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Solitude

Rahil Shah

By Rahil ShahPublished 2 years ago 18 min read
1
Solitude
Photo by Karsten Würth (➡️ @karsten.wuerth) on Unsplash

1)

The vibrations under my fingers stroked the ambient jolts as I slept to the sound of the insomniac thunders, amplified by the arguments amongst the clouds. The two-storey cabin shivered as a hot ray of lightning hit a few trees in the forest behind the house.

I rubbed my sweaty palms across my face and got up to sit erect on my bed. I screened the tiny room and saw intact the small desk that stood cunningly on the damaged wooden floor. My gaze directed itself through the room and toward the window. The moonlight was clearly visible through a rare patch of sky in the sheer dominance of clouds. It was the perfect atmosphere for a murder I thought. I hadn’t killed anyone, but it was always something I wanted to do.

Not many people lived in this part of the island, very few. I knew of two houses that had survived through all the horrible weather: The Madson family had one, and mine. No one lived in the house except me. Both my parents had died in the same hour in the same room, the room right above mine. I hadn’t gotten anyone to move the bodies. I let them be. I went there from time to time to see their bodies decompose, I enjoyed how the worms felt nothing as they grazed comfortably on my parents.

Emmilia Madson was my age, both of us 20. We spent a lot of time together and knew each other well. She was the only one who understood my deepest feelings, she was the only one who didn’t look at me like I was weird - not that it mattered what people thought of me.

I thought I liked Emmilia, and that's why I wanted to, so desperately, kill her.

I got off my bed and slowly made my way out of the room. At the far end of the hall, a small torch blazed, without which not one ray of light would disperse through the damp air in the house. I dragged myself to the staircase and took off on the carpeted flight to find myself outside the room above mine. I turned around and looked at the black door opposite the room with the corpses. I detested entering that room, for I would always find myself looking at the pillow that rested on the chair in the middle of the room. I pushed open the door and saw the chair on the circular carpet, which grew from under the chair, like a blood splatter finding its gradient. The pillow was on it. The black pillow.

My fists clenched with pain as an ominous feeling tugged at my hair and made me weak. I yelled in pain, as I fell to my knees and slammed the door shut. I sobbed under my own breath steadily and felt my consciousness speak to me. Flashes of black ran through a grey gradient, flickering my motion. It stung every time a black image drew itself in my mind.

I opened my eyes, they were blurry. I knew they were red when I saw my reflection in the pool of sweat that had formed under me.

I walked down the hall on that floor and grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the bar that stood by a massive emerald green mirror. I looked at myself and stared at the gory image. I knew then that I feared myself. I threw the bottle of whiskey at the mirror and yelled helplessly. Putting my back against the bar, I slipped to the floor. I looked at my feet as they helplessly swayed in place. It annoyed me, to the extent I pulled out a broken piece of glass and stabbed myself in the thigh. I did not yell this time; just laughed. Laughed in pain, till I could feel the little happiness float out of my body.

“How did it happen?” Emmilia asked the next day; her face did not represent any form of compassion. Upon receiving no response from me, Emmilia slowly moved her hand on my thigh. It stung, but it felt good; I didn’t stop her. The afternoon drizzle slowly worked down on us as we sat in the forest, facing the waterfall. The 15 feet drop created a stunning piece of art as the mist broke into two directions hitting rocks at different levels. The wind played with the mist beckoning it toward each other, making them merge finally a foot over the top of the waterfall. Through the translucent mist you could see the trees at the other side, giving more meaning and life to the floating effect.

On the top of the waterfall, parallel to the river was a fence, and on the other side of the fence was the north side of the island. Much better land, at a slightly higher altitude with slightly better weather and no floods. Emmilia’s father had cheated a few families on that side and had been banished, along with the rest of his family. He made money by stitching carpets and coats from animal skin and selling them over to the north side. I simply never fit in with the people, I could enter that side, but I had never been since the death of my parents.

I put my head on Emmilia’s lap as I looked into her eyes. I often did that and didn’t speak for hours. But we communicated, through the touch of our fingers, or from the movement of our eyes. It was a rare connection, and I’m glad I had it with her. “Tell me about that side,” she said, she always wanted to go to the north side. The only time she had seen it was at the time of her birth when the people of the north side allowed Mrs. Madson to deliver her child at a proper hospital. “They have a lot of pretty buildings, and roads connecting all of them,” I said, even though I knew I had said it before, Emmilia loved to listen to it. “There are a lot of people who meet every evening to socialise and party,” I continued, “And the best thing I think is that the people there are so nice, that almost everything is free.” I could see Emmilia smile as she thought of herself living there. She would have fit right in, and I knew it.

Later that evening I dropped her back to her house and continued walking, making sure she had no eyes on me. I walked to the end of the island and found myself at the southernmost beach. Very few people had been here in the history of the island because the tides grew and fell almost by 10 metres every few hours. I walked along the beach for a couple minutes toward the east side of the circular island and found myself to be exactly where I was supposed to be.

I stood outside the cave and looked at it with a cunning smile on my face as the heavy rain poured down on me.

Pushing my wet, black hair out of my face, I walked into the cave.

2)

The slimy ladder I found at the far end of the cavern shined under the light of my torch. The tide had started to rise, and the water was already at the level of my knees. The entire cave would soon be buried under the currents. From the top of the ladder I looked at the silver water that sparsely reflected the moon's beauty. The waves thudded at the end like a film rotating slowly on its axis. The sound was amplified by the dense square room which would have to be at least ten metres on each side. I pushed the latch on the top of the ceiling and pulled myself up making sure I shut the latch behind me and sealed it so no water would enter the room.

The interior of the room in which I stood was extremely well thought of and taken care of. The wooden walls gleamed with life and didn’t show one hint of being so close to the water. The confines of the tiny room had a yellow lamp that provided a warm aesthetic to the wooden breath. The floor was black and was carpeted in the centre by what felt like the skin of an animal. On top of the carpet was a dinner table, only for two. It was wooden again, with sharp edges that stood akimbo out off a rather smooth top.

I walked through the otherwise deserted room and sat on the table and looked across at the girl at the other end.

3)

“You know I’m not real,” She said, as she scratched her hair with one hand and looked down at the other. “Why do you still come here?”

I looked at her for a few minutes, I didn’t say anything. She had frizzy black hair that was pulled back into a ponytail. Her narrow shoulders slumped down a few inches and acted in sync with the dull look she wore on her face. Her white T-shirt had holes at every crease, her white hands looked like they had been soaked in milk for days. “You’re real in my imagination,” I said very slowly. A smile squeezed its way onto her face. She looked very pretty under the yellow lights of the room. “I’m going to kill someone in this room and you’re going to stand in that corner and watch,” I said- pointing at the corner to her right. To this she nodded. “I understand why you’re doing this, but you really don’t have to,” She said, finally looking into my eyes. “I don’t know why I’m doing this,” I replied, trying to avoid a conversation.

There was a silence for a few seconds, I heard a thud, which meant the cave had finally filled up with water and a wave had crashed into the bottom of the trapdoor.

“Who am I?” She asked me, trying to make me understand something I was missing.

“You’re the only person I love, and it's going to stay that way,” Trying to keep Emmilia off my mind. “I’m not real, she is,” She said making sure I knew that she had complete knowledge about what was happening with Emmilia.

I stood still looking into her eyes, waiting for the tide to recede before opening the trap door and descending into the water which was at waist height.

At approximately 7 in the morning, I sat still on what was the highest point on the south side, atop a massive rock. I knew I would have formed a beautiful silhouette under the moon for a camera that clicked from my left. All around me I could smell the waking forest, I could feel the fragrance of the yawns that left the animals’ auras. One deep breath spoke to the trees around me as they wished me good morning; the breeze tickling through their leaves.

The confidence of the forest felt like a betrayal to this world. Nothing deserved to be this happy.

4)

When I pushed the door open, I was reacquainted with the pain. It stung, like it always did when my eyes met it. I walked into the room this time. I touched the pillow. My whole body felt like a trickling line of burning oil coursed through it. I slowly lost my vision. I fell next to my chair, yelling in pain, I could barely breathe anymore; I didn’t let loose of the pillow.

Images found their way between the blanks in my eyes. I saw the corpse of my father grab my leg. I saw the corpse of my mother stab my father.

I still remember the summer before the first time my parents asked me to go to school. We were still up the north side, but I never met anyone. I was always stuffed up in my room. I spoke to my daunting grey walls every morning and slept to the shadows of the dancing trees falling from outside of the window. My parents never bothered getting me involved with other kids or other activities in general because I was ‘different.’

I hated who I was, I hated everything; the place, the people. This was until I woke up one day to Sarah sitting at the foot of my bed. “Don’t freak out,” She said, wearing her white shirt, full of holes. “You’re a nice kid.” “Who are you?” I was not surprised by the appearance of a girl I had never met before. “I’m Sarah,” She said. Her voice was beautiful. “Your mum said you needed someone to hang out with this summer.” “I don’t need anyone,” I said simply. “Yet here I am,” She said looking around my room.

I would have normally ignored anyone who entered my room and tried talking to me. But Sarah was different, everything about her felt perfect. The monotonous walls were now full of life, the trees danced to happy music in the sunlight. I did not know my unhappiness; everything was now perfect, and I needed nothing more. I had to finally leave for school one day. “Take this pillow Adam,” she said, handing me a black furry pillow. I felt a warm chill breathe through me as I touched it. “It’s something to help you remember me, after all you might never see me again.” “What do you mean I won’t see you again?” I asked, trying to keep my feelings under control.

“Nothing, I’m kidding,” She laughed as she pushed me out of the room. “See you in the evening.”

School was long, and tedious. The only thing I could think of was Sarah and how I couldn’t wait to get back home.

The bus dropped me outside my gate, and I beckoned all the energy in me to rush into my room.

She wasn’t there.

“Where is she!” I yelled at my mother, “Where is Sarah!”

“Sarah?” She sounded surprised, “Who’s Sarah baby?” She asked me with a smile on her face.

“Sarah!” I yelled, “my best friend who I spent all my summer with,” I continued.

“Honey, you don’t have a friend called Sarah,” She told me, starting to get a little worried.

“Told you he’s getting more retarded by the day,” My father told my mother.

“It’s all your fault,” I could hear my mother faintly in the distance as I ran up the stairs to my room.

I stood still, my eyes red, looking over my bed. At the pillow. It was still there. I yelled in pain. The pillow injected pain inside of me. I yelled so much, all night. No doctor could stop it. I yelled so much, all night. No one could do anything about it. I yelled so much, all night; my parents had to move out of the north side.

5)

Pain spoke my name as I woke up the next day, lying on my face; kissing the floor in my room. Emmilia was not around this time and I felt weak, I felt the feeling in my soul go numb, I saw my best version of myself walk out through the breath of living. I wish Emmilia were here, she would talk to me, calm me down and help my heart find the right place to be.

I felt guilty instantly.

A cold feeling washed itself through my fluids, it made my structure weak. Sarah spoke to me, still haunted me with her thoughts, through various methods of abnormal communication.

It couldn’t wait much longer, I had to kill Emmilia soon, and so I asked her to go out for a walk with me, that night itself, I told her I wanted to show her something.

6)

Under the cunning sky as we moved our bodies slowly over the sand, I looked Emmilia in the eyes; Her eyes spoke delicately, mimicking the warmth portrayed by a layer of natural fur. I looked around me as she rested her head on my chest, her skin ever so in place feeling the essence of my body, the sky was dull tonight; It looked like the optimism in the objectified image of life had been jerked out and thrashed into a billion pieces that hung loosely on the brink of reality.

If I were here alone, on the shore, looking into the morbid sky, interacting with the hollowness of the clouds, I wouldn't have wanted to exist. I would have wanted to walk into the open arms of death because of the negative effect this atmosphere would have had on my psychological system.

Such is the effect of love, when felt, it can slow down time, it can make unreliable systems okay to exist in, it can speak to you and treat you as its own.

“We should go before the tide begins to rise,” I said under my breath, slowly adjusting myself into a position that would force myself up.

“We can’t wait even a bit longer?” She asked in a delicate voice, as if it were beckoning all calls of love, I almost decided to wait a bit longer when I felt the water touch my toe.

“I'm afraid not,” I responded, “Besides I have to show you something.”

I got up, reached out my hand to her and pulled her up.

I took her to the cave.

I had only five minutes to leave before I wouldn’t be able to anymore, but those five minutes felt like multiple eternities.

I had her sit on the other side of the table and looked at her smile at the room I had created, she was engrossed by every small detail I had focused on.

“Why haven’t I seen this place before?” She asked me with a curious look on her face, not jealous, just curious.

“It was a place for myself,” I said, looking at her slowly get upset, “but now it’s a place for us,” I said making sure I didn’t upset her.

I grabbed my screwdriver and slowly dug a hole into the latch, perfectly carved, just small enough to fill the room up with water for long enough. I opened the latch and with no eye contact, I slipped out of the cave and locked it shut behind me. I jumped off the ladder, the water was above my ankles.

When I walked out of the cave, an ominous feeling passed through my body with feverish haste. I stood on the same spot, fixed to the ground, carrying the weight of the world on my two feet, I felt myself crumple inside of my own mind, a white marble wall against which I leaned, and slipped to the floor, holding myself and my tears in my hands. I felt the calls of anger beckon with intimacy and the cheers of depression dancing to my failure. It was passionate, but what had I done?

I sprinted back, and then I swam when I couldn’t sprint anymore, I knew I wouldn’t be able to exit, I knew I was going to die, there was no way I could block the hole fast enough or strongly enough to withstand the pressure it was soon to see.

I entered the room and sat across Emmilia.

“I love you,” I told her, it was a simple statement with so much meaning I felt the vibrations in my body as I shook to the sound of my own words.

“I love you too” She said a little surprised, “But why are we here?”

“Don’t say another word,” I said as the water was up to our chests.

It was a peculiar feeling; for perhaps the first time in my existence I felt a new part of my brain glow with emotions I had never had the chance to experience. I brought down my glances of respect toward every little thing there was. I felt the cool water against my skin, reminding me of every little smile to have been stamped across my lips. I saw the light in the room disperse as I had my head go in and out of the water, an illusion worth perhaps any amount of value. The lights made their way through the water, the room bending in different shapes and forms, almost as if it were travelling from space into the abstract concept of time. I knew I did not have many more opportunities to break the water and gasp for breath, and so I looked at Emillia. She did not seem to be comfortable, yet somehow she emitted calmness, enough to make me believe that she believed in me. She did not panic, or wail under the water as she surfaced for a new breath.

I was now under water. I was prepared to pass through that thin film that separated reality from whatever was beyond. I held on, for as long as I could, and then I took a breath. It was painful, my mind asked for oxygen and it choked instantly on receiving something else, it was very painful, my body imploding and exploding simultaneously. I vaguely also remembered feeling a shock, after which I lost my ability to think, I lost the ability to allow my consciousness to participate in reality.

7)

It was in my room, the room with the chair, the room with the pillow. My eyes opened. Sarah stood next to me, she let out her hand to me. Shaking, my left hand reached out to her. I felt the touch of her skin, for the first time. I felt the cool breath of warmth pass through my body.

“How?” I asked, wondering how I could finally touch her after all these years.

“Welcome home Adam,” She said.

Young Adult
1

About the Creator

Rahil Shah

Just my thoughts and I

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