The Light over the Black Sea

I opened my mouth trying to utter even the slightest word, but no sound could be heard. I was simply standing still, stripped of my voice. I tried screaming from the top of my lungs, giving it every bit of air I had at my disposal, but to no avail. The heavy silence that seemed to carry the weight of the world forced me to my knees. I was left stranded on the ground, gasping for air. I brought my hands to my throat, desperately trying to relieve the pain caused by my unrewarded efforts to make a sound. I could not give up, I needed to get out. I closed my eyes shut and, as futile as it was, I hopelessly attempted to shout, again, and again. Minutes, hours, it did not matter as long as I freed myself from this silence. But, as time passed, my strength began to fade. I could feel the cold tears rolling from my eyes on my cheeks. I could taste the cool and salty wetness falling down to my chin onto the floor. As despair slowly started to overtake my determination, I surrendered and resigned myself to wait. I wrapped my arms around my own body and buried my face in my lap, trying to fill this never ending void, exhausted.

When I finally gathered the courage to look around, all I could make of my surroundings was infinite darkness. There was nothing left from the constant bustling of New York streets, the endless stream of people on the sidewalk. I was alone with my sole presence at my side. I unsteadily rose back up to my feet, all of my limbs so sore I almost fell over. I made a few wobbly steps to what seemed forward and stopped, unsure. I turned back to look at what was behind me, but nothing more stood out from the black sea I was dropped in. I took a couple more steps in another direction, or did I continue where I was originally headed, I could not tell. I walked for what felt like an eternity. My feet were starting to hurt, my legs to burn, but I followed through. I kept marching, placing one feet after the other, pushing myself towards an unknown destination.

I made some stops along the way. These allowed myself to rest for a while. They allowed myself to think. I tried to figure out how I ended up in this situation, trying to recall the events that led me to this place. My memory was just a blurry mess. I remember my name. Blake, Blake Feldt. I remember being an accountant for one of the leading industries in the society. I am not one of the big shots though, only a regular employee, a replaceable nobody. I remember living in a small flat in the centre of Manhattan. I remember waking up that morning and stubbing my toe when walking up to my kitchen counter. I was running late that day, which was definitely unusual. I pinched my fingers when locking up my door and almost tripped down the flight of stairs. I remember needing to stop a cab because my car was acting up as of late and I could not find the time to book an appointment at my nearby car mechanic’s. I remember having to step out of the cab early due to the rush hour traffic. I usually managed to avoid it, but because I was late that morning, it was at its peak. I remember running frantically on the streets, trying to make my way through the crowd. I had bumped a few people and left them cursing at me. I had spilled someone’s coffee and I had knocked another person’s luggage on the floor. But then I could not picture anything else. My mind was blank, and as much as I tried digging further it only worsened my pre-existent headache. Dragged back to the pitiful reality of my current situation I wondered, how long had I been walking for, how long had I been trapped in this place.

As I continued making my way past through the never ending nothingness, my thoughts suddenly got interrupted by a familiar voice, a calling that was hissing with familiarity. It called me by my name. A name I have not heard in a long time. A name I am not close to forget. Sentinel. It only manifested as a whisper at first, a soft, tame and gentle murmur. However, this was something I could not ignore. Not after what happened. Especially when I was reduced to my current state, constrained and vulnerable. It made me feel uneasy at first, anger soon followed, and then frustration. The feeling of anxiousness was starting to feel overwhelming. The feeling of being watched, of being peered at. I was not alone, and I have never been. The voice became more persistent over-time, it grew impatient. As if it knew the effect it had on me. As if it knew it had my entire being under control, under its grasp. The entity demanded me to surrender, to come back. A call made from a master to its underling. A call that was made to be answered. The calm and empathetic voice that spoke to me was now presenting itself as a hurdle in my mind, like a storm in an already agitated ocean. I grabbed my hair, pulled on it even. I wanted the voice to cease, the calm to prevail. It kept reminding me of the time we spent together, hunting. It emphasised how great we were together, how we were complimenting each other. I had the urge to yell again, I needed it out of my head, I had to make it stop.

I never really adapted well to the society, to living a normal life. This voice was laying out the painful truth in front of me, that it still was everything to me. My past and my torments, my honour and my accomplishments, my success and my downfall. Working a nine to five definitely had its perks, mainly having more free roaming time and drastically less stress. I always thought I had been hired out of pity. My only value was being ridiculously good at mental calculus, and even then, how much was this skill worth in a world equipped with only the best technology you can think of. I came into this world without knowing anything, and with no one at my side. It was the beginning of something else, for the better or for the worse. Some of my old comrades regarded it as an opportunity to start anew, but I saw it as an atonement for my sins. That I had to finally pay for the countless lives I had taken. Therefore, I decided to simply oblige, to adjust to this new lifestyle that was presented to me as my only way forward. It left me feeling tossed out after being given a pretty ornament only good for show. But this became my life, the reality I had to accept. However, some say that time is a miracle doctor. For long, I did not believe those sweet sugar coated words. Besides, idly sitting by whilst time passes is something I knew all too well, and it most often meant someone else’s life was nearing its end. Though this remained my sinister thoughts for as long as I can remember, I was taught that things did not always turn out that way. I was shown that time could slowly heal even the deepest wounds. I was given hope, a faint but existing light that might be guiding me down the right path.

The voice stopped. I was, once again, surrounded by silence. I hesitantly released my clenched fists tightened around my strands of hair. To my surprise, the first thing my eyes laid upon raising my head a little higher, was a faint but steady glow. Its shine was strangely appeasing. It seemed the suffocating veil lingering in the air was being lifted. It appeared as if the dark and heavy gloom hovering in the atmosphere was starting to dissipate. I sighed in relief, I could finally breathe. I looked at the distance that separated me from everything, a glimpse of expectation reflected from my pupils. As I closed my eyes once more, embracing my newly found radiance, I could vaguely distinguish hurried voices all talking over each other. I wondered if they were addressing me. As I worriedly opened my eyes, I found myself seated on the ground with multiple strangers all giving me their careful attention. I looked back and forth, from left to right, facing almost every single unknown face looming over me. I was back on 5th Avenue, but for how long.