Earl’s diner was to my right, its familiar red sign dark and damp above the entrance. Just a few blocks off of town square, the streets should have been overflowing with people; kids running into the carousel with excitement, a mother scolding her child while coming out of a department store, that one pontiac that was always in the McDonald’s drive-through around dinner time… None were around.
The eastern clouds had started to give way to darker shades of blue with the setting day; the black of the storm coming off the mountains rushing to meet them. Underneath and in between lay the town roads; of a steely blue that hid the light and strained the eyes to look at; a shadowless, ambient dark that was like being deep underneath the ocean.
I turned away from that smothering sight to face the diner again. This had all started out with me wanting to grab a bite, hadn’t it? So, I’d figured it would be funny enough if I did just that; come into good old Earl’s and have myself a good old dinner like nothing was going on at all. I pushed open the door and walked inside.
Much like the outside, the diner was all gloom, with only silence to fill all the empty space. My eyes darted from table to table, searching for a meal ready for the taking. I figured it would have been somewhat hard to find a waiter to order myself one. Tucked away into a corner, hidden partially behind a red booth, I saw what looked like some kind of a pie, glowing under the dim gray spotlight filtering through the windows.
I approached, met halfway by the sweet smell of apple and cinnamon, the bitter and sharp notes of coffee piercing through the gentle aroma. I came to sit in the booth and found the most delicious-looking plate of apple pie just waiting there alongside a cup of hot black coffee, both seemingly as fresh as can be. I took one most flavourful bite out of the pie when I found myself in a memory.
I was once again a child, maybe eleven or maybe twelve, sitting in that same booth with my parents and sister one night. There was a winter cold that drifted in through the seams between the windows, with a soft whistling sound that was drowned by the ambient chatter and warmth of conversation. Glistening under an overhead lamp was that same apple pie, with the wonderful scent of cinnamon that wafted off of it.
My parents were bickering over some triviality as my sister was drinking a milkshake, without a care in the world, her nose lost in the whipped cream; a most ordinary sight of a family meal, I suppose. All the diner was mirth and glow with the anticipation of Christmas, assorted decorations already lining the counters and walls with cheery phrases and imagery. I was looking around, taking in all the warmth and laughter in the air when my eyes set upon a young man a few booths away.
His face was down on the table, turned away and off into the night, seeming to be sleeping as the others in the booth were entertained by what looked like a mighty joyful conversation. They took an interest in their friend some moments later; posing for selfies and drawing shapes on his forehead as he lay, unmoving in his slumber, oblivious like some comedic relief comic character.
Yet, there was darkness on his face, cast in from the night outside like a ray of light. All around him, his friends were laughing and having a good time yet he lay there, still like a stone. He seemed to be apart, cold and unmoving like the winter outside, untouched by the warmth of the diner. All his friends seemed oblivious, laughing and patting him on the shoulder, trading jokes and silly looks as he lay as a shadow. I realized then that he was dead. No one seemed to notice, thinking, all, that he was asleep. No one had noticed him die.
I turned around, too fast, shaken by that sudden realization, looking to see if anyone else was seeing it. No one was. Everyone was huddled in their booths, laughing and gulping down tasty food, none the wiser as that man lay dead. I looked around some more when another sight caught my eye. A cat was perched on a window sill in a far off corner of the diner, looking off outside into the freshly fallen snow, glowing dimly with moonlight. It, too, seemed unnoticed in its presence, dark like the night and still, blending into the background, hidden by the conversations and decorations. No one tried to pet him as he lay quietly, looking off outside with soft, lonely eyes.
At the opposite end of the diner, right outside a window was a magpie, double with its reflection upon the glass. It was staring into the building, the soft orange light of the inside shining in its eyes as it shivered softly in the cold. It seemed to consider its own reflection, still for a moment, half clad in the cold dark and half warmed with orange. It took off the next, flying through the glow of a streetlamp before disappearing into the desolate winter.
All around, there were moments of solitude and cold, hiding in plain sight, noticed by no one; all the cold and darkness in the world, woven throughout, as the light seemed to not even care. I remembered breaking from my reverie at the sound of shouting to my right; the young man’s friends were shaking him by the shoulders, trying to wake him to no avail. The dead man shook with the shoves of his friends, his eyes serenely shut, a calmness on his face.
The diner had gone dark by the time I was shaken out of that memory by the sound of tapping, coming from somewhere in the streets. There was a hollow bang to it that I followed out onto the sidewalk. A single lamp-post was glowing some 50 yards away, leading towards town square, glowing softly through the rain.
The sound grew louder, echoing in the narrow streets; a hard thud and then a ringing like that of a bell. I was turning the corner onto town square when I saw it; first a pair of boots and then a pair of pants that swayed above my head. The boots were hitting the lamp-post with rhythmic thuds, the ringing following after. thud dunn thud dunn.
A man was hung from the street-light, swaying in the wind, casting a swinging shadow in the orange glow. Behind him, lining the square was the rest of the townsfolk. Hundreds of them, hung from trees and street-lights, hung down from balcony railings, swinging under the rain. They all cast dancing shadows upon the orange glow of the square, swaying and swaying, some twisting with the ropes around their necks. All was silence but the rain and that rhythmic thud. All was rain as I collapsed to the ground. I could see that man swaying above me, covering the light like an eclipse as darkness filled my vision.
The muffled sound of joyful music was playing gently in my head as I slowly came to my senses. I felt hints of dancing colors through my closed eyelids as an ocean breeze blew across my face, waking me with a stinging cold. The music grew clearer as I woke up; trumpets and flowing accordions, ringing with many drums and bells, playing joyful carnival music. I opened my eyes, bright orange and yellow lights shining from below, coming from tents that seemed to boom with energy and carousels, bobbing up and down with playful spin. Looking about, I found that I was in a ferris wheel, sitting in a carriage that stood high in the sky, slowly revolving atop the amusement park, softly glowing with colorful LEDs that strobed with a melody.
Axel, the nightingale, was by my side, perched atop the seat to my left, looking out into the ocean with eyes that glowed with the lights of the carnival. The wind blew by her soft cloak as she stood unwavering in the cold breeze, dignified and calm as she turned her head to face my way. There was compassion in her eyes; innocent like a child and strong like a mother’s love as she fluttered silently to land on my shoulder, looking me in the eyes.
Softly, without even noticing at first, I started to cry. The sound of the man’s boots striking against the street-light rung in my head. In front of him I had seen Mrs. Lawrie, my second grade teacher, hung atop a tall oak that stood in the middle of the square. I remembered how she had cried when another kid had brought her flowers on her birthday all those years back. She had been such a kind and sweet old lady. To her left, there had been Mr. Lewis from down the street, hanging from the flag-post in the courtyard of the town-hall. Mr. Anderson the mayor and Mrs. Rodriguez the librarian were also there, everyone was there.
I had recognized a familiar red polo shirt off in the distance, hung way up high from the clock tower. The body had become a twisted sort of clock itself, swinging down from the minute hand; a regular oscillation like that of a metronome, left to right and right to left, once per second. That was my father. Next to him had been my mother; hanging by her scarf, from the hour hand this time; twisting back and forth, knocking against the tower and turning to face the square over and over again.
All these images flashed in my head, as the carriage swinging softly in the wind as had the townsfolk in that square. The circus music from below kept playing in the air like some cruel joke; the carousels spinning, plastic horses racing around and around with all the mirth they could muster, without a care in the world.
My eyes were stinging and sore from the crying, my face down in my hands, rocking back and forth as my entire body shook with a deep, searing pain from within. I let out a painful wail, crying into the wind and rain that carried it away without before collapsing into my seat. My eyes were closed and my chest rose and fell sharply as if shaken by hiccups, my cries now silent, with only warm tears streaming down my face.
That’s when I felt gentle feathers brush against my cheek, soft and wiping away the tears that streaked it. Axel was now perched on my shoulder, staring into me as I slowly opened my eyes. She rubbed her tiny face into my cheek once again, warm and soft like a bed on a winter night. I felt the pain inside me subside slowly as she chirped a melodious song for a moment, taking to the air and spinning around before landing back in the carriage to my side. Slowly straightening in my seat, I wiped the tears out of my eyes, taking a deep breath before facing Axel once again.
She was once again staring into the distance with soft eyes that shone with the light when she spoke in a calm voice: “They aren’t dead, you know”. Maybe some time ago, that statement would have shocked me. Yet, after crying my eyes out just moments before, and at the end of such a day, I’d had enough of being rattled. I only felt a deep calmness within as I stared out into the sea far below, the waves stirring and clashing in the dark.
I asked simply; “Then, what are they?” The bird drew in a long breath, looking similarly tired before answering: “They were taken, by a spirit of the forest”. She seemed to shudder slightly at those last words. “It dwells in a part of the forest where we don’t dare go and the few who do, never come back. It’s been there for as long as I’ve known the forest, and my parents before me and my grandparent’s before them. It’s never ventured out of its kingdom until…”, she paused for a moment, turning to face me: “…until now”.
The silence hung in the air for a moment before she spoke again: “It’s taken them by the sea; atop the old lighthouse where it waits right now”. She paused once more as a sadness worked its way into her expression: “Your people are not the only ones it has taken. My three chicks, my three little hatchlings were gone this afternoon; their tiny bodies cold and unmoving; their souls snatched away”.
Her feathers rustled with the wind for a moment; her tiny, beady eyes looking off somberly, split between a darkness from the sea and a light from the circus below. The poor thing couldn’t cry as I had; her tiny body had to carry within itself all the sadness in the world; a sorrow in her stare that seemed to weigh a thousand stars. “I don’t know why it spared you, or me for that matter, young Matt. But it’s now up to us to fix this”.
I couldn’t help but sneer at the end there: “Fix this? How can we fix this? How could anyone fix this? It has snatched their god damn souls! You said it your fucking self!” I burst into a short fit of laughter with frustration, seemingly all my calm gone in an instant. I had seen those things in the forest. I had seen their eyes, spinning and spinning. I had seen the town square, hundreds dangling in the wind. Who was this bird to tell me to fix anything? Tears, once again, flashed in my eyes, now with a sudden rage that had me punching the carriage door to my side.
However, this didn’t seem to break Axel’s composure as she replied with that same soothing calm in her voice: “The spirit is a trickster, a dark and cruel one, but a trickster nonetheless. If we are here talking now, it is because it allows it and is playing a game with us”. I replied, the frustration still in my words: “So, what do you suggest young Axel? We go up to the lighthouse and ask for a refund? Make it an offer it can’t refuse?”.
She let the questions hang for a few moments, allowing the silence to calm me once again before speaking: “It’s either that or we make a run for it. Let it do whatever it pleases with them while running with our tails between our legs”.
I was strongly considering this option when she spoke up again: “It can be reasoned with”. She paused for a few seconds, an unfocused look in her eyes as she seemed to dive into her memories: “There is a tale that old owls used to tell. They used to speak of a boy, from high above the trees where none but other birds could hear their chatter; of a young boy who had come face to face with the spirit and had lived to tell the tale”.
Something stirred deep inside me as she told the story; like all those years back in the forest; something that felt alien, inhuman. Axel had turned to face me as she paused, an expression on her face that I couldn’t place, seeming to look through my bones and peer into me. “I don’t know what we can do, I truly don’t, but we have to do something. There is no running from this, Matt”. Her eyes seemed to gauge my reaction. She seemed to know something I didn’t, giving me quick glances before turning away to face the ocean.
I looked off into the waters, the storm winds blowing the smell of salt from below the cliffs. The seas stirred, waters, dark like ink, crashing upon the sands with a roar that seemed to shake the air. Far off in the distance, the lighthouse rose tall into the stormy skies, waves crashing upon the ocean rock upon which it stood.
The entire ocean was a stirring shadow yet the lighthouse stood apart; a deeper shade of black that traced out a shape with contrast. The beacon at its top was an abyss; it seemed to cast rays of darkness like it once had light. It seemed to pull everything into itself. That old familiar feeling churned in my stomach, the black hole of that lighthouse tugging at my very core. It felt like I didn’t have a choice as I looked off into that darkness; all roads led to that lighthouse; it was the end of everything. I turned to look back at Alex: “Alright, I’ll go”. There was a fear in her eyes as she looked into mine and saw the reflection of that darkness.
The gales blew against my face, a deafening roar that carried the rain and ocean alike. Alex was tucked within my hood, brushing against my face as I walked up the stony path that led to the lighthouse. There was a deep rumbling in the air, coming from the ocean, as I stepped on the stone platform from which the lighthouse rose.
I followed its curving wall, looking for a door when the ground seemed to shake again with that rumbling. I spun back around to face the ocean: The waves crashed upon the rocks, blowing with them the cool water. I looked off into the horizon; nothing visible in the haze of the stormy night. Yet that rumbling kept rolling with the waves; muffled yet resounding; blaring deeply like a clarion call over a battlefield. I poked my head over the railing that lined the edge of the platform; it felt like I could almost see something in the distance. Then, lightning flashed.
It was a chitinous mass in the sky. Rising from below the horizon and filling the stormy skies, its shadow was nightfall and its steps were earthquakes. A thousand legs, many-jointed and the size of sequoias held it high in the air; it looked like it had been there, looming in the sky for all of history, only invisible to the eye. I only saw it for one moment as the flash of lightning was cast upon its eye. It twinkled like the moon in the silvery light.
I turned back to find a door at the bottom of the lighthouse, open behind me. Something seemed to move in silence, hidden by my own shadow. This was it then. I slowly walked up to the door, turning around one final time before going in. Axel was perched on the railing, staring at me with the ocean churning behind her. The cloud cover seemed to part for a moment, the heavy gales calming almost in an instant.
The full moon was behind the bird, shining silver though her coat of feathers. She chirped one soft melody, piercing through the sudden silence with a song; it was like that night in the forest, all those years ago; it was like coming home. And then, the moment passed. I turned away from the light as the gales blew once more. I walked through the door into silence.
No sound of the storm echoed within the stone tower. I followed the stairs, up and up and up as everything else seemed to become insignificant. I remembered nothing and thought of nothing as I paced up those stairs; my only past was the echo of my steps.
There was a numbness in my stomach, like all those years ago in the forest; cold but comforting like sleep. It was all black but I could see perfectly; the darkness was cast like rays of light. A minute had passed or maybe a decade, I had no sense of time as the shadows seemed to blow past me like wind.Then I saw it.
It had no face and it had no body as it spoke to me. Its voice came from all around or maybe from inside my own head, in a language I had never heard but could understand perfectly. It spoke, not with words, for it had no mouth, but with thoughts themselves that flowed like an ocean, jumping from one onto another, with endless chaos, with so many ideas I couldn’t even imagine words for.
It didn’t seem to think straight; and I mean that quite literally; there was no deduction or reasoning in its mind. It simply seemed to know everything; every bit of knowledge, every thought there ever had been or would be; leading randomly to another, over and over and over again, through every infinite permutation.
There was only one constant in the infinite halls of its mind, repeating endlessly, echoing on and on and on: the bird, the bird, the bird, the bird… It hungered for it with a ferocity my mind couldn’t even come close to understanding; it was an entire universe of desire, tearing itself apart and collapsing in on itself before reappearing, a million million times every second, every millisecond, nanosecond…
The bird for your soul… Its speech was like a hurricane, every syllable thunderous and crushingly loud inside my head. The bird for your soul… It repeated inside my head for decades it seemed, collapsing me to the ground, my vision going dark, a numbness spreading from deep inside.
The very next moment, I was staggering out of the lighthouse door, falling onto the stone platform at its base. I forced myself onto my feet, my body aching with every cell like it had lived a thousand lifetimes; an ocean of pain that raged like the storm all around me. Through it all; I could feel movement inside my jacket. There were three little hatchlings, lying against my chest, shrieking with what little force they had within their tiny bodies, crying out for their mother.
The gales blew into my eyes, blinding me with cold sea-water as I could only make out a vague out-line of Axel, shivering against the cold on the railing. I shouted: “Axel! Axel! I figured it out!” my voice was blown away by the winds and muffled by the rain yet it seemed as though she had heard me. Her tiny head quickly spun in my direction as my shoes slipped on a puddle and I came tumbling down onto the concrete floor.
She flew in my direction, her wings fluttering against the winds that should have carried away such a small bird. She struggled against the winds, a power in her tiny body that would defy hurricanes. It seemed as though she could hear her chicks crying out for her as she struggled, yet another wave of strength working its way into her wings.
She was maybe a foot away, forcing her way through the wind and rain when the spirit echoed within my head: the bird or your soul… the bird or your soul… I saw Axel’s face, gleaming under a light that seemed to have no source, inches from my face, shining with all the hope and strength the world had ever seen.
Moonlight flashed in her eyes, carrying a silver melody like it had all those years ago. The waves crashed against the ocean rocks and the gales shook the air; The cries of her chicks blared against my ears as the spirit’s voice echoed from deep within. I held out my hand and she landed on it. She got to look me in the eyes for one moment; she was like an angel, flying through the darkness. With one swift motion, I snapped her neck.
I collapsed to the ground as her body fell beside mine; double with its reflection against a puddle on the ground. She seemed to consider herself in the water as a raindrop fell next to her eye; it was like a single tear, rolling softly down her face, leaving her tiny eye as did the light of her body. I felt the hatchlings wiggle their way out of my jacket; they were carried into the waves in an instant, blown away by the gale before they even came to their mother.
I felt that old familiar numbness give way to a sudden searing inside my stomach, a piercing sensation that split my body in agony; that old familiar sting, from all those years ago. I saw a single speck of darkness rise from my body; taking with it all the pain, flying off into the lighthouse. The bird for your soul… The bird for your soul… I had carried the darkness within me all that time; allowed the spirit into our town. I lay there, warm tears rolling down my cheeks as the storm battered me on every side. It felt like a soft lullaby as nothing seemed to matter.
The storm had cleared by the time I woke up. There was a gentle sun, rising up from the still waters, casting the world in warm orange as soft winds carried the ocean’s smell onto shore. The lighthouse was gone, the tall rocks it had stood bare against the yellow sands. The town had vanished; the twisting path up the cliffs led only to a highway, cutting across the pines, through the mountains and twisting away into the cities. Sitting at the edge of the cliffs, I watched the sun rise and rise, bathing the world in warmth.
So vanished my town one late summer, leaving only me to carry its memory.