I was alive in a city of fire. The city was lost, enveloped by dark, towering flames that rose from the earth. I stood here and watched it take place. The street was, for a moment, normal. I stood here in the middle, blocking a lane of traffic; amidst the angrily passing cars, people in suits, throwing the familiar strange and hateful glances at me, walking to work, under the cloudless sky, the sun, under these buildings of concrete, stone and steel. The earth then moved. Its plates shifted and the ground beneath my feet began to rise. The people around me began to scream and run away from the scene. I felt it expand, there were long patches of concrete that began to separate, the darkness of tunnels and the smell of sewers below. I looked toward the people running, the street had cracked, its fissures followed those who fled, I saw the cracks overwhelm and surround them. It splintered off and re-connected in the center, few feet before me. It ached from some unknown tension and force, the concrete broke apart and then went back together, almost as if it were driven by breath, a living entity. The darkness beneath the breathing stone grew red. Pressure gained, steam begun to seethe through. The ground shook heavily, the people all around me fell to their knees but I kept my stance. I looked above and saw the sky turn black. Thunder struck. It was deafening, but I could hear the people scream with fear. The tremors and steam had reached a fever pitch.
The screams grew louder into almost shrieks of pain. I saw the steam; the burning air had melted their feet to the ground. They were trapped; I looked quickly down to my feet. A blast of steam before me and yet, they remained unscathed…and then another blast…The street had exploded, shattered stone blasted into the sky. The largest hole in the ground opened and revealed the core of the earth.
Fire spilled out onto the street, it covered the crowds of frantic people all around me, it passed over them like rushing water. A stray flame had struck my skin, and yet, I felt no pain. My clothes, my suit of white remained untouched. The others around me did not share my fortune. It
had swallowed them whole, others who tried to escape it, could not outrun the flames. It followed them, it moved as if it were alive, breathing, like the streets that it shattered like glass to make it through to the outside world. It covered them, burned them until nothing was left and pulled their remains back into the pits that had collected into the pitch darkness in the center. The cracks in the earth soon stretched out, followed the path of streets that lead away from me, and the fires burned through them, pulling in everything within its path…until they were out of my sight. It must have covered the entire city. I began to follow the flames.
I walked for what felt like hours. Every street looked the same. Open holes into hell, human beings burning alive, screaming. The buildings had cracked and crumbled. The flames had cracked windows and entered. It had burned them from the inside out, and they shattered and fell to the ground before me. Pieces of the rubble and glass had cut me. I had not bled. The stone and cement walls were lost to the fire. Those who were still alive inside the fire, looked at me in the midst of the agony, they reached out what was left of their hands, pleading for help. I could not face them. I turned away, from their screams, from their eyes. They were watching as
I walked away from them. The screaming did not stop. It echoed in my mind, I felt the eyes upon me, their voices seemed inches away. My suit of white shined on between the suffering. The fires had begun to connect. From the place where I stood, following the miles I had walked. At last, the fires linked together, the holes had filled with the lava that covered and carried the remains of these damned and became a river of blood and flame.
I walked along as the cries grew louder as the shells of their bodies floated by. I looked to the black sky. Thunder slammed the dark emptiness above me. My eyes followed the river, until I reached the center of the city, the downtown towers.
The tower was massive. It was all that remained of the city. I turned around and saw the burning wasteland. The river of death had run through the landscape, collecting into a pool here, beneath the tower, the altar that it had become. It had become hell. This is meant to be punishment, their punishment. Why had I been spared this pain and suffering? What had I done to be placed among the devastation, but somehow allowed to escape their fate? The flames gathered at the base. The noise of the people, the screams of damned began to build in volume as the fire climbed up the stone giant, toward the black skies. I began to feel different, the fire overcame the tower. I saw the people within the river, their eyes and their hands, reaching towards me, peering inside me. I closed my eyes. They were instilled inside my mind. I then began to see things, terrible things surrounding those inside this river.
I saw their sins…their mistakes…their every judgment they had passed onto those weaker than they. I saw the businessman, walking down the street as he rushes past a homeless man on the curb. He was there, in the river, burning next to the man that he refused to help. I watched the mother too concerned with the night life to take care of her children, she lay there in the fire with her own children. They lie there and suffer with her neglect. Each time I looked past another dying man or woman, I looked into their eyes and saw their fear, their cowardice. I began to hate them. They had done so little so save themselves or those around them. I felt no
pity for them anymore. I enjoyed being in this suit, walking upon fire, being spared the spears of Hell.
I enjoyed it more and more as I realized that this was somehow my reward. I saw their children in these fires. I smiled at them as they burned. Everything in this world they gained, tainted and then turned away, for this they would dwell in this hell. It can only be theirs and theirs alone… this is not my hell. I could see every sordid scenario with each of them, each
burning face had a story to tell. Young men and women, corrupted by fate; the choices of their creators, they will pay for all they’ve done. It is in their destiny to be punished, and this justified my hatred so much, I could not help but laugh at them. They chose this fate and they will pay for it. All of them.
The tower was quaking under the pressure, the pull of the flames; it was the beckon and call of Hell. Its majestic gray stone architecture began to fall away, revealing the black steel girders that made up its skeleton. The steel would never stand the fire; the bars bent and burned dark red. The remnants of the tower began to sway back and forth over the wasteland and I. The bars broke in half and the tower finally fell to the ground, with epic crashes and deafening booms, the city had finally been claimed. Hell had made its final signature here, I surveyed the surroundings, nothing had been left, it was all but darkness above fire, and I felt good. There was no remorse, no regret, and no fear of what may come. This was just, and I was glad they were all in Hell for what they had done.
The wasteland was endless, as I walked on from the melting ruins of the tower. I walked the streets through the old neighborhoods, the places that I walked through as a child. This was where I found my life. I spent my days of childhood in the village, away from the city. There were days where my parents would take me to the city to experience culture; experience and education were sheltered by the strict morality of the older generation. My family. I came to this city young to escape them.
When my parents could not bring themselves to leave this place, I lived a life on the streets without them. The guidance, the control of other people they could not offer, I found it in the streets which I walk on now. These streets now destroyed these grounds that gave structure to adolescence without rules and boundaries. I found myself educated by passing faces, all of them that I remember, giving a small child a piece of wisdom before disappearing into the grinding machinery of city progress and cutthroat business. I had walked past the main roads of the city and into the park. This place, where I first learned of pain; a scraped knee and my father’s comfort kept me alive. His words were always meant to settle anxiety; they didn’t settle anything except doubt inside his own mind. He helped me back up from off the ground, he said to me:
“No wounds are made without a reason…”
My first memories in this park, running through the swings, laughing at the sun, so many childish things that I had loved were now reduced to ash and black steel. I had not truly looked at myself as the city burned. The crowds of people that rushed the streets were wearing rags, clothes torn by time not by fire. I looked down awaiting the vision of torn clothes and limbs covered with dirt. I saw myself for the first time, a white suit, clean and perfect. Through the ruins of the park, I followed a path to the street where I was born. The twisted steel had made a path for me. I took it. The houses were rubble and ash. The people in the street, burning and dying before me. I saw the men, the women and children of my childhood, aged now; torn by time and their avarice, they are now tortured with fire while I look on wrapped in this suit. I could not save them, why was I to remain unscathed? The answer dawned upon me as I walked away from their withering bodies, that I chose to save myself over them. I am here because I am alive and they are not, I am here because I chose myself over all else. I couldn’t save them, I didn’t want to save them.
They were already dead, the moment they chose to run from their punishment. They knew the choices they made, the sins committed on this earth; to neglect, to take for granted. I had seen them my entire life. They deserved the fire…
A sharp cry scorched my ears, it shook what remained of the ground and I felt my spine tremble. I tried to keep away from it. Somehow, I was drawn to the sound; horrible screams emanating from some dark place. This was different than the screams of the others, I could feel it. I followed it, more and more the noise grew louder, as if the scream was coming from two inches away, I could not find it. The pain was searing, I stopped at this old woman rolling in the streets. I walked toward the woman, knelt down to look at her. She was naked, clothes either lost in the fire or permanently embedded into her skin. The smoke that seemed to flow off her shoulders hit my senses. Her chest covered in black, the shawl that she wore was burned into her. Her screams turned to whimpers as I approached her, I placed one hand on her back, and the whimpers stopped. Her body rolled over to reveal her face; burned, with no hair, two thick black holes where her eyes may have resided. She opened her mouth; a tongue fell out, black and burned beyond use, her teeth cracked and brittle, falling out at the first moments of speaking.
She opened her mouth;
“Bless me father, for I have sinned against man”
She spoke as she took my hands, caressing them, looking to me for some kind of comfort. I could not provide any words; this woman had to deserve this, didn’t she? I could not see her punishment. She had no feelings of regret, no desire to be spared. She felt pure to me. Why was she subject to this? The entire city was dying. I had never felt this purity in any of the others. Their greed, their selfish, thoughtless nature, did not reside in this cursed, old woman.
My thoughts were cut short by her pleading words again;
“Please father, bless me and wash away these wounds”
She placed her head into my hands, the blood from the holes in her eyes flowed into my hands.
“I am sorry, but I am not a holy man, what can I do for you?”
She began to cry, and she rose off the ground. Her brittle legs gained some kind of strength and she stumbled away from me crying, she threw her hands into the air, and the cries became laughter. I looked at her, and rose from my feet. She turned towards me and laughed at me, she pointed and screamed;
“You did this, didn’t you? Don’t lie to me…I know who you are…you are a devil…you are Satan.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You have destroyed us! You have spared yourself the wrath of God.”
She came closer to me, pointing her finger, accusingly.
“You have turned away from your own sins and brought this upon us…”
She came face to face with me, touching my suit, which I had begun to loathe. This woman was burned alive, and here I stand in perfect white, what had I done? What did I deserve?
“You put this punishment upon the world around you, to protect yourself…you coward.”
“I am not a coward”
“Liar!”
I felt a skeletal hand slap my face, I felt no pain. I looked at her with anger, I wanted to strike her down. Some ideal of respect had held me back. Why?
“Do you think that you are better than all of us, than I? Do you feel that you deserve no punishment? Who are you? Who do you think you are?”
I struggled to find my name. What is my name? My name…
“……My name is…Paavo.”
Her hand grabbed at my throat, her face becoming closer to mine, I couldn’t breathe, and she began to breathe in my air. I could feel the air leaving me, I began to suffocate. I couldn’t breathe; I did not want to die, in front of this woman, here, in this place. Did it matter? If all others were dead and gone, what meaning did my life, being spared these fires, take on?
“Get away from me!!!”
I threw her hand off of my throat and pushed her to the ground. She laughed again, becoming louder and louder until my ears began ringing. The first pain I have felt, blood flowed from my ears, tears from my eyes and I screamed for her to stop. Her body began to rise off of the ground. Floating there, she began to speak again;
“This is all it is, my son…All you receive for choosing yourself over all. All you receive for ignoring your sins, your mistakes, your choices…”
She flew towards me with incredible speed, grabbing my neck again. I could not remove her hand. Her grip was built from a new found strength. I was lost under her control. She began to rise into the sky, taking her with me. We reached a point high over the city, underneath the black and endless sky.
“Look at them!!! These are the prisoners of hope, faith and belief! Cast away all your notions of right and wrong, behold the consequence for your life. Suffering and death was inevitable. It was inescapable, this human nature.”
I saw the bodies, the dying, all of them, all sinners and no saints, I was no different than them. We rose higher into the darkness of the sky. The fires became nothing but red circles underneath the black ocean that we burned past. The city below me left my sight. I looked into the sky; our rising bodies began to increase in speed. Wind shredded past us, burning my eyes, I could not see, tears began to pour down into my hands, trying to cover the blinding pain. My body felt the crushing weight of space, pushing down upon it. I couldn’t breath, my chest constricted, I shook uncontrollably. I screamed to stop, but I was helpless under the woman’s grasp.
Faster and faster we climbed the darkness, she spoke again;
“Is this what you wanted? A purgatory? A place of apathy where fools reside? Of course, why else would you condemn your own kind…When you take your freedom as paradise, and rape its simple truth, you had a choice, and you chose to save yourself.”
“What are you?” words were all I could manage out of my struggling breath.
Her body began to change before me, the bones burned and seething grew plain white skin deep from within itself. The skin covered her body whole, the new shell of white began to glow;
“I can show you things, my son. I will show you price and consequence. I will show you fate and destiny.”
Black hair grew from her head, her arms and legs. The teeth that replaced the open, bleeding mouth were sparkling white. The new eyes that were birthed from the darkness within the two empty spaces of her head, deep and green. This woman let go of my throat, and I floated in this space. The sky of black shattered open, dark clouds stormed around us, revealing white light from above. The woman before me was not the woman I had found begging on the grounds of fire and sin. She was reformed, reborn, now adorned with robes as white and perfect as the suit I found myself in. Her black hair and green eyes struck me with shocking familiarity. It was as though I had known this woman my entire life, in thoughts and dreams and other places.
“….Mother? ….I…..Mother, what’s going on? What is happening to me?”
She smiled at me, it comforted me instantly. I felt my defiance crumble and contract into a ball that I put into my pocket, like a novelty or something left and forgotten on the ground for a child to take and love for its simplicity.
“My child, you must never forget what you are…this whole time; you have taken your gifts for granted. Even now, those people under you, are paying their own price, as well as yours…I am no different from you or them…”
She came down from her elevated state, her hand graced my cheek, and I felt safe. The white light had now overtaken the darkness around us. I found myself between the white clouds above and the black abyss below, dark red flames that reached and pushed to touch me, dark flames that burned and purged those people to this moment, still they screamed. Mother grabbed my hand and spoke softly;
“Paavo, never forget this moment, as you will learn the cost of choice.”
Tears filled my eyes. I looked up to the light above us. I saw a man, walking towards my mother and I. White robes matching those of my mother, his blonde hair and brown eyes scorched my fears and doubts as to why this was happening. I was frozen again…
“Father?”
“My son.”
His voice was deep and booming.
“You have been spared the fire, but you will not be spared judgment”.
My mother’s unbreakable grip returned and I was unable to pull away from her. Her hands returned to my throat as she held me down. My father elevating above us, his white robes fly open to reveal a gleaming black axe.
“Be quiet, my child.” She whispered into my ears.
My father took the axe into his hands. I floated there, between the dark and the light; helpless, dying and facing the punishment of my actions. My suit of white was false, I should have known. The black below and the white above.
Heaven and hell.
My father lifted the axe, memories and images flashed through my mind, too quick to cherish, too short to remember. He raised the axe as if it was his newborn son. Before he died, before he knew that his son was damned as well as himself. The axe from heaven fell to my neck…
Then…no pain…only darkness again…
Paavo Harker awoke to an empty bed and a dark apartment. His heart ached as a grim reminder that he was still alive.
shadowart 