Shadow of The Cave
March 31st 2009
2:32 am
“Behind every man lies his Shadow.”
– Jay R. Loti
1 At first, summer silence surged into the world from its core. Then, two pairs of eardrums awoke from the silent dream. Through grass and leaves dancing with a subtle breeze came harmony from Gaia's night beings. Foxes finding their prey, and rabbits running away. Crickets with something to say, and snakes with whispers that fade. Dogs howl as they drown in isolation; cats scratch and plea with deaf basement doors. In the minds of Jack Phoenix Seqora and Pierce August Lenius, all the sounds were but ambience to the heavy percussion of heartbeat and feet meeting pavement.
They walked side-by-side down the dimly lit suburban street. Crime was not the type of thing typical to meet one in Littleton, Colorado. I'm sure you've heard the name before. On April 20th 1999, came the shooting named “Columbine[1].” Pierce and Jack were in 3rd grade at separate schools as gunshots murdered students and teachers just a short drive away. Mothers and fathers came to school and hid their children for the day. Video games and movies with violence were blamed for the tragedy. 007 Golden Eye was said to have been found in Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold's home. After the shooting, that one was especially hard to find.
Pierce and Jack were playing the game together when Jack’s mom plucked the game out of the Nintendo 64. They had gotten into a fair amount of trouble together as kids—not enough to break their friendship, but plenty to fill a campfire with stories. But tonight, Jack's backpack chimed full of spray-paint as his hood slouched over his face. His features were cloaked in Shadows. Pierce came along for the journey like always; he and Jack were “Bro’s before cornrows.” They walked along Colorado Boulevard towards “Chill Bridge,” the crew’s favorite spot. Middle class cars slept peacefully as their drivers’ eyes rolled rapidly from side to side.
There were streetlights above them that led the way. They came to pass beneath the 14th light on the block. The bulb flickered and died. Both pairs of eyes looked up to the sky wondering, 'why?'. They continued on their way to “Chill Bridge,” not noticing Darkness sweeping dust up the street as it came to greet them. The moment Jack came under the threshold of the next street lamp, it popped.
“What the fuck?” Pierce looked up and ran ahead trying to find solace in the next lamp, but Darkness waited for its patient. Jack threw his hood back as an alarming awareness of being watched filled like yellow spots on a dying man’s skin. He thrashed his head from side-to-side, shrugged his shoulders and said, “That was weird. Two in a row...” His voice echoed, and came back to him fading, “No, no, no, no…”
Pierce’s compact muscle fibers sprinted ahead as he passed beneath four more street lamps. They illuminated his path and his presence. Just as Jack came beneath the third lamp, the filament snapped and the light gave way to the Darkness. Pierce's eyes flung open wide as he watched several Shadows sprint to join the legion of Darkness surrounding his best friend.
“Yo, Jack, what the hell is going on?” Pierce whispered as not to disturb the silent night. Warmth drained from his skin and was strangled beneath the black pavement.
A frigid wave of air crawled from Jack’s toes to the tip of his nose. The tide raised the hair on his legs all the way up to the top of his spine. He shivered.
“Dude, I don't know. T-t-this is really fucking weird. S-s-starting to creep me out.” His words chopped as his teeth chattered.
Jack trotted backwards down the street with his head facing the coming Darkness, trying to find an answer. His pupils scurried hopelessly trying to find a reason why the Darkness overcame the lights.
The very instant he passed beneath fourth lamp, its filament exploded, sending a snapping snare into the air. He dropped his backpack full of cans, and he ran. The fifth popped. He turned around ready to fight something or someone, but just ahead of him the 6th popped.
“It's got to be the power-grid or something man quit trippin' out.” Pierce chuckled as tried to calm his nerves with a facade of reason.
“Yeah fuck-it. Whatever it was, I dunno. But Dark shit was creeeepin' on me, man.” Jack walked back and picked up his backpack. His words echoed around the bend. As he touched the cloth he felt whispers slither through his shaggy hair.
The spirit of Darkness waited high in the sky.
‘Twas almost time. Prior to the rising of the Sun, the prophecy wouldst be revealed, but It shan’t spread. The truth wouldst wither and die as a plant without water or Light. There shan’t be a final testimony. ‘Twas the coming of Man’s Darkest Night.
As the two of them made their way across the Highline Canal, Pierce decided to use the silence as an opportunity to make a few laughs, ya know, lighten the mood a little bit.
“Looked like u wurr tryin’ to fight ‘dat electricity monster Jurr” Pierce curved his chin to pronounce the nick names all their friends had given each other. There was Jurr, Turr, Purr, Gurr, Burr and Andurr. First letter followed by 'urr' seemed to confuse most people when they talked, but they understood. Friends since the age of two usually had their own lingo going on by eighteen. Didn't matter if no one else could understand, because they had the tightest crew anyone could ask for.
Jack replied with bitterness stinging his tongue, “I guess dude. But you were the one who ran away first. Shit wasn't following you.”
“Nothin' was following you my man. Must’ave some sorta magnet on you popping lights with your buuuttery vibes. What are you about to put up on this wall here, Jurr?” Pierce pointed ahead across the first bridge.
“I've shown you that symbol right? It's like a yin yang but J.P. style?”
Pierce looked upwards into his high-strained mind. With his buddy THC lounging around, he could vaguely recall the symbol, “Oh you mean the yin yang with the white cross in the black dot or whatever?”
“Yeah, and the black crescent moon and star in the white dot. Daoism plus Christianity plus Islam. You know, White—Black, Light—Darkness, Good and Evil, Day and Night, balance between the two. That kinda shit.” Jack's hands spoke with his words, getting ready to spray the shape onto the wall.
As they crossed the bridge the two boys paused to look into the water. The reflection of the cloudy sky gave way to the subtle Light of the crescent moon. Jack slid his hand across the coarse red iron handrail. It sent swiveling synapses into his brain. White noise of the small waterfall ahead comforted their minds like a fleece blanket.
“Well don't we speak of the devil? ‘Dere she is, shining and all. Getting ready to set.” Pierce nodded towards the water instead of the sky, his mouth mimicking a southern accent. He spit a mouth full of saliva as he imitated a lip full of chaw with his protruding tongue.
“Must be my time. Wait—the moon sets?” Jack asked.
“Yeah man, didn't you know that?”
“Uhh. I guess not. Whatever. People hardly ever pay attention to that shit these days, but I am totally trying to though. I gotta look up some constellations and stuff, so I can know where I am in the sky, ya know?” Jack took a white can out of his pack and screwed on the nozzle that sprayed fat lines.
“No need to be on top of your shiiiet if you got it in your pocket.” Pierce’s voice peaked as he slapped the silicon box in his cargo shorts.
The stream of white paint stained the grey cement wall. Tiny particles bounced off the cement and floated into the air. A strong current carried them far off into the distance. It floated along fluffs of cotton and tufts of dust. The white paint made its way to Charlotte Brielle DeBord’s windowpane.
The collison of paint and glass was silent to the waking mind. But hers was dreaming. She was caught in a spider-web of thoughts and combating imagery. There were shapes morphing and flowing with color. French, English, and Spanish spilled like rivers from a cliff into her dreamscape. Three distinct parts of the world fought for the foundation of her dream. Her eyes read the images flooding her mind—back and forth, back and forth, transitioning into deep REM sleep.
The subtle sound of sprayed paint splattering on the window pane came into her dream as a concussion emanating waves. All images pulsed together into one. She was looking outside the balcony of her fourth floor apartment in Paris. Her dream body floated down to the ground and was swept along like a leaf by the wind. It carried her outside her Grandmother's favorite shop. Adrienne passed away when Charlotte was 7. While holding her Granddaughter in her lap, she would tell stories about smiley faces, camels, and the number 17.
Her dream body waited patiently in front of an antique shop that Charlotte’s father did business with. Two weeks before Adrienne passed away, she took Charlotte to this shop. There was a bronze camel on display through the front windowpane. The reflection of the crescent moon swooned her eyes to the camel’s smile. Its neck peered towards the Light. It had packs on either side, but no rider. Charlotte's vision drew towards the camel's eye. The reflection of Night’s Arabian sky consumed her mind.
Her mind was floating around on a cloud as she watched a man on top of a camel ride gently across the desert. Charlotte could taste the dry dehydration on his tongue. Charlotte could hear his every thought, feel his every breath, and sink into his every emotionless motion. The rolling, guttural sounds of Arabic stuck out in her mind like a flag in the ground. Perception swooned like a dove around the animal and its rider—the angles gave her eye the freedom to wonder. It hung in the camel’s heavy breath, and paused to stare into its lively black eye, which curved the reflection of the heavenly Night sky. It blinked once slowly, and then the second time it swallowed all the Light in her mind.
Charlotte’s perception was swirling in circles around a central point. With each rotation her mind made, it made the next one faster. It was like a planet getting closer and closer to the black hole. There was nothing but the man’s thoughts filling the Darkness of the cave. She could feel his heartbeat slapping his neck, and the deep weighted breaths wheezing out of his chest.
She drank the adrenaline in the man’s stomach, feeling it ooze and goo like ancient primordial stew. She became nauseatingly dizzy by the constant rotation of her mind, and the cave didn’t seem to be empty anymore. The Darkness seemed to be filling up with purpose like a baloon. Its rubber skin was inflating from within, and she felt the pressure begin to peak.
The pressure of the cave was filling up her head. Charlotte's eyes raced frantically across her lids as she struggled to find the sheets in her bed. It was a technique she had to use many times throughout her life. Sometimes the only way to find reality in dreams was to find the sheets. When she grasped them, Light would gasp like a gust of wind, and come to rest inside her pupils. She could then pull herself out of the nightmare plaguing her mind. But tonight, her body was completely still.
Meanwhile, Jack's index finger became increasingly fatigued by the constant press on the spray nozzle. The crescent moon was all that was missing from the symbol.
“Yo Pierce. Do you know how Muhammad had his first revelation[2]?”
“Nah man. Tell me about it.”
Jack practiced spraying the crescent moon and star on a loose stone before putting it on the symbol. He gave the paint time to dry so a new layer wouldn't drip.
“Well, in about 600 AD, he was meditating in a cave for huge durations at a time. He would come outside and go home to his wife for bread and water, and then go straight back to the cave.” Jack shook the can and looked back at Pierce. He smiled as he saw the crescent moon begin to set above his best friend’s head.
He continued, “And they say he was in the cave for almost three months straight, in complete Darkness—can you imagine being in complete Darkness with nothing to do but think? People get scared in their house when its Dark and they hear the floorboards creak. Imagine a cave! And for three months!”
Pierce added, “Yeah, and I heard that if you are in complete Darkness for 6 months you go blind.”
“Damn thats intense.” Jack sprayed the first line. Then the next.
“Well he was in the cave and an Angel appeared to him and said, 'Recite'”
The black can choked and spattered; it had pressed out the last drop of paint.
Pressure piled high and Charlotte’s mind inhabited the man for fear of taking up any extra space in the cave and making it explode. Blinding light closed Charlotte's pupils faster then anything man had ever experienced. The light pried into the dark black holes in her eyes; it poured pain and suffering into the tiny openings. Her eyes watered profusely. The light maintained the shape of a man, but its extremities filled up the cave with air that was white-like matter.
She found herself in silence but knew she should have heard words. Charlotte shook her head and spit out a foreign tongue, “I cannot recite.” The Angel squeezed her with all its pent up patience and strength. The word, “recite!” shook every loose rock in the cave. She refused her order once again, saying “I cannot recite.” She fought through all the knowledge in her mind, but nothing was of valor to recite to an Angel of light. The squeezing this time was almost unbearable, and again thundered the command, “recite!”
Jack swallowed as he shook another can, “A third time Muhammad refused the Angel. A third time the Angel squeezed him into exhaustion and said—“
“In the name of Allah, the Most Beneficent, the Most Merciful. In the name of thy Lord who createth, createth man from a clot. And thy Lord is the most Bounteous, who teacheth by pen, teacheth man that which he knew not” The Angel's words rang through Charlotte's dream body and she could feel the material world being pulled by its seams. It began to loosen like thread. The balance and established order was beginning to shake, and reality was tearing apart. She wanted to wake up, but she could not find her self within the dream.
Jack continued, “The Angel visiting Muhammad was apparently Gabriel[3], the same Angel who came to Mary[4] about her child, and the same Angel who came to Daniel[5] about his dream of the end. So the way I see it, Gabriel came around 600 BC—then just before Christ was born, and again almost exactly 600 years later to Muhammad. It’s like the timeline of Gabriel’s appearance is a mirror with the birth of Christ as the reflection.”
Charlotte heard the echoes of her mother’s words fill the agonizing stillness of the cave, “Gabrielle is what I wanted to name you. But your father thought Gabby wouldn’t be a very nice nickname, and it turns out you were pretty chatty indeed.” Her mother’s words rang across the sharp rocks in the cave, changed, and came back to her saying, “leave, leave, leave, leave…” Charlotte stood up and heard the words, “Brielle—short for Gabrielle” as she leapt out of the cave. Her feet bounced off the stones outside the cave and landed in the cold sand; she felt the strange feeling of a full on sprint. It was something her material body never liked to do. Leg pains from an early age inhibited any intense movement. But now, sprinting through desert sand in the body of a man was exhilerating. Just before she opened the door of what she knew to be home, her perception left the man's body.
“'Cover me, cover me' Muhammad said to his wife,” Jack's mind recalled the layout of the Wikipedia page he read earlier in the week about Muhammad's first revelation.
Her perception circled about the room as the married couple embraced. Then Charlotte's mind filled the woman named Kadisha, and she felt comforting warmth radiate from her skin into her husband's body. Color pulsed in ripples with their embrace as the center. The waves filled the house’s empty space and reflected off the walls, and the cups, and the plates, and the chairs. Muhammad was outlined with a Dark Shadow of fear, his face drained a pale shade of gray. He shook.
Charlotte tried to sooth him, "Allah will never disgrace you. You unite uterine relations; you bear the burden of the weak; you help the poor and the needy; you entertain the guests and endure hardships in the path of truthfulness." The rhythm of Arabic translated through Love into knowledge inside her mind.
Jack stood back from the symbol and smiled as he looked at the wall.
“Yaaay-uhh, that's legit!” Pierce clapped his homie’s hand and they smacked their shoulders together.
Jack was pleased, “Thanks man. I appreciate your look out.”
The colors in her dream began to fade from the seams. The edges of her mind found clouds of fog seeping in from either side. She saw the eye of the camel blink, collapsing her into the streets of Paris, flowing like wind up to the balcony of her 4th floor apartment. Her body collapsed on her bed, and she fell into a deep sleep within her dream. The porcelain Lucy Doll Adrienne had gifted her was sitting in the closet keeping watch over Charlotte’s dream within a dream.
“Yo man you need another pillow?” Jack tossed out one of his extras to Pierce on the couch.
He laid his head to rest and quietly said, “Yeah man. Thanks.” Pierce closed his eyes and slowly drifted off towards sleep.
Jack made his way into his queen size bed upstairs. His feet were cautious not to wake his parents. He knew the parts of the floor that screamed, “SNEAKING OUT!” and the ones that kept to themselves.
The instant his foot pressed down the tight carpet fibers, his bedside lamplight flickered out. Frame-by-frame, each of the 6 street lights gave way to Darkness again in his mind. He sighed. The bedframe squeaked as he plopped on top of the pillow-top bed and made comfort under the cotton covers.
There’s something more than an electrical grid going out.
Jack pushed a heavy Shadow out of his chest with each and every breath.
He sighed as words from his friend Drew echoed through the silence of his mind, “Yo, check out this band called ‘Pretty Lights[6].’” He turned up the dial. Detailed, fluid, textured, and unique sound snapped through the air.
“This is some of the tightest shit I’ve ever heard.” Jack throbbed his head to the beat.
Drew continued as the white iPhone light reflected off his face, “Yeah. Apparently its just one guy who does a bunch of acid[7]. People say he dropped out of Boulder to make music.”
“It’s so rare to hear a new sound, you know what I mean? I never heard anything remotely like this.” Jack wondered, as he was intrigued by the heavy gravity created by the music. A sphere of energy filled the air and condensed with sound. People came rhomping down the stairs into Drew’s basement. Their eardrums soaking in the noise, asking “what is this?”
Jack answered, “Pretty Lights,” he nodded with confidence as he watched a circle of friends bump to the beat. He felt a tingling mist of inspiration rise up through his chest. He wanted to be the one who made people move their feet like that.
“I wonder where he comes up with this stuff…” Jack spoke towards Drew’s tall, tan frame.
“Acid.” Drew replied with certainty.
Jack turned his head, “You think?”
He continued, “Yeah dude. It just gives a new perspective on everything. Both times I did acid in Boulder we started talking about god and the end of the world and shit. The craziest part was I was with people I didn’t even know. It was nuts because I come back from school, and here you are talking about god and the end of the world.” Drew nodded as he pat Jack’s shoulder, “I seriously think you should try it Jurr. Of all people, I think you'd like it.”
“I dunno man, that man-made shit sketches me out. I don't know if I'm down.” His tentative reply filled the absence of certainty lingering like vapor in his mind, and at 3:13 AM Jack Phoenix Seqora fell asleep.
I love the symbolism and the play of light versus dark. I like the use of the more stream of consciousness style, but it can get a little hard to read. I like the introduction of Charlotte and her experience of Mohammad, but I'm not sure what her purpose is. I know this is just the first chapter to the book, but it isn't terribly clear how she relates to Jack and his experiences. I enjoyed the use of the yin-yang in the text itself: very clever.
ReplyDeleteI liked how the first few sentences just grabs you. I feel like the beginning is the most important part because that will determine whether your readers will stay with you. It was a great read and I enjoyed your characters; you developed them very well.
ReplyDeleteSome of the best elements of this story are the power in which it conveys fear. When the characters are talking about the revelations of the angel Gabriel to Muhammad it is eerily similar to two characters in Ghostbusters talking about the rising dead. The story possess a great power of showing that there is more to come in the story. However, much like a William Gibson novel, the characters involved appear to be rushing towards something, but that something doesn’t happen. It is as if a person were in a Saw film, waiting to be tortured, and waiting, and waiting. It is a loaded gun being pointed and just pointed. The story has strong elements that could take it to the next level, it just has to use it.
ReplyDeleteI love this. I really like all the Denver, Boulder, Pretty Lights imagery. Pretty lights comes at an interesting time that contrasts the darkness thats been going on and I think you captured the power that pretty lights has had on people, maybe specifically on Denver and Colorado, but all over too. Generally speaking though I thought the imagery throughout the whole piece was amazing, it had a very real way of transporting me through Charlottes dream and Pierce and Jacks conversations and making me feel as though I was there. I especially like your use of the dream and the language you used to describe the dream. I think it really captured the fluidity, the uncertainty, fear, confusion and transformative power of dreams. I can't wait to see where the rest of the book goes.
ReplyDeleteI am a big fan of the light/dark symbolism. I thought it added a lot to the story and additionally, gave the story form and backbone in places that it could otherwise get confusing. It seems realistic and believable and I especially liked the dream and the power of it. I'd definitely want to read the next chapter!
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ReplyDeleteALSO, I forgot to say, I really liked the rhyming parts. It added a nice poetic feel to the prose.
ReplyDeleteI really liked the use of similes in your story. I thought the descriptions of the settings were awesome. I thought the dialog was nice as well. The symbolism was nicely developed. Overall great chapter.
ReplyDeleteWell written piece, with a lot of fantastic descriptions. The story was really deep and well thought out. You did a great job with connections between 'light and dark'. I thought the dream sequence was a nice touch, although may cause confusion, I thought it went perfect in you piece.
ReplyDeleteFirstly I want to acknowledge your mastery of blogger. How did you get your format to be perfect? That aside my opinions begin. I think you are very good with similes, metaphors and have a keen sense of detail where you feel it is important. You seem to get wrapped up in certain details as if forgetting we are not in your head and can not just jump to certain conclusions one example being the dream world. Also I would like to hear more about the characters. I know this a part one of four but just for our sake, perhaps you could end on a cliff hanger.
ReplyDeleteThis got a little hard to read. I liked the concept of light versus dark. it was quite interesting though. I also agree with the previous comment and the perfection of the blog format.
ReplyDeleteJohn, having read your entire book that you have out, it is safe to say that this is a great microcosm for what the rest of the story is. You somehow manage to include some of the most minute details in your writing, even though it still seems simple. Yeah, a lot of people will have some difficulty reading your writing, but that is due to your style of writing and your sentence structure. Honestly, keep writing and honing your style and reading future works of yours shall be even more entertaining.
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