The metallic scrape of the shovel on the dirt was my only company. The corpses of my parents, ravaged by illness, looked on as I buried them in the tightly packed soil in our enormous basement. The walls of the house, which I’d never left, were now mine.
Heaping a final shovelful of dirt onto the mound, I completed my grim task. I set the shovel down and collapsed to the ground under the weight of mortality; mom and dad hadn’t gotten around to teaching me how to grow the food we ate before they passed.
I looked over to the garden that bathed in the light of the lamps that sustained it. I had maybe a single meal’s worth of food at best. Although I hated to disobey my parents, I’d soon need to leave the house to find more food. Hunger gnawed at my stomach, so I hauled myself to my feet and shuffled over to the garden. Among the decorative plants were a tomato, some spinach, and a few leaves of getlam.
During my harvest, I noticed light reflecting off something on the ground. Curious, I grabbed it. It was a handle. The weight of the soil and plants made it difficult, but I managed to lift the handle to reveal a trap door and the tunnel it hid.
Hope caused my anxiety and hunger to ebb. The windows and doors to my home had been sealed off for as long as I can remember, but now I had an easy way out. I almost jumped down straight away but relented. I needed to prepare. Just in case.
On the upper floor of my house, I gathered my satchel and a flashlight. I looked at everything that I had grown to love: my books about the outside world, my pet plant Herbie, and my collection of music. I decided that I would bring Herbie, a CD, my CD player, and a book. I placed them all in the satchel alongside the food that I had picked earlier. I then made my way to the kitchen and filled a plastic bottle with water.
Feeling sufficiently prepared, I went back down to the basement where the tunnel swallowed me whole.
The crags in the walls of the tunnel cast jagged shadows as the beam of my flashlight shone over them. The further along I went, the more upright I was able to stand. Eventually, the tunnel gave way to a large room via a hole that was not a part of the room’s initial construction.
My surroundings were dilapidated. Grime and dust covered the walls. Various pieces of debris and garbage littered the floor. A heavy musty smell hung in the still air. The room was not very long but stretched horizontally into the darkness further than my flashlight’s beam could penetrate. In the center of the room was a section that dropped lower than the areas before and beyond it. I walked to the edge of the section I was on and looked down to see that the lower part had two long strips of metal that ran parallel to each other and stretched out in either direction. Not sure what I was seeing, I backed away and took the path leading left of the hole I emerged from.
As I walked, I glanced at remnants of posters too effaced to read and graffiti that seemed to be written in another language. I also passed a rusty knife that jutted from the wall.
Well into my walk, I began to hear noises in the distance. Sobbing. Clenched breaths. They came from a path perpendicular to the one I was walking on, hidden by the wall. Thinking that someone might be in trouble, I didn’t delay reaching the turn to investigate.
In the short hallway stood a dirty, shirtless man whose back was turned towards me.
“You okay?” I asked, walking over to touch his shoulder in a gesture of sympathy.
The man whirled around, eyes wide and severely bloodshot, face contorting into expressions of various emotions.
I stopped dead in my tracks. The man took a step toward me. As he did, his muscles began to swell and bulge to the point that his skin tore and the meat below was exposed. He let out a howl that rattled my eardrums. I backed out of the hallway and ran back the way I had just come.
With the man on my heels, I barreled down the path, the beam of my flashlight doing little to aid my vision since it shook wildly as I pumped my arms. I tripped over a piece of concrete and fell to the floor. Luckily, my pursuer tripped over me and tumbled forward, allowing me to scramble to my feet and back the way I just came.
A glint on the wall caught my eye. I sprinted up to it and wrenched the knife free just as the man neared me, his jaw unhinged to the point that it reached past his neck. He grabbed my arm and swung me into the wall. I dropped the flashlight. Stunned, I ragdolled as he shook me and screamed gibberish in a voice that sounded like that of two people. I slashed him with the knife, enraging him. He pulled back an arm that swelled even further with muscle, unknowingly telegraphing his attack. I ducked in the nick of time as his fist collided with the wall and cratered it. Dust and debris flew in all directions. Seizing an opening, I drove the knife into his heart and backed away in a panic.
Backlit by the flashlight through the dust, I could see the man’s malformed silhouette stagger side to side as he fumbled with the knife and then fell to the ground in a twitching, whimpering heap before going completely still.
I stood there for a few moments and then allowed myself to break down, tears streaming down my face. The horror of the whole situation overwhelmed me. Guilt over taking a life, no matter how wretched, swelled in my heart. I longed for my parents to console me. For my father to tell me that it was all “A-Okay”. For my mother to sit beside me and stroke my hair.
After my teeth stopped chattering and my breathing steadied, I collected the flashlight and deliberated whether to return home to starve or continue down the monster-infested tunnel.
As I waffled, the corpse of the man began to darken and disintegrate. Motes of matter floated upwards. The knife clattered to the floor. I took it as a sign. I picked up the knife and started once again down the tunnel.
I walked for a considerable amount of time before I began to hear wails of misery and snarls of rage behind me. I broke into a run.
After a short while, I saw a stairway that led upwards. I climbed the stairs and came to a rusted, warped door. Heaving with all my might, I threw it open. I was blinded by a bright light, one brighter than any I’d ever known. As my eyes adjusted, I emerged from the strange room and out into a world that looked nothing like the one described in the books I’d read.
An expanse of gently undulating, cracked stone stretched out beneath a black, starless sky that bore a sun whose rays seemed to give off no heat. Far in the distance, a massive island floated just above the horizon, illuminated by the lonely sun which hung above it. I couldn’t see buildings in any direction; the door I emerged from was built directly into a large boulder. Undaunted, I set off in the direction of the floating island.
I walked for what felt like hours before I saw my first tree. Its branches spread outwards and upwards, bare of leaves. Its bark was jet black as if scorched. I stopped to admire it for a moment, then continued walking.
“Murderer.”
I turned, searching for the source of the voice.
The tree was gone. Alarmed, I brandished the knife.
“Who’s there?” I yelled, my voice wavering.
“Don’t you recognize me?”
I whirled around to see my mother emerging from a cloud of black smoke, her blonde hair aloft on a spectral breeze. She held her arms out to her sides, welcoming me into a hug. She took small steps toward me. I stood my ground, knife at the ready.
“Baby,” she cooed, gently lowering my arm and wrapping me in an embrace. Although I knew that that wasn’t my mother, I couldn’t bring myself to harm something that looked like her.
“Why don’t we go back home? Your father is worried. You’re not well. You’ve been hallucinating,” she explained.
I was scared and confused to the point of paralysis. I closed my eyes. I felt her hands slowly move up my back.
I didn’t fight as they wrapped around my throat.
“Let mommy put you to sleep,” she whispered.
She began to squeeze. My breath was trapped in my lungs, rapidly going stale. Pressure built in my head to the point that I thought it would pop. A high-pitched ringing filled my ears. Panic set in, but I had already surrendered. My body began to convulse. As my eyelids fluttered, I caught a glimpse of the creature strangling me: its face was white and perfectly round with large eyes that bulged and bore no irises nor pupils. Suddenly liberated from my apprehension, I swung the knife upward, impaling the creature through its jaw. The creature dissipated in a cloud of black smoke. I fell to my knees, gulping down big lungfuls of air as cruel, disembodied laughter rang out around me.
It took several minutes before I regained the strength to stand and several more before I was composed enough to continue walking.
I walked for what felt like many miles. The lack of landmarks and the static position of the sun made it difficult to tell how much progress I was making or how much time was passing. The floating island never seemed to get closer. I savored my food sparingly- the tangy tomato, the mild spinach, the sweet, earthy getlam- but eventually exhausted my supply. My feet were sore, and my legs ached, but I never stopped to rest– not willingly– I passed out a few times when sleepiness or exhaustion got the better of me.
I eventually lost hope and a large portion of my sanity, walking purely on instinct. I barely noticed when a massive structure came into view on the horizon. As I got closer, my senses replenished themselves until I was fully lucid and only a short distance from the structure. A large steel door framed in a wall made of stone and sheets of metal beckoned me closer, but the sight of figures watching me from above made me weary. As soon as I saw them, they ducked out of sight behind the wall. I stood there for a few minutes before the door lurched open and several men and women in full body suits poured out. They pointed objects I had never seen before at me and demanded that I get on the ground. When I didn’t comply, one of the men pointed the object he held to the sky, and a deafening but small explosion issued forth. A warning. I got on the ground and the men searched me. They took my knife, hauled me to my feet, then ushered me through the door. We walked down a corridor and then emerged on the other side into a thriving community with gardens, buildings of various sizes, an assortment of people, and more. Even the ground was alive, featuring soil instead of the unforgiving stone of the wasteland.
Many looked on as I was led to a building in the center of the village. We stopped just shy of the entrance.
“Listen,” one of the men commanded.
“You’re going to meet our leader. She’ll decide if you get to stay. Don’t try anything foolish or you’re going to die. We won’t be far.”
With that, he held the door open for me and ordered me inside with a curt gesture.
I shambled through the door, down a hallway, and into a small, dark room with a round table. At the table sat a small woman with grey hair tied up in a large bun, her eyes hidden behind a pair of crimson shades.
“Please, have a seat,” she crooned, her voice full of honey.
I did as I was told.
We sat quietly for a few minutes. I could sense that my silence spoke to her.
“You must have had quite an ordeal,” she said.
I felt my face twist into an expression my younger, happier self never wore.
“Tell me, whose blood is that on your clothes?”
I looked down, only now realizing the rust-colored splotches that stained my hands, shirt, and pants.
“This crazy guy attacked me,” I croaked, voice wet with tears. “He wasn’t normal– he turned into a monster and tried to kill me, so I s-stabbed him.”
“And the marks on your neck?”
“Something that looked like my mom tried to strangle me,” I sobbed.
The woman allowed me to finish crying before she spoke again.
“I can see that you carry guilt in your heart, but you should not. Those creatures were not truly alive– not like you or me.”
“Th-they weren’t?”
“No. The man you stabbed was a Corpus– a body without a soul,” she explained. “The creature that strangled you was an Anima– a soul without a true body.”
I stared at her, dumbfounded.
“Neither ever knew life. Their kinds seek to extinguish the mortal flames of all they encounter, perhaps out of jealousy.”
I didn’t know how to respond, so another bout of silence occurred before she broke it once more.
“You have not killed anyone mortal, have you?”
I shook my head.
“Do you have a habit of stealing?” she pressed.
“No.”
“Are you willing to work?”
I nodded.
“Good. You have a place among us. Welcome to Nirvana.”
“Artham,” she called.
A man stepped out of the shadows behind her, startling me.
“Please show the boy to his new home. Pick a nice one for him.”
The man assented with a grunt.
He led me back outside, down a few dirt paths, and eventually to a pleasant cottage with a thatched roof near a wall on the outskirts of the village.
“She’s all yours,” he said, clapping me on the back before ambling away.
“Thank you,” I called after him.
He replied with a gesture over his shoulder that said, “No problem.”
I cast a glance in the direction of the floating island before entering the cottage.
I found my way to the bedroom and began to unpack. My CD player was broken, the disc was cracked, and, worst of all, Herbie’s pot was smashed. He was wilting. Dismayed, I set my things on the dresser by the door. Too tired to do anything else, I undressed and crawled into bed.
I lay awake listening to the sounds of the villagers conversing and laughing with one another before a loud, inhuman roar sounded in the distance, silencing them.
Sleep took me shortly afterward.
My slumber, albeit restful, came with a vivid dream. I saw an array of colors streak across a white plane as if painted by invisible brushes. They swirled, then coalesced into three humanoid shapes. The two on either end desperately tugged at the one in the middle who eventually tore in half, flowers sprouting and blooming where one would expect to see gore.
I awoke to the sound of knocking at the front door. I got out of bed, dressed, and went to greet my visitor. It was Artham.
“Boss wants to see you,” he grumbled.
I followed him along the paths to the central building. I made my way to the room with the table where the old woman sat next to a girl who rested her head against her palm, eyes cast downward.
“Welcome back,” the old woman said, gesturing for me to sit.
I sat.
“I do not believe that I know your name,” the woman chuckled.
“It’s Terra,” I replied.
The woman’s smile vanished while the girl’s face lit up.
“Well,” the woman began, the honey in her voice replaced with tepid milk, “I have called you here to explain to you your duties and to give to you your tools.”
I listened as she described the farm work and maintenance I’d be doing and who I should talk to. I was sent home with a heavy duffel bag. My duties were to begin after I fell asleep and woke up again. I was nearing my cottage when I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was the girl from the room.
“I just wanted to tell you that you’ve got a pretty cool name,” she gushed. “We should hang out sometime.”
I agreed and watched as she merrily walked off in the opposite direction.
As time went by, we grew up and into one another. We spent our free time together. She often regaled me with stories of the creatures of the world, great adventurers, and her misadventures. She also informed me about the floating island, which, to my surprise, was called Terra Incognita. She explained that she believed it was a place where wishes were granted, while the old woman, her grandmother, feared that it was the key to the destruction of the world. I learned that her name was Maria and that she was named after her grandmother, Marie. We shared a running joke of imitating Marie’s stilted speech. She comforted me whenever I grieved my parents. Her brown eyes widened with wonder whenever I told her of the world from my books. She was my best friend.
On a day where deafening gibberish, wails of misery, and black smoke surrounded the walls, a crowd amassed in the center of the village. As I approached, I recognized Artham, Marie, and Maria among the rest. When they noticed me, their faces became pictures of consternation, anger, and excitement respectively. Maria jogged over to meet me. Taking my hand, she led me toward the crowd. At the center of the gathering, lain on the ground, was a small elephant.
“It fell from the sky,” Maria whispered, awestruck.
One of the elephant’s eyes met mine. I took an impulsive step toward it, hand outstretched, when Marie startled me with a wordless scream.
“Don’t touch it! We’re disposing of it! We don’t need your help!” she hollered, spittle flying from her mouth as she pointed to three men who stood nearby clutching ropes that terminated in metal hooks. The men, however, seemed reluctant to harm or even touch the animal.
“Do what feels right,” Maria whispered.
Driven again by impulse, I placed a hand on the elephant. I felt it exhale a final breath before it was gone in a spray of water. A sense of weightlessness eased through my bones. Before I knew it, I was ten feet off the ground. Terra Incognita loomed in the distance, now not quite so unreachable. I was aloft on a breeze that carried me in its direction when an excruciating pain manifested in my shoulder. My flight was halted. I turned to see Marie on the other end of a rope, teeth bared like a ferocious beast.
Maria ran up to her and tried to wrestle the rope from her hands, screaming at her to let me go as Artham clutched his head in shock. Marie responded by pulling a weapon from her cloak and firing it into Maria’s head, killing her. I was stupefied.
“Artham! Help me—”
She was silenced by Artham, who used a similar weapon to kill her before taking his own life.
Numb, I flew through the dark sky towards the floating island. As it got closer, my vision began to blur. By the time I set foot on it, all I saw was white. My senses evaporated. They were replaced by a feeling of oneness with an unquestionable presence. Then, a sense of knowing.
I knew that no wishes would be granted.
I knew that Maria was at peace.
I knew that the world would not be destroyed.
I knew that I had not yet begun to live.
Then, I knew darkness.
Suddenly, my senses returned along with an immense sense of grief. I felt myself emerge from darkness. I wailed. I felt myself swathed in soft materials. I felt myself wrapped in a loving embrace. The memories of where I came from and who I was dulled as I grew to love my new family and our home in the place described in my books. But I never forgot. As I grow, learn, laugh, and especially when I cry- I remember. It helps me to not take this marvelous world full of wonder for granted.