Facing the fight, oh, and the monsters too

There was once a young child playing out in a field one day when they stumbled across a trapdoor. Only the handle was sticking out and with a kick of dust and multiple pulls from the skinny little arms it finally cracked open.

It tore through the roots and the small child couldn’t help but to think that it was opening all too slowly. Faster faster faster! The mind racing, the arms straining, the door creaking until it finally opened. 

Inside was the epitome of imagination. A whole new world to be explored lay beyond the small wooden frame, it held creatures that put Narnia to shame, monsters more terrible and awesome than any nightmare, heroes, villains, whatever the child desired, the trapdoor seemed to contain.

So of course, the child jumped in. It was everything they could have wanted. 

There was the mysterious wizard in a funny hat to give them a quest. There was the king, granting a sword and knighthood for this courageous hero. There was the band of witty sidekicks to turn a boring journey into an epic tale. It came and went faster than the small child could have ever thought possible.

At the end of the quest the child returned home, through the trapdoor, and back to their parents to tell of their great accomplishments and deeds. They were welcomed and congratulated as a hero should be.

The not so small child went back to the trapdoor whenever a new quest awaited them, fulfilling it valiantly. Story after story was told in that magical land of the many quests of the brave hero from another world, one such story was of one of their adventures through a dark forest and to the hut of a nasty old sorceress with more warts than teeth. There the hero bravely retrieved a forbidden book of spells, but didn’t escape unscathed. As they were leaving, the witch uttered a nasty curse, one of darkness and confusion. 

“Rest happily and you may find an enveloping darkness seeking after you. Rest weary and you may find the same. Choose a path and it will cause you to doubt. Whispers in the night and in your sleep. It will haunt you always.”

The not so small child stomped out anyway, they were the hero, they were undefeated, a silly curse wouldn’t stop them, only hinder them a little before they rose triumphant like any good hero would. 

The adventures continued as the now big child grew. Riddles they faced with a brilliant show of intellect until one day, a sphinx stopped them in their tracks. A riddle so complex and confusing, it seemed to have no answer. The hero certainly couldn’t think of one and neither could any of their quirky band of sidekicks. Only after going back through the trapdoor and asking their parents did they finally understand the answer. They returned radiant the next day, excited to show off their knowledge.

The sphinxes became smarter, the puzzles more intense and the hero started to enjoy them less and less.

The monsters, once so wondrous, mysterious and awe-inspiring, were starting to lose their feeble fangs and claws. Instead they came with swords on their fingers and knives in their mouths with skin seemingly made of the toughest shields. They didn’t wait for the hero to come fight them but instead chose to come to the hero. Those were tricky because if you didn’t think you could win, you had to run. 

Sometimes they still chased you and you’d have to fight. The hero kept on winning, for now.

There came a day when the child, now grown, lay in their house by the field. They knew they had a quest the people wanted them to do. They knew a monster lay in wait, hidden behind riddles and confusing paths. They knew that the witch's curse had full effect on them now, blinding and confusing them. What was right? What was wrong? Was it wrong for the child not to go even though they knew the people depended on them? Was it wrong for the people to continually depend on a hero and not solve things for themselves? Why did the monsters have to be so strong and tough to beat? Why did the riddles have to get more obscure and seemingly pointless each time? Why? Why? Why? A common question. One that was wonderful as a child and yet has now grown daunting.

A knock at the window, it was the hero's sidekick, the archer. Out of the merry band of many, only few remained. The archer had been loyal since day one with their wise words and keen eye. The slight-handed rouge was the only other of the original band, with their shifty eyes and all too easy lies. The hero sometimes wondered why they were still there, even if they were grateful for the companionship.

The archer motioned for them to come along. A monster needed to be slain! The hero sighed under the curse of darkness, unable to get themselves to move. The archer didn’t give up and invited themselves inside. A short conversation with the heroes parents and they finally motivated the hero enough to move, to grab their sword and shield and start marching towards the trapdoor, laying in wait in the field.

Once more, a passage through that magical trapdoor. No wonder or excitement lay on the other side for the hero. 

It was fear.

The monsters lay in wait to bruise, harm, and terrify -and when the body was black, blue and bleeding, the sphinxes and their dastardly deceitful riddles tore at and confused the mind until it had the hero doubting even the most simple of answers. 

It was terrifying.

The king and his people lay in wait to give and praise and celebrate the hero of their making. Always another quest, always another problem, always asking for something and giving little in return. The wizard was always there with wise words, the king with grand speeches and the people with kind compliments. It was too much.

It was painful.

The hero tore away from their parents, away from the watchful archer and the sneaky rouge. They ran back to the the field, the darkness of the curse right behind them, tripping them up, whispering the wrong paths, causing them to run blindly through the field, unable to find the trapdoor.

After searching, not once or twice, but four times. The hero sat down in the field, defeated. They decided they were no longer a hero, those didn’t run and hide, they stood and fought, like the archer, like the rouge, like their parents. They were a coward who didn’t want any more monsters, riddles or quests. They wanted the trapdoor.

Parents and friends found the hero in the field and sat with them for a time. Small talk led to sharing of stories. 

The archer told of the curse of fear an evil wizard had gave him a long time ago. 

The rouge told of their cowardice, how they had learned how to sneak, hide and steal so they wouldn’t have to take quests from the king or his people.

The parents told of their own trapdoors and the day they disappeared. Of their own monsters and riddles and quests and curses. They still had plenty of those.

The Hero stood with the aid of friends, if the rouge had did it alone, they certainly could do it with friends and family surrounding them. Despite the fear, terror and pain awaiting them, the hero started marching on towards their next quest.

The hero, now fully grown, now stood in front of their next monster. It was a ferocious beast that others had fought and not all had defeated. Applying to a college had struck many down and even those who had survived had a seemingly endless army of sphinxes and their riddles to face.

Another monster lurked by. This one liked to always linger and remind the hero that it was still there, even if it didn’t attack. When it did, it was vicious, quick and often left the hero wounded. Dating did always seem to strike at the wrong time.

Monster after monster, the hero's journey was full of them, each defeated brought a reward -sometimes small, sometimes great. But the hero fought on.

Even in the quiet moments, the curse never left. The darkness would return, confuse and mislead. Despite having a therapist for the depression, it never did fully go away. It was beaten back and the Hero was given light to guide them through but some of it always lingered in wait.

The rouge and the archer had their own battles to fight and the hero would rise up to those as well. The parents continued to guide them through. The quests kept coming, the monsters never stopped and the riddles would not end. The fear, the terror and the pain didn’t leave. None of them would so it was up to the hero to rise up and, despite all that would oppose them, be brave in the face of anything that stood in their way.

Bravery was never not required to fight a monster, solve a riddle or accept a quest. Sometimes all you have to do is muster it together and choose to walk forward, step after step, through your first job, to fight a vicious monster, or even, through a trapdoor.

That’s what the hero did.