Zera

From the beginning of ages the soul has existed. But to what extent? Is there a soul, or simply a mind? Does it begin when the brain sparks its first synapses? Or is it eternal, waiting for the single, glorious moment one specific mind is brought into being? Some may contemplate these complexities, but others, like Zera, need to be explicitly shown.

Zera, a rather unremarkable woman, was waking up for another relentless work day. Zera didn’t hate the office, but she dreaded it. She had been looking for the connection, the spark that made her feel alive and driven, though at 33 years it was no where in sight. Her previous job was too slow, the one before too busy, and this one is just dull. “Is this all life has to offer?” she thought as she readied herself for the day, and on some level she suspected it was. She dreamt of adventures and excitement she would never experience. Zera was not a miserable woman, simply a melancholic bore surrounded by a life of mediocrity. Zera poured her coffee, and was out the door for her walk to work.

As she strolled, her mind zoning out in a mediocre haze, she saw something that caught her attention. A large sign with words written on cloth and strung between two poles. On it read “$20,000 Today. One Chance, One Entry, One Prize.” In front was a man, an intriguing man with a black fedora. His clothes were dark and rugged, though very specifically put together. The whole scene looked like an old timey carnival. The man shouted a rhyme of sorts as if he were a court jester. There were brightly coloured ribbons woven into hair peeking beneath his cap. He had black eyeliner, deep brown lips, and eyes of emerald green. Zera’s mind began to race, imagining all the things she could do with twenty thousand dollars; maybe it could make her as interesting as the man in front of that sign. Then she heard:

“Come one, come all

I’m giving the call

To tether your soul

To a pillory pole,

Who has the gall?”

Zera, driven by her desire of money and an escape from boredom, was drawn towards this man. As a moth to a flame, the unremarkable to the uncommon.

“Come here, come see

Come over to me

A little black book,

Will it get you hooked,

Or set you free?”

Zera was now standing eight paces away from the man. His hands were in front of him, holding a black hard-cover notebook, a journal of sorts. Where did the book come from? One minute his hands were empty, and the next, voila. He must be a trickster; distracting to make simple movements undetectable. Around the book Zera noticed a shine. The book looked back-lit, a visible invisibility; a colourless aura surrounding the black cover. The book called, compelling her closer.

“What do you say

To make $20K

Make it to the end

Or you may spend

Your life in the grey.”

Zera realized she was now directly in front of the man. She had not felt herself move. Then she heard in a low voice, as if to her:

“Just one touch

The draw is too much,

And it will be yours,

Can you follow the course?

Can you escape the clutch?”

Unable to resist, Zera lifted her hand towards the man. She reached out and softly grazed the book. Just as soon as she touched it, it was as if reality forcefully slapped her out of the spell, and she sprang back from the man she was now uncomfortably close to. She then heard the final stanza:

“To complete the book

And get off the hook,

You must look inside

So you may unwind

The shine that you forsook.”

As the man finished, Zera realized his lips were not moving. He spoke to her, but she did not perceive movement. Perhaps he was a ventriloquist? A trickster.

Zera finished her walk, reflecting on the unusual encounter. She forgot to ask about the contest. Was she supposed to read the journal? Oh well, another opportunity missed. Zera walked into the office building. Sitting down in her cubicle, she peeked inside her bag. There, in front, was the notebook. How did it get here? “I should have tipped him”, she thought. That tricky man was the type of remarkable she wished she were.

Zera pulled the notebook out and opened it. Blank? Each page was blank! Is this the contest? How is she supposed to 'Make it to the end'? She flipped to the back, and back to the beginning. Then she saw it. On the first page was a drawing of a lion. "How had I missed this?" she thought as she reached out to touch the pencil work, not truly believing its existence. Instantly she could hear a deafening ‘SWOOSH’; then everything went black.

Zera, opening her eyes, saw a meadow before her. She stood in long grass, feeling it feather her knees. Each blade fine as silk, soft as a cloud. She looked outward; for miles it was lush and vibrant. She could see every blade of grass uniquely; thin and green with yellow edges and golden tips. She could hear the land sing, and feel the wind kiss slowly around her neck. At her feet she felt soft, raw earth; sensing the life wriggling beneath. She felt its weight and power instantaneously. She perceived everything that was, will be, and is. Zera looked up and saw a man. Large, muscular, beautiful, graceful; amazing in every way. This person looked the very depiction of a warrior in stance, stature, and build. Around his figure was that aura, like the book, except stronger. Glowing, colourless, soft. Zera felt like she could see, feel, hear, and fully experience this being. She could connect and simply be. Everything was simultaneous. There was no time; no past, no future, no now. It all coincided in an instant, and felt in its entirety.

“Zera, you’re here! I have missed you.”

He spoke as if they were friends, though she did not recognize him. Was this individual even a he? It had all the strengths of both masculinity and femininity. She could only describe this being simply as, well, being.

“What is this place?” Zera finally gasped in awe.

“This is peace. The collection of all souls and spirits. This is where we come from, this fold in reality, before we march over yonder. Here, souls thrive. They run, stroll, sing, interact. They dance in harmony until their time is called to go.”

“Why would anyone ever leave?” Zera was baffled. Saddened at the very idea of ever having to go back there.

“It is not a choice, but a draft. A war of our kind. Your name is called and you must listen. Calamity, hatred, greed, despair; you must march through it all. A place where you are tested, tried, persecuted. Momentary happiness and peace throughout, but just enough to hurt when taken away.”

As the man spoke, Zera recalled a memory. She remembered walking, talking, and laughing. She remembered the very first moment of dread she ever experienced, when her name was called. But she also remembered pride. Pride knowing she had a chance to make that dark, miserable reality a little more bearable. She remembered being told,

“You exist for this reason. You are strong, powerful; you can live long and well. You can bring happiness to all that cross your path. You will be happy, and you will know you are happy because of the deep pain you will also endure. Here is peace, harmony, joy, calm; everything good. Here you are happy, not because you know evil, you just are. Over there you cannot know one without the other, nothing simply exists. There are rules, comparisons, yin and yang. Nothing can exist there without a polar opposite.”

“Why does that reality need to exist?” She remembers herself asking, “Why can’t things just be?”

“Because, my love, the worlds are watching. All of them. We need to know the question of ‘why’ and ‘what if’. It is every beings nature to question; but some curiosities are too dangerous to contemplate. So that reality must exist. Each one must walk through, with their soul intact, to be able to understand. To answer the questions.”

As Zera recalled the conversation that felt from a foggy past, she instantly recognized the being and exclaimed, “Nessa! Oh Nessa, I know you! I’ve missed you. Without realizing, I have longed to come back. Is my march over?”

“No Zera, not yet. I have called you, through the fabric of reality, to warn you of your soul. You are slowly turning into a being that cannot exist free of guile. You are becoming too dependent on sadness, negativity, and melancholy to the point of being unable to enjoy anything without it. Here, none of that exists. To make it back, you must look towards good.”

“What do you mean?”

“Greed, envy, jealousy. You feel mediocre because you have become mediocre. You do not shine. You are dull and you have no peace because all you seek is something other than what you have. You are not content with your life; All you want is better, more. You will never be content because there will always be more. Change your goals and be at peace. Find the bliss that feeds your soul with everything you have. Greed, jealousy, envy; none of those can exist here because none of those do.”

Zera began to feel her blood boil. “How dare . . .”

“Zera, how did you get here?”

“A man with a book.”

“What caught your eye first; the book, or the man?"

“Neither, I saw a sign.”

“What did you see?”

“I saw ‘$20,000 To . . .” Zera trailed off; the money. She saw the prize and imagined the momentary joys it could bring. Nessa was right. He had spoken an ugly truth.

“What do I do?” Zera asked, almost feeling crippled by the idea of never coming back here. She felt pathetic and ashamed of who she had become.

“Go in peace. Do good for others. Be a fire in the cold darkness. Guide the way and all who march across your path will bathe in your light. You have a shine, it’s just hidden under the veil of melancholy and mediocrity.” As Nessa finished his sentence, his eyes saddened. Instantly , just as Zera had been pushed between the fabric of the two realities, there was that deafening “WHOOSH”, and darkness.

Zera blinked. Her desk, her cubicle. She felt a rush of loneliness she had never experienced. Something that is only felt in the absence of Purity. She looked up and her boss was peaking around the wall boxing her in. “Zera, you have a visitor here to see you.” Zera looked up and saw the trickster from before.

“Here, Zera.” The man was holding a cheque for twenty thousand dollars.

“But I didn’t do anything,” Zera began, “I was supposed to . . .” As she lifted the notebook in front of her she saw the pages were filled with script. Gold, beautiful calligraphy. The conversation she had just had with an extra note at the end.

“I miss you. Finish your march, gather your soul, and come back home.”

Zera looked up, the cheque was in her hand. “Where did that trickster go?!” She stared at it. “What do I do?” Zeras eyes then landed on the broken water cooler in the corner. An appliance the office used to huddle around, taking momentary breaks in their day to sit, converse, and connect by. A cooler unfixed due to budget cuts. As Zera gazed she thought, “Well, that is somewhere to start.” And the start it was, of a glorious new beginning.