~
Consequence
Tia gripped her face with shaking, sweaty hands. She dared to peak through her fingers to find nothing to see. Then, snapped her head left, right, up and down: pitch blackness enveloped her. Beneath her? There was nothing. She was neither gliding, falling nor soaring. There was no smell, and other than her frantic rasping, no sound. She willed Tialand into being. It did not appear. The city. It did not appear. Her flat. Anything. Anywhere.
The temperature soared. The ground that appeared beneath her naked feet was molten metal. An incalculable number of shrieking people surrounded her, flaming arms outstretched; crisping fingers reached up to her as the bodies they were attached to sank beneath the white hot surface. Screaming, she jumped to fly, and couldn’t, then scrambled for a hand hold above her, there was nothing. As she landed back on the liquefied floor, she caught fire. A man yelled as flames burst from blackened eye sockets, he grabbed her shoulders with burning hands and pushed her downward. Powerless, she sank, as his blazing stumps pressed down on her head and knees pushed on her shoulders. She snatched at the air and convulsed as blood haemorrhaged through her mouth. Silence fell as she slipped below the surface.
She awoke, whole, uninjured, surrounded by pitch darkness. No smell, silence. No Tialand. No city. Her scream was absolute terror.
The temperature soared. The ground that appeared beneath her feet was molten metal. She leapt above the vast ocean of screaming people and cried with elation as soaring flight returned. Her body hovered in the space above the writhing mass for a single, agonising moment, and then she fell again. Fear broke from within the fabric that held her together. As if in slow motion, she watched as her toes brushed the glowing floor. She ran and slipped, knocked a burning woman over who fell next to her and wailed as she watched her flaming arm sink into the metal inch by inch. Pain beyond experience overwhelmed her senses. She whipped out her arm, the skin was gone below her elbow, the remains of her hand quivered, fingers blackened, bone, aflame. She slumped forward, screaming silenced as she slipped below the gently rippling surface.
Awoke. In the darkness, she bawled until hoarse.
She tore at her hair, pulled it out in chunks.
Clawed at her skin, her finger nails scraping until nails chipped on bone.
The metal floor appeared. Scrambling. On top of. As many beings as she could grab, fighting to stay afloat, screaming. Mind gone as she slipped below the surface.
She awoke and landed on the metal floor, awoke and landed on the metal floor, awoke floor awoke floor awoke.
Many thousands of years later, it stopped.
She was naked, curled in a ball, shivering uncontrollably.
People ran about her, jostling, jumped over her, moaning, stood on her, kicked her, roaring, from room to room, she was on her feet, instinct, pushed her to run, just to run, run, shrieking, her skin blistered, hair caught fire, an exit, there had to be a way out, the building roasted, a sledge hammer swung, from the ceiling, slammed into her stomach, she flew through the blazing, hot air, and landed, on the scorching floor, no screaming, only retching, in the burning, she forced herself, onto hands, and knees, a coat of molten metal, was placed over her, screams ceased, she slumped to the floor, people ran, frantic, roaring, roaring, wailing, from room to room, hair caught fire, as, frenzied, she banged on a windowless wall, hands broken, turned, to see a hammer, swing, from the ceiling, and slam, into a man’s head, an exit, way out, now, coat, molten metal, placed over her, howling, slumped to the floor, finger nails scratching, down a wall, people ran, roaring, burning, exit, exit, exit, exit, exit. Many millions of years later, it stopped.
She lay face down on a frozen, smooth mirrored surface, unable to move, for an invisible force held her securely in place. A tall, broad featureless figure made of rippling, nebulous black shadow approached her from above. Tendrils of darkness caressed her bare skin, trails of ice formed in their wake. The being’s heavy clopping ceased, a cloak of darkness that stank of rotting fish enveloped her and indistinct, multilayered whispering penetrated her, taunting her. An incorporeal hoof rested in the small of her back, weight was forced upon her, as she was sliced vertically from neck to tailbone. Then diagonally from each shoulder to the opposite buttock; then across her shoulders, legs then arms. In moments, she was crisscrossed and bleeding profusely. Neat rows of beings appeared to her left and right, ahead and behind, above and below her, all were being carved open by the tormentor with its myriad of indistinct arms. Her eyes rolled upward and she vomited blood as her body became whole again. Sound no longer escaped her lips as she was sliced apart, made whole, sliced apart, made whole, sliced apart. A trillion years later, it stopped.
Michael, George and Marissa were bathed in gentle, spring sunshine. They stood on top of a lush, green hill, jumping up and down, calling her name, waving to her, laughing happily. She stood at its base, a hint of the cool breeze above played on her face and tickled her nostrils. Tears fell freely as she cried with joy at the sight of her beautiful lovers. All of this vile terror would be a dreamlike memory she could banish to nothingness the instant she wrapped herself in their love and warmth.
The coals beneath her feet blazed.
Not caring, she ran up the hill with all her might.
The smell of roasting flesh filled her flaming nostrils. Her feet cooked.
She stumbled and fell; her hands sank beneath the glowing, crackling surface. She pulled them out, hands were gone, bloody stumps burned, she stood and ran on ankles, tears evaporated. Somehow, she made it to the top of the barren, burning hill. Where were her darlings? Giant snarling, scaly monsters, with acidic drool dripping generously from their blackened, six inch fangs, pounced on her and tore her to pieces. Michael, George and Marissa stood on top of a hill, calling her. She was at its base.
Flames blazed in the space normally reserved for cloud. She fell from the raging sky and landed on a rocky, red hot mountain side. There was no vegetation of any kind and not a trace of moisture. Each snatched breath scorched the back of her throat. She spun around on bare heels, scattering baking stones. She was alone. She was never alone. Fear mushroomed exponentially as her heart sprinted.
Where were the others?
The rippling black shadow?
Incorporeal hoofs?
She turned, those her monsters had eaten closed in, crouching low, snarling like rabid dogs, turned, Tialanders she’d played with hissed, drool dripping from their open mouths, turned, those from the Eighth Bridge spoke rapidly, a jumble of discordant words pitching high and low, turned, two busloads stood in front of her, statue-like, all eyes to the sky, grins fixed wide, turned, the woman who pushed past her held a kitchen knife, turned, the gossiping girls, shiny, bright cleavers, Nick, a glowing hatchet, Miranda, a fiery sword, Craig, a wailing chainsaw, turned, turned, turned and howled as she fell.
They took their time dismembering her.
Flames blazed in the space normally reserved for cloud. She fell from the sky and landed on a rocky, red hot mountain side. There was a shimmering in the near distance; it was not so far that she couldn’t walk. It was a heavenly ice blue, soothing, rippling joy; she hadn’t been able to find cool, refreshing water in a millennia. She forced herself to her unsteady feet and jerked her head up and down, to the sides, behind, no-one emerged to attack or steal the precious nectar pooled just ahead of her. She sprinted anyway, closing in on the liquid life.
Ahead of her was a field of dew laden green grass. Where was the pool of water? It didn’t matter. She laughed with glee. There was water on grass. She could roll in it. Revel in it. She ran joyously onto the field. Each one of the slim green blades was a burning sliver of glass. She was lacerated every time she lowered a foot, but forced herself on; her face wet with tears, for there was a cool, shady forest just ahead of her, a few small steps was all that was needed. Out of breath, her feet shredded, in excruciating pain, she leant against a tree trunk. It was made of white hot iron. Her hand was vaporised. A searing wind picked up, the autumn leaves fell from the glowing branches, ripping her body apart. She fell to her knees and looked up. There was a cool shimmering, off in the far distance. It was a divine ice blue. A divine ice blue.
She landed on an ice shelf, naked, enveloped by a raging, freezing blizzard. Her eyes would not focus, she didn’t need vision, for she sensed the suffering of the countless surrounding her. She managed to raise herself up and stand hunched, as her body was battered. Her joints seized. Ice formed over her mouth, her nose and her eyes. She froze solid. The screaming wind tipped her over and she shattered into a million glittering, tinkling pieces. She landed on an ice shelf, naked, enveloped by a blizzard.
She could taste wood though she had no tongue. She could hear a low drone though she had no ears. She desperately tried to take form though it was impossible. She was pitch-darkness. An explosion tore through her as a door was slammed. She screamed though she had no vocal chords. Her breathing raced though she could not feel lungs expanding and contracting. Another booming roar tore into her as the door was slammed again and again, her cells lit with agony.
The hammer connected with the anvil. She burned as the red hot metal blazed into her formless back. Deafened as the clang, clang, clang of metal connecting with metal ripped through her. The anvil was struck over and over.
She was roasted as the jet engine fired up.
She was smothered as she was sucked through the sewer.
She was trapped in a rock, frozen in ice, boiled, beaten and burnt.
It all stopped.
An aeon had passed.
Raging red and black storm clouds flew overhead at a fearful pace. Tia Green stood up straight, her arms were loose by her sides, as she looked up at the leaden sky. An unnerving sensation coolly washed through her from her crown to the soles of her feet. It was a feeling she vaguely recognised from a deep and distant memory, though she was not really sure the impression belonged to her. She hunted her for a word, something to describe it, to give life to the strangeness that lit her. And then it became obvious: it was ‘ease’ that had settled. The cloud began to clear, to rush off into the distance and dissolve.
She looked up into a crystal clear, blue morning sky, stood in a field of soft, damp green grass, as an array of colourful birds began to sing joyous songs. She took in a long breath, her lungs filled with fresh, spring-like air; it was as though she had never experienced oxygen before. There was a light breeze that played on the skin, and a bright, comforting sun that bathed her in soothing golden light.
There was no pain.
She looked down at herself and the thin, full length white gown that clothed her. She was barefoot. The field of grass was visible through her feet. She turned and twisted her translucent hand through the air. There was no panic, for it seemed quite natural.
She pulled a few strands of straight, brown hair before her eyes, ran hands over her full frame, then over her thin lips and undefined cheek bones. Another long forgotten sensation entered her mind: relief.
She closed her eyes and listened. Her thoughts and emotions were quiet, still, a perfect flat calm. It was bliss to be pervaded by such pure, unabashed contentment. It was as if she had stumbled upon the most precious gift the universe had to offer.
She opened her eyes. Stood before her was blonde, lithe, green eyed Tia. The seductive, pretty woman was a motionless mannequin clothed in a long white gown. She slowly circled herself and lightly ran fingers through her fine hair. If it hadn’t been attached to her sensuous figure and its slim proportions, her immaculate hair might as well be just a mass of yellow spaghetti. She looked into her shining eyes. Would her flawless face be so attractive without her lush lips, her high cheek bones, sharp green eyes and freckles? When the elements came together in a pleasant and acceptable fashion, they formed this woman. And when they dispersed?
Svelte Tia aged fifty years in seconds. From the peak of physical perfection, she became a stooped, wrinkled old lady whose dry skin hung from brittle bones. As she died and crumbled to dust, a gurgling baby appeared at her feet, struggling in the grass. The child grew into an awkward girl, a confident woman at the height of her powers, then old and dead.
Her fame came and went. Her riches were built up and scattered. Her desire and anger flared, and just as quickly, like waves upon a stormy ocean, the emotions subsided.
She could not bear to sink below the surface again. Her smile was faint, she was cleansed and grateful, and now, she had to let her go.
“Goodbye, my sweet,” she said, her words were kind and without sadness.
She kissed her softly on the cheek, turned around, and walked away across the damp, manicured grass that tickled her feet and played between her toes. It was a wonderful, unrivalled luxury to feel such softness beneath her feet. She could walk on it for weeks and not tire of it, alive and thankful for its serene touch.
There was a broad oak tree ahead of her. It was an ancient, great grandfather with a steadfast trunk and long branches that cast a tall and wide canopy of rich leaves. She stood before it, humbled by its grandeur, and let her focus soften and rest on a single leaf and the droplet of clear water that lay motionless at its centre. She looked closely at the thin, elegant branch it had sprung from. Her brow creased, as she realised that without the branch the leaf could not exist.
She stood back, puzzled, and looked at the tree trunk. Without the trunk the branches would have no support. She looked to the rich earth at the base of the tree, without the earth the tree would have nowhere for its roots to take hold. Without the soil from below, the refreshing rain from above and the heat and light of the glowing sun from afar, the tree would not receive the nourishment it needed to stay alive. Without space, the tiny earth, its home star, and the myriad of glittering galaxies and glorious nebulas, would have no place to exist; the universe would have no canvas. And without her mind supported by her body, she would not see the tree.
She smiled warmly and walked to an expansive river, drawn to the placid flow of the majestic body of wide water. By her feet was a small, round, flat stone. She picked it up and gently threw it. It skimmed across the surface once, twice, three times and then sank. Ripples emanated outwards.
Pure, naked horror pulsed through her being from her heart outward. She fell to her knees, and as her tears flowed and splashed freely in the water, her body shook uncontrollably and she roared in pain. She gripped her wet face, unable to control the howling anguish, nor wishing even to try.
She had toyed with and gunned down the woman who had pushed passed her. Tia instantly became the woman, and lived her ordeal through her eyes, absorbed the pain as she felt it tear into her, not once, but over and over. She became Michael and felt the overwhelming fear that raced through his veins before being shot, again and again. She became Nick, was consumed by anguish, then shot over and over, then lived as Craig, then Miranda, then as every single one of the Tialanders she had abused, as every person she had massacred in the city, she experienced again and again every micro second of terrifying suffering she had unleashed.
Remorse overtook her.
Grief consumed her.
And she begged forgiveness.
A further aeon passed, as she sat by the bank of the river and filled it with tears day and night.
Then, one day, she fell back on her heels, her arms hung loose, her hands lay in the grass, her palms faced the sky. She swore never to hurt another being, no matter what happened to her and no matter what others said or did to her.
She opened her eyes and looked to the sky.
“May I die so they may not suffer.”
Tia dissolved.
She took no form for there was no longer a need. Thought and emotion were no longer necessary. She was simply aware. Cool and warm, resting in light, pure joy, enveloped by love, emanating love, naturally, without effort. She was wisdom itself, everywhere and nowhere, beyond time and existence.
Yet, she still knew of suffering.
She stood on a deserted, rain soaked footpath and looked to her left and right. The road ahead was near her flat, it was the one that led to the train station. In the middle of it was a woman who was howling with laugher. A moment later, she slumped to the ground, curled up into a tight ball and sobbed.
Overwhelming compassion flowed for her, and as she saw herself slowly sit up, she found her mind to be still, as though she were a blank sheet of paper, the future suddenly open to endless possibility.
As she watched herself begin to stand, a car raced around the corner.
“No,” she shouted.
Tia was killed instantly.
She sprinted out into the road as the car skidded to a stop, its breaks screeching. She fell to her knees by herself, her arms and legs were splayed, her eyes wide open and glassy, and blood pooled generously in the road from the back of her head.
“I didn’t see her,” the driver yelled at his passenger, as he rushed toward the dead body.
“How many times have I told you to slow down?” the passenger screamed.
“Just call an ambulance, will you,” the driver shouted.
She forced herself to her feet and stood in the hammering rain in the middle of the street. The driver, passenger and car dissolved. There was no-one around, there was no wind and no sound. The rain stopped. The sun came out. The birds began to sing.
A shadow rose up, stood out of the dead body and formed into a woman wearing business clothes who bolted for the footpath, her cheeks glowed red, her head hung low. As she trudged toward the train station, she discreetly followed and listened to her teeth as they chattered and her feet as they squelched.
She had the freedom to create and do whatever she pleased, the freedom to return and remain in all pervasive peace, and the freedom to let herself continue alone on the journey to work. Considered reflection was not needed, for abandonment was not possible. She stepped forward and became one with herself.
Tia walked into the train station’s coffee shop.
~
