The Hand of Death

“Speak now,” I tell the mirrorless reflection before me.

Casting shadows of crooked elbows and broken arms across my body, it gently pulses with a translucent murky white that illuminates the ground in front of me. The light rises and falls with shallow breaths. I see straight through the tattered rags that hang precariously off its shoulders to the swaying forest behind. I'm not scared but my heart increases at the sight of myself. Has my mind finally left sanity's sweet cradle? Or is this a spectre of myself?

“I demand a response,” I whisper forcefully as the corners of my eyes well with tears.

Its eyes glare deep into mine, its line hooked upon my soul, dragging me out into the harsh coldness which seeps outwards from my heart. A whoosh of wings snaps the silence that looms over us. A simple blink and the hallucination is gone. 

Isolation from society has made my mind fantasise and cling to the idea of human interaction. The search for purpose had many destinations but this place is none of them. But did it matter? I needed to get away. Away from the chaos that roamed the cities, crushing those without love under its foot. It came for me; poisoning what I lived for. Taking who I lived for. In doing so I ran with determination from the life that brought me nothing but a crushing weight of burdens and responsibility to find my happiness again. Not that I found it. If anything, all I found is how far the tunnel of darkness in my mind went. Believe me, I had tried to cover it up with a tarp but no matter how hard I hammered the pegs in, some force seemed to pull them out. 

The path forward is a maze of snarling roots with mounds of moss wrapped under the thick blanket of fog. Towering trees fight back the pale grey moonlight. With each step I take, the forest swallows me further into the depths of its gut. The crisp smell of rain on dry soil opens my sinuses, flooding my brain with awareness.

My feet start to move forward with intention and speed as my heart rate accelerates, leaving behind a dust of dread as it slowly clogs my lungs. 

Crack. Screeeee. Bzzz. 

Inhale. 

My pace quickens but finding the next step without tripping across clawing hands is proving difficult at a higher speed.

Exhale.

I’m at a run now and the trees are hissing, reaching out to grab me.

Inhale.

Left, right, left

Exhale.

My foot flies out from under me on the wet moss. My shoulder slams into the ground while dirt and leaves fly up encasing my arms and legs. I wince as I slowly roll to face a clearing in the forest canopy. The pinpricks of light in the black curtain are blaring and my back is taut against the cold floor. The throbs from my shoulder give wave after wave of pain like a red hot poker on my brain. I just need to close my eyes, that's all. Then I would be better.

* * *

I awake to a ferocious light in my eyes. The sunlight rips away the blissful drowsiness, removing its nullifying effect on my pain. I lift my one good arm to caress the other but my hand retreats after feeling the torn jacket caked with blood. 

The world spins with my rising head but I resist the urge to collapse down onto the dewy leaf litter. How long was I out for? Before me, sunlight pierces through the treetops giving new light to the forest. 

A bird darts in between a nearby cluster of bushes and chirps, singing out to its hidden friends. Except… it doesn’t. Again the bird opens its mouth and rustles through fallen leaves but no sound is produced. All I can hear is a soft buzz in the restless air. A hum. This time I feel its presence. Its very being reverberates in my skull, its electricity causing the hairs on my arms to lift. 

“GO AWAY!” I shout with all the energy I can muster even through the pain. “Please, please just leave me alone…” This time my voice is soft and crackles like the leaves under my body. I want to run or hide or fight but my body feels too heavy to stand so I cry.  

“Why are you here?” my voice rings but this time my mouth is closed. 

I raise my head from my chest and see the spectre of myself again, only this time it's more presentable than I am. His sharply shaven face doesn’t match the begrimed beard across my own and it wears the suit I wore to my first job interview. I look down at my ripped trousers, dirt-stained boots, once-white shirt, and an unrecognisable puffer jacket. His brown hair lays in perfectly groomed curls unlike the strands of oily hair that hang limply past my ears. 

“I couldn’t find my purpose. Without it, all that is left is the dark woods I’m in.” Tears start to gather enough weight to trickle down my cheek. How could I let him see me? I’m ashamed of who I am now. I used to be him, with his attention to detail and his pride in presentability. I used to be a citizen who looked out for others. I used to be someone who didn’t care whether they had a purpose or a passion as long as they made someone else's day better. Now all I am is lost and alone. I threw away my life and everyone in it to find myself. The better me. But what I found was the man I used to be. 

“Then leave here.”

“I can’t. I don’t have a reason, a purpose to find the way out.”

“You never used to be here.”

I look out to the silent birds and how they dart and fly and live and how that’s good enough for them.

“She's gone. You have to move on,” he says.

“She’s the reason I’m here,” I growled.

He gazes into my eyes but this time it feels warm and almost comforting. He understands. The pain to have the love of your life dragged away and thrown into Death's cold embrace is unbearable. It’s almost enough to make you find Death itself, to make it hurt as I did. 

“When was the last time you spoke to your brother?” he asks. “Did you know he’s married now? He moved out closer to your parents to keep them company. They all miss you.”

I punch the ground again and again and again until my anger turns to pain. Why would they want to see me after I left them?

“Take my hand.”

Before me, he stands. And before me, I see my family in his eyes. 

Maybe he’s not so bad after all.