but once you begin to grow, childhood is gone. Swinging nonchalantly on a swing in the backyard, watching the sunset, eating Popsicles in the still warm heat of Summer, it's all gone as new factors in your life begin to appear. Like college, or work, or marriage.

Tonight I'm climbing a long set of stairs. The stairs are made of dull gray worn out stones, and I am climbing up to a tower made up of the same material. The tower, the stairs, everything is in the middle of big ocean, black because of the dark sky above. Clouds continually hammer rain onto my shoulders, stinging my eyes and making it all the more harder to breathe. Thunder booms every now and then, often times right beside me, frightening me out of my wits.

Each time I take a step, the step behind me cracks and falls down to the ocean with a large splash that always makes me jump. My whole body shivering with the rain, I am forced to keep on moving, and I can not linger on the past steps because they are now gone. Nor can I remain too long on the same step, for it grows weak after a period of time and it begins to shift and crack, forcing me to take another agonizing step.

With each step I take, I look up at the tower I will someday be in. It seems so far. Miles away. And my legs are so tired. I don't want to walk anymore. I look down at the ledge where the step behind me used to be. All I see is vast ocean water, churning with rain and waves that carry everything away. Quick thoughts of jumping into the ocean pass through my head. If I jumped in, the waves would peacefully carry me off and I wouldn't have to worry about ever taking another step.

I am about to jump, my feet so close to the ledge I can almost feel the tranquility of the ocean running through my veins. Then, I stare upwards at the tower. It gleams with such magnificence. It rises tall above the ocean, pronouncing its power, its might. If I jump, I will never know what is up in that tower. I will never feel the success of being up there and staring out of that window. That window which lofts high above everything else in the world. Few people have ever looked out of that window, and if I jump into the ocean, I never will.

I turn back around to where the next step is and lift my foot, my entire body tiring, telling me to stop, but my will to continue takes over. I take another step...

Paintings

I'm in a hall, the walls painted an intense shade of maroon, the floors made up of white glossy tiles. I look around at the walls. They are outlined with paintings. Paintings among paintings, and all bordered in the exact same golden frame. Each painting shows a person, some young, some middle-aged, and some, very old. The painting directly beside me shows a young girl, about seven years old, with golden braided hair and dark gray eyes. She seems to stare at me intently, with a dark gaze far older than matches her age. I've never met her before, but she looks familiar all the same.

I look to the painting beside me. A man in an army uniform. I analyze the picture carefully, the scruffy black hair upon his head, the set jaw, yet gentle eyes. Yes, yes, I've definitely seen that man before. But where? The answer gradually makes its way into my memory. A book. That man was a character somewhere in some book I'd read ages ago.

I continue to make my way through the hall, silently, curiously. I soon begin to realize that all these paintings, all these people, are people I've seen before, or people I've thought about, or read about, or even made up in my mind. All these people, I've seen somewhere in my life, whether I've had a close relationship with them, or whether they were beggars on the street who I'd given loose change to. None of them are smiling or have any emotions. They all just look at me intently, as if waiting for me to do something.

I look ahead of me, only to see that the hall goes on for a very long time. It doesn't seem to end, but I continue to walk. There is nothing else to do. I marvel at all the paintings. Most, I remember. Many, I do not. Suddenly, I feel a strange urge to see a painting, a specific painting. I can not remember who I want to see, but my heart yearns to see the face. My pace quickens as I hastily search for the painting. I look at each face, each senseless gaze, only to be let down time and time again.

As I walk further and further into the hall, I finally see an end. It seems to be so far away, but the end is there, and squinting my eyes carefully, I see a painting at the very end of the hall, and my heart leaps with joy. I can't see the face or the color or any of the features, but somehow I know that is the painting I have been longing to see. All energy possible in my body jumps to my feet and I begin to run; run faster than I've ever run before, and in that hall, I feel invulnerable. I can run faster than a car, an airplane, a rocket ship! Suddenly, I stop running and I begin to fly. The ceiling in the hall disappears completely and I'm flying past stars and planets and comets and moons. I'm soaring and the world is revolving around me. ME! I'm flying right past the universe!

I stop immediately, realizing with hesitation, that I've flown right past the picture itself. Desperation flooding my soul, I turn back, looking for the hall, the paintings, everything. But I'm so far away, and nothing is where it used to be. I'm so far away. I can't fly anymore. I'm falling, falling into nothingness.

Tonight

Tonight, I see a man, a lone man, walking through the streets of an abandoned, yet modern looking city. He is covered from head to toe, and I can not see his face or distinguish his persona. But he is there, walking so slowly, so slyly, that not a sound can be heard from his footsteps. It's as though he is slowly floating towards me, illuminated every now and then by the equally spaced street lamps bordering the ever stretching sidewalk.

All of a sudden, he stops walking. Everything stops, the silence now even louder than before. Questions crowd my head, my memory, my very being, and an urge to know answers, an urge to find out what this all is, and what it could mean, bubbles gradually inside of me. But I find out all too quickly, that I am paralyzed. My mouth can not move and neither can my feet. In a flash, faster than light itself, the man who was just a second ago, a mile or two away, is now so close that I can feel his gentle yet icy breath upon my face. It sends chills up my spine. I want to move, I want to run, I want to scream, but the silence is simply so powerful, like an invisible impenetrable wall.

Slowly, carefully, the man raises his hand, brings two fingers together, and snaps. At first, the snap is inaudible, but it begins pulsing louder and louder with each passing second until the pulse is so loud that my ear drums are bursting and pressure is building up inside of my head. The sound is so loud that the invisible wall around me pops like a balloon, and I bring my hands up to cup my ears, hoping the sound will go away. It only grows louder. I run around the hollow streets, looking for the man who is no longer there. Pounding at the walls, at the ground, desperation to escape the ever increasing volume of the pulse which rings right through my body and shakes the buildings like an earthquake only amplifies. I try to scream, but I can't tell if I am just opening my mouth, or if I am actually screaming. Suddenly, I shut my eyes and fall to my knees, pounding at the sidewalk, until everything is gone and the world is quiet.

I open my eyes, and at first, the brightness stings and I can see nothing, but as sight slowly develops, I realize that I am on a merry-go-round. I am sitting on a light blue pony with a black mane and a golden saddle, and my feet swing down with the elevation. The merry-go-round is turning, turning, with no music, just silence and a soft breeze mockingly caressing my loose hair. I remember this from somewhere. I've been here before. A long long time ago, perhaps in a past life. I look up, expecting to see a soft baby blue sky sprinkled with clouds that lofted over with a melancholy drag, but when I look up, I see nothing but a sea of white. Simply white, as white as paper, as nothing. This was not how I remembered it. This was not it, it couldn't be. I look to my side. I see the long blades of grass. I remember them. But far off into the distance, I see something else I don't quite remember. And it's coming closer. A dark figure. A man. Covered from head to toe. And as I stare closer, I see he is lifting his hand. Bringing his fingers together. He snaps. I am gone...