Heart in the Hallows

There is the deadbeats and the dead, the living and the lost. Sorting people into those categories may seem like a waste of time, but that is where you and I differ. I am forever sorting people into categories; kind and crude, this and that, wrong and right, sane and insane...whatever seems to fit the cause. People fit the mold, and if they do not make the cut, they are either tossed in the trash, or made to break to fit in.

Sometimes, that can feel like the mission. People are made to be broken, and they fall. Brutality. The most brutal of cases makes your best friend seem like your worst enemy, or in some cases, family like foe.

Yet, darkness has no weight, and its smile is as empty as the air.

Watching it taunt me, prancing, I figured it had a purpose. If I left it long enough it would go away: But the moon dripped with a sinister side; A face – that was mine – determined, lips that curdled into a snarl. A prance, stomping. Darkness became my prison. Trapped inside, buried and burned. I prayed for the call of twilight, for the soft glow that awaited, for the new beginnings of the shadows.

Behind these walls, the city was alive. I took no part but gazed out as a stranger would gaze upon a new world. Who would confine me from my fate? Only me. my only hope, light. Sleep occurred; but my dreams were shattered and empty. The city’s call, commanding. The moments were eerie. The time - dead.

Then, I woke up.

I first remembered a white room, soundless and bright. A faint smell of disinfectant lingered in the air. The vibrations of the shuttles interrupting my sleepless night. I looked around from my bed; there were no visible doors or windows, and no sign of any life or movement. Not even a speck on the cold ground. The room acted as a cell. With four strong walls surrounding me, I was safe. Safe. I am safe from what? Myself? Am I trapped? Was I going to die here? There were all real questions, for a real situation and now a part of my story.

I stood to examine myself. My hands, acting on their own accord, gently cascade down my head, pausing on the concave cheeks that still prominently displayed themselves. Once full of warmth, yet now just a shadow of what used to be. I noticed I was robed in a white hospital gown, and the only colour present was the blue wristband on my right wrist. It clung to my arm tightly, as if it was making its presence known. How could I not notice it? The cool plastic with smooth edges, tailored to the curve of my wrist joint. It was not restraining, but lined with the very small letters that read, “SAFE.” I let out a sigh of relief. Amid the chaos, I could rely on one thing - my health. At least I hoped that is what the label meant.

I looked around at the blank canvas that I called my sanctuary, desperately searching for a door, a window, a hole - anything. All I could see were the plain white walls, with a white, metal bed against the far wall, and nothing else. I changed my focused back to my bed and slowly made my way back to it. There was no sense in trying to move mountains when there is no mountain range to be seen. I had to start small, think rationally and stay calm. I had no clue where I was, how long I've been in here, or how I found myself there in the first place. One would think that those would be some of the first questions that would traverse my mind, but no, the first question that came to me was simply, "why would anyone want to decorate with an abundance of white?"

Personally, I have nothing against the colour white. It's merely dull, and boring. It shows no visual interest. White, an inherently positive colour, is associated with purity, innocence, light, goodness, safety, brilliance, illumination, understanding, cleanliness, faith, beginnings, sterility, spirituality, possibility, humility, sincerity, protection, softness, and perfection. The colour white can represent a successful beginning. In heraldry, white depicts faith and purity. As the opposite of black, movies, books, print media, and television typically depict the good guy in white and the bad guy in black. The colour of snow, white is often used to represent coolness and simplicity. White’s association with cleanliness and sterility is often seen in hospitals, medical centers, and laboratories to communicate safety. This knowledge, meant two things. Firstly, that I may know where I am, and secondly, taking a course on colour theory proved to "come in clutch" for once in my seemingly doomed life.

At least I was safe.

To the natural eye, white is a bright and brilliant colour that can cause headaches. In cases of extremely bright light, the color white can even be blinding. Either I could stay here in this cell and have a large chance of losing my physical sight, or I could make my great escape.

Suddenly, a low grumbling echoed through the room, and at first, I thought it was all in my head. The grumble became steady, occurring more often than before. The echoes pierced my ears like daggers, causing my head to throb.

"Hello?'' I shouted, as my muscles became tense with anticipation of a response. I stood in total silence, waiting for the inevitable reply. There was nothing, only the whispers in my head to keep me company. I sat on the edge of the bed, waiting – my curiosity rising. I did not know what I was waiting for, but I just waited. Getting the best of me, curiosity drew me toward the wall. It was just a simple wall. Whitewashed, like that of my life.

My eyes flicked towards the wall near my bed, spotting a small crack in the stone. I staggered closer towards the crack, but with each step I was taking, it grew larger and larger, transforming into a hole. I bent down towards the hole, watching the foundations crumble before my eyes. It was dark, a definite contrast to the bright white room behind me.

The dark tunnel could be an escape, or at least have answers to what had happened. If I had stayed, what would have been the results? I would still be alone, without supplies to last me, without company to hold my sanity. I had to move. It was time.

Whilst deep in thought, something emerged from the shadows. An olive mass blockaded my view from the only source of light in the tunnel. I squinted my eyes, attempting to form the image of what it could be in my mind. It looked like an arm, but not an arm like mine. It was deformed, almost as if a tentacle of a squid. The tentacle stretched from one wall of rock to the other, reaching around my front.

It slithered to the other side - my side. Wrapping around my wrist, it twisted my arm to shake me back into focus. The appendage dragged me through the opening in the wall, into the abyss that was its home.

Convulsing, I lost control. The tentacle slid around my cold skin, burning the layer from underneath it. The pain seared over my pale flesh, and the echoes of my screams filled the dark tunnel. The bells of hope that once rang, were now hanging silent in the air. The grumble transitioned into a roar, pulsing like a healthy heart. I knew the source of the noise. It was my captor. He held me tightly, and I could not pull away. What was left of the wall started to tremble, the roar shaking it to pieces. Finally, the wall collapsed, allowing the clouds of dust to fill the air. It shrouded my view, and I had to wait until it settled so I could see who or what was behind the wall. Terror struck me. The streams of panic, quick like the Thames.

At first glance, a human silhouette appeared, but after the dust fully cleared, I saw that it was no ordinary being. There were large pieces of decayed flesh dangling from the fragile skeleton before me. A ghostly familiarity crept over me as a silver heart-shaped locket tangled in the rot, hung off its neck.

Why was it so familiar?

The skull was partially visible through the left side of the face, but my eyes only remained there for a moment. I caught sight of an orange band of tarnished metal that cut into the flesh of its wrist, a band engraved with one word:

“UNSAFE.”

I whimpered helplessly, like a scared hound and retreated to the opposite wall as it released its grip. I saw the figure before me. It was wearing the same gown as I was, though it was blackened and bloodstained. As the figure approached, the features became alive, just like the heart locked that twitched on its neck.

It was a man. He wore a mask over his face, concealing his identity. I looked through the mask to the eyes, noting a familiar ring around the pupils. I realized this was no ordinary man.

This was my father, and that locket belonged to me.