The Stairway Down

It was a familiar, unfamiliar place. It was a hazy twilight; a realm of transcendence he felt he had been to, perhaps once in a dream or before he had been born. Yet, he was a total stranger here. There wasn’t much memory left of anything… not where he came from, or where he was going. He didn’t know where his body ended and where his external world began, or if they had all melted into one. He couldn’t tell what was sound or light, or feel the temperature of his skin. He didn’t even remember his name.

The yelling, the screams though, he did remember - so chilling, desperate, anguished. He felt the rattles of their torment; echoes of woe, slowly surrounding him. The energy was subtle at first, but came with such a feeling of impending darkness, hitting him softly like waves as the tide came out. All his senses disappeared, except for a sense of lingering dread.

Was it drugs? Was it alcohol? He somewhat recalled being on drugs before. He search the depths of his mind and somehow, knew there were nights he would blackout or leave his usual state of consciousness. It was to a degree, with intention though… That intention being, to get fucked up, again and again.

He remembered what was a state of egoless floating from back then, in whatever he had drank or smoked or dosed himself with in the past. Those nights he was lost in the void, but not alone. It was typically numbing, although sometimes, unusually enlightening. He remembered there was often music and entertainment, and the excitement of other young people surrounding him, egging him on to join them in their shared, impaired and intoxicated place.

This place definitely was NOT the same.

He knew he wasn’t here for escape, or fun or soft enlightenment. Had he overdosed? Had he been poisoned?! Was someone out to get him, kill him maybe?!? This was far from a dreamy visit imbibing with the god Dionysus, and the cheerful decompression of a night of revelry with his peers. He worried for his absent body, as his spirit scanned the ether around him. This definitely wasn’t from booze or blunts, or even the pills he was used to taking.

This was a darkness. This was eerie. This was a lingering sense that he would atone for his sins. Maybe this was Hell. Maybe this was the underworld, and Hades himself had his hands wrapped around his neck. He suddenly felt cold, and like there was no oxygen around him, trapped in the void of this space. He felt death breathing in his ear, and the screams slowly began to intensify around him.

Suddenly, the screams took on a single feminine voice. They were those of a woman in indescribable pain, and she began to beat inside his head, louder and louder and louder. He couldn’t see her, but what had began softly in the distance was now getting closer and closer, beating harder and harder. The screams became shrieking, and groaning, like some kind of enraged forest banshee.

“Ahhhahhhh whyyyyaaaahh whyyyyy!?!?! Ahhhhh whyyyyy!?!?” It was the only discernible language among the gasps and shrieks, almost as if she was drowning and on fire at the same time. Surely this was some poor lost soul being tortured, or maybe a demon assigned to torture him. As her wails intensified, his senses began to pick up once again. He could smell... Burning flesh. He could smell the scent of iron, which he knew had to be blood.

Although pitched black, the celestial hurricane began to whirl around him. No longer soft waves, but the violent storm of a supernatural sea. The shrieks took on the energy of dark winds and a violent ocean encompassing him. “Nooooooo!!!” she ached in a broken yet monstrous voice. “Howwww could youuuu?!! How could youuu?!?! Howww coulddd yoooouu!?!?” The voice became even more impossibly loud and otherworldly. It took on the sounds of other voices… men, women, children, and spirits indiscernible. There was crying… So much crying. The children’s voices were wailing in a kind of pain he had never once experienced before in his waking life. He thought he might shatter into a million pieces and cease to exist from the weight of this pain. If he weren’t already dead, he certainly was about to die.

Suddenly, everything stopped.

The winds were still. The tidal waves evaporated and the storm subsided, instantly. Only darkness. Only emptiness. Only silence. Maybe this was death.

A woman stood in front of him. She had dark, frayed and matted hair that looked as though it was very beautiful at one time. Her brow was stained with blood that flowed slowly into her face, pooled under her black eyes, and dripped down her cheeks. Her skin looked translucent, blue and cold, not like that of anyone living. She was covered in scrapes and burns; so many they were impossible to count. Most of her bones looked as though they were crumbling under her flesh, and you could see some of them protruding out with muscle around her left wrist and elbow. She stared deeply at him, with a gaze as chilling and vast as this void was itself. Time ceased. There was only her, and whatever was left there of him.

“Zaaachaaaarrry” she whispered in a thousand tearful voices.

Zachary. That was his name. She knew it even though he didn’t. Now he remembered, like she had given him some sort of a gift. How did she know? Why was he here with her, in this desolate place. Why had she brought him here?

All of the sudden, a bright glow flowed over her skin. The blood, the scrapes and burns faded, the bones mended back together rapidly, and the color returned to her face. It was as though life was returning to her, although he could still see her injuries vibrate like ripples over her now healthy body, as if these two states of her being were one in the same. Entities of pure light floated towards her from four different directions, circling and joining forces in her center, and she held the light like a small child in her arms.

“Zacharryyyyy” she said, in a much lighter, gentler tone, but equally as powerful. “I forgive you”.

“Whaaaa whattt?!” Zachary exclaimed, finally finding his voice and beginning to feel the presence of himself again.

“I forgive you Zachary. Make it up to me. Make it up to them. Go home now. You have a lot of work to do”. She seemed kind now, but still firm. He knew her tone was serious.

“How do I leave this place?” His mind swirled. The confusion seemed to be fading now, into the background, and the certainty that maybe he would get to live began to grow and bring him comfort. There was a glow of white light encompassing them both now.

“Take the stairway down” she said confidently, “You won’t want to go, but you must. It’s time now”.

Suddenly, Zachary saw he stood atop of a spiral staircase, dark and mysterious all the way down, below him with no end in sight. She was right, he was tempted to stay with her. What had just been a black hole of a nightmare had faded into a soft, ethereal dream, and he was surprised at his longing to stay there in her now angelic and protective presence. Yet, he knew now what he must do.

With each descending step down, his senses came to life again, oh so slowly. Each footstep was like a small surge of electric lightning, making its way through the Frankenstein’s monster that was his body. The memories started coming back too. He started to remember beyond the screams. He remembered the sirens, and the blue and red lights. He suddenly felt incredibly swollen and heavy, and could smell the harsh chemical sent of Clorox and hear the sounds of mechanical beeping far in the background.

He wasn’t quite there yet, but he was close. The white light at the top of the staircase disappeared more and more with each lift and turn of his ankles, circling down, down, down, to this old familiar world. He felt the brush of a hand across his fingertips.

“… Mom?” He whispered softly.

**************

“Mom”.

She knew what she had heard.

Tabitha squeezed Zachary’s fingertips and burst into tears. She didn’t know what the future of her life looked like anymore. Sitting in this sterile, florescent hospital ward, she didn’t know if her son would ever walk again, or if he would be able to finish college. She didn’t know what lengthy physical therapy sessions, visits to neurologists, appointments with lawyers, and court proceedings were ahead of them. With those 3 little letters though, she knew he would live. She knew he was still here with her.

The last few days had been out of her worst nightmares. She had arrived at nearly 4 am to the scene of the accident. As soon as she had picked up the phone late that night, it was as if her life began moving in slow motion… the totaled cars, the broken glass everywhere along the road, the stains of blood… The poor woman he had t-boned with his SUV, being rolled away in a black body bag. A mother of four, they had said.

At the hospital, his blood alcohol level had measured nearly at 0.3, along with a cocktail of several nefarious sounding substances, some with acronyms she had never even heard of before. Contusions, lacerations, concussions, broken ribs, spinal fractures… all these other words had clouded her mind with anxiety and grief.

She grieved for the life that could have been, and the families that were now shattered forever. She grieved for all the ways she could have been a better mother, and for the mistakes now that could never be undone.

“Mom”.

It was the only word she would hear him say for weeks ahead. It would take a long while for his vocabulary, his brain and body to return to Earth. She knew now though, with that one word, that her son wasn’t about to be taken from her forever. She knew that although there was a long and difficult road ahead for them all, healing was possible, and maybe one day, repentance. Maybe one day, for Zachary, he could find forgiveness.

Through her tears, full of equal parts joy and suffering, she continued gently stroking Zachary’s hand. She dreamt that one day soon, he could tell the tale to her himself, of the time when his spirit had run off to the heavens to face the light, and returned home to her once again.