The Breath

It’s the smell that hits you. That’s the thing that gets you first. You know you’ve found it when that smell comes from out of nowhere and batters you with an eye watering, full frontal assault. 

I’d found my way to the coast and I was transported back to my childhood as I spotted the sea. I saw it first. That was the game. Whoever saw it first was the winner. My memory-journey to happier times was complete as the aroma of the sea gently teased my nose, urging me to smile in the exact same way that I had when I was a little boy. There is magic in the meeting of sea and land. I miss it.

Leaving the warm and kind embrace of the beach was made all the more difficult by the stench wafting out from inside the pipe I was intent on climbing into. As far as I was aware, the pipe was the only option, and so I drew in one last clean breath of the salty air and stepped into the confines of the concrete sewerage pipe, careful to point the torchlight ahead and avoid highlighting the savage stream of sewage itself.

Gaining access to the pipe was relatively easy. The end of the pipe had been severed completely away leaving the opening looking like a giant Christmas cracker. The discarded end of the pipe lay ten yards along the rock face. It was shattered and the iron grill that prevented entry was twisted out of shape. The locals blamed a bad storm that hit this piece of coast violently three weeks back.

I knew different.

There was nothing I could do about the cloying stench that came at me as the turgid stream flowed over my boots. If anything, it got worse as I went deeper inside the pipe. Awful brown liquid mercury poisoning me more and more as it flowed over me and into me. I defy anyone not to think of the smell of human faeces entering their system as they wade through a river of it. That smell is invasive and I couldn’t help thinking of it contaminating me. My blood turning brown and entering my heart. My lungs drawing in more and more of the invisible mist until it visibly coated them. I swore that my eyes were developing a filter that was far from rose tinted. A person could go mad in a place like this.

The option to cover my nose was not afforded to me in the circumstances. I needed my sense of smell most of all. To remove that sense would be a fatal folly. Besides, I was excited about the prospect of my discovery. For more than a decade I had devoted myself to the pursuit of this creature and now I had a solid lead. The torn and desecrated mouth of this pipe told me everything I needed to know.

I was close.

It was close.

Our meeting was assured.

I rounded a bend in the sewerage pipe and any doubt or caution applied to hope was instantly dispelled. I froze and I froze so thoroughly that I did not even dare to breathe. I held my breath for an age as I processed what it was that I was feeling and the feeling was entirely olfactory. 

It was here and everything I had read about its scent was true. That it could overpower the stench of human waste amazed me. And as my proximity to the creature sunk in, I dared to breathe again. My very first breath was a stifled sob. I was suddenly deliriously and exhaustingly happy. Happy with the smell assailing my nostrils. I could have stopped there. The smell alone was enough. The smell proved me right and it was more than enough to satisfy me.

Seeing is believing though and I just had to see it. I had to see the object of my desire and I had to capture its image to prove to the world that I was not, and never had been a madman. I was different was all. Better than the rest.

You will note that I have yet to describe the scent of the creature. It is, as you will imagine, reminiscent of fire. I fancied that the hairs in my nostrils were singed away, but there was no noticeable increase in temperature. That would come soon enough as I approached the slumbering beast. The creature smelt of fire and heat and there was an undertow of burnt meat. None of this was a surprise. The only surprise was that I had at last arrived at my destination after many a long year.

Carefully, quietly and slowly, I progressed deeper into the tunnel. Then I stopped and silently berated myself as I turned the torch off. That circle of light could well have led to my downfall as I announced my presence to the most dangerous of beings.

I waded slowly in the dark toward my objective, wincing at the sound my boots made as they ploughed through the slurry. Barely breathing in order to stay as quiet as I possibly could. I could feel my fear, even through the excitement of the occasion. This was the most dangerous of situations and few would continue forth if they had but an inkling of what lay ahead.

Now the temperature was rising and the smell seemed heightened. It was like thrusting an open chilli sauce bottle in each nostril, but even more pungent than the results of such a ridiculous venture.

I could sense the creature’s presence now and so I clumsily reached into my jeans pocket to retrieve my phone. The screen came on automatically, but thankfully cast very little light. I swiped the screen so that the camera was enabled. All the while I was shuffling through the stream of effluent and hoping that I was charting a course down the centre of the pipe, such was my disorientation in the darkness. 

Undoing my coat made little difference to my discomfort. The heat was now building and in the confined space of the pipe the humidity was stifling. My breathing was laboured and I was sweating profusely. Mopping my brow, I carried on forward, albeit even more slowly. I must be close now, almost on top of the creature.

In my mind’s eye I could already see it. The bright yellow eyes with the striking vertical slit. If eyes were the window to the soul then this being was a world away from dull human beings. The crocodilian face with huge teeth that could crush a building, let alone a grown man. And then there were the iridescent scales. The schoolboy in me wondered what colour this specimen would be. He hoped it would be a lustrous red. That the hide of the creature would look like many pieces of a knight’s armour and that it would shine and sparkle, the light rippling across it creating the illusion of movement even when it was at rest.

Then there was the fabled treasure. Huge magpies with a life span of centuries, they accumulated a vast nest of shiny and rare items and guarded it jealously and very effectively. And here was me, walking right into the lion’s den, only this creature dwarfed a mere lion and was infinitely more fearsome.

Knowing that I had come too far to turn back now. That if anything, a retreat would signal not only my failure but my doom, I ventured on. This was not to say that I was brave and bold. I was dismayed to discover that my hands were shaking like leaves and upon that discovery I had to fight to stifle a sob of terror. My insides were liquid and that liquid was on the move. It was all I could do to hold myself together. 

They say that your gut has an intelligence all of its own, that it can affect your thinking. Mine had turned on me and was betraying me with a vehemence I had never before experienced. I was in turmoil and I would have fled if I was not locked into my current course of action with a fear that disabled my brain with chaos and drowned any surviving coherent thought out with silent screams of anguish.

Still I went forth, and still there was no sign of the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, nor the beast that guarded that gold and ended the life of any and every intrepid adventurer so that no one ever returned from that mythical place.

Just one sight of the one thing I had dreamed of and fixated upon so entirely that there was nothing else. I had sacrificed everything for this moment. 

This.

This was all that mattered to me.

I had to be right.

I was right.

I would prove them all wrong.

And then they would be sorry.

Sorry for giving up on me and deriding me. Sorry for all the recriminations and name calling. Sorry for not believing in me. Sorry for not accepting that I was always right.

Was it too much to ask? To have just one person believe in me? Surely I deserved that. Aren’t we supposed to be born into a loving world? A loving mother to nurture us. A doting father to guide us. 

A world without love is a cruel and hostile place. That’s why I had to find my dragon. That’s why I had to go on this quest. But I’m not going to fight my dragon. I’m not a fighter. A lover is what I want to be. And I want so dearly to be loved.

Dragons are wise.

This dragon will know. He’ll understand. That’s all we really want in this life, to be loved and have someone who will listen to us and at least try to understand. My dragon will understand, and then the rest will be up to him. I will leave that part to him. My quest will be at an end and I will be fulfilled. Come what may.

These thoughts come unbidden and I marvel at how swiftly the clouds of chaos have cleared. I am calm now. Resigned to my fate. I am at peace and I am at last ready. I smile, glad that I have achieved this state. It would have shamed me to encounter the dragon in a state of blind fear and stupidity inducing chaos.

I smile, and I feel like it is already done. 

Hello Barry.

A voice. But I don’t think I heard it. I think the words occurred in my mind. If they were self-generated then I would fear for my sanity. Then again, if I was insane then I’d be in denial and in that case, these words could be mine after all. One thing is for certain, I was not expecting this. Could dragon’s be telepaths? 

Dragon? Is that what you think I am?

A wave of uncertainty crashes over me. Worse still, I see a tsunami sized wave of disappointment amassing and I am powerless to stop it. Running from it is no longer an option. I expected danger at the end of the path and I also knew there would be a surprise or two, but not this. Never this.

A figure steps forth and reveals himself. I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to tear clumps of my hair out and rake my fingernails down my face. But I am rendered weak and powerless in the face of this revelation.

Cheated! I’ve been cheated and tricked and misled. And it’s all been for nothing. Worse than nothing.

I have so many questions. Too many questions. They jostle and brawl to be the first to be asked and they are so violent and unruly that the process of speaking breaks down and all I can do is shake my head. Slowly at first, but then I build a momentum and a single word is dislodged.

“No!”

He nods and smiles a smile that has a complete absence of warmth. That smile is so cold it burns.

“I don’t understand!?” I wail.

The smile remains.

Better the devil you know!

“No! This can’t be happening!”

It’s already happened.

“But why?!”

Oh! You know why! You knew this day would come. I mean, you came all this way. You literally went through shit to be here, didn’t you?

“Yes, but I…” I trail off, my words seem strange to me all of a sudden, as though they are no longer real, and I suppose they are not.

You can lie to yourself all you want. You can hide behind denial. But the truth will out. In the end, it all falls down with nothing more than a sneeze or a cough.

“But you’re…”

He nods again.

The Prince of Lies? That qualifies me to spot lies a country mile off. I’m an angel too, you know. A celestial being, doing my job and providing much needed balance in the universe. 

He laughs and the sound of it rings in my ears and in my mind also. There is no fun or jollity to that laugh. It is the laugh of the voyeur as they knit at the foot of the guillotine. 

You’re all the same. However much you think you’re different and special. In fact, people like you are the most basic of the lot. You set yourself apart and reject the world, then you take your revenge against it. You think you’ve made something of yourself. Embraced your inner monster and become something strong and formidable, but you’re a weak and spiteful coward. Nothing more. You sacrificed everything, even your humanity so you could indulge a pathetic fantasy. You never had it in you to live a half-decent life. Couldn’t face being yourself.

He steps closer so I can see him that bit better. It should be pitch black in this pipe, but I see him well. Too well.

And yes, that’s why I’ve appeared in this form. This is the true monster that you came to confront. This is your blessed dragon. Look upon me and despair! The stench of your shame almost overpowers my distinctive aroma. I think I prefer the odour of the stream you’re standing in. A fitting end, don’t you think? And a fitting beginning to your eternal damnation.

It’s the smell that hit me, but I was so far in denial that I even lied about that. The potent and sulphurous aroma of the very devil himself. A smell that is the promise of what is to come.

What really brought it home was when he stepped out of the pitch black and all I saw was myself. The devil brought a mirror to my welcoming party and now I can see what my personal hell will consist of. 

Me.

I was intent on creating hell on earth, and now the devil is going to show me how it’s really done. I told myself that I was searching for a dragon, even as I ran from the police. I’ve done bad things. I’ve burned people and that’s not the worst of it. 

I look into the vacant eyes before me and I can already feel my defences crumbling. I can’t lie anymore. Not to him. He knows. He knows it all and he’s going to hold me to account for every single thing I have done.

People like you make it far too easy.

The words are whispers in my mind. 

He will subject me to every single bad thing I ever did and I will be defenceless. I never once cared. Not about those people I hurt or the consequences. I set myself apart and I pretended I was a dragon.

I pretended.

All of it was a tragic pretence. I snuck up on my victim’s blindside, whispered sweet nothings in their ear and then I stole everything I could from them. A modern day vampire who didn’t even bother selling his soul to the devil, choosing instead to sacrifice it on the altar of his own self-pity and self-loathing.

But then, how can I talk about a self, when I never had the courage to be myself. I stunted myself so totally that I am not even capable of being selfish. I don’t know what I am, let alone who I am. That’s why I can’t bear to look at myself. I didn’t recognise the man in the mirror, but I do recognise the figure before me.

His eyes cease mirroring mine. They light up with a yellow glow and the black vertical shape in the midst of that sea of yellow pulses. Then I begin to understand what is in store for me. You see, the devil is better at this than I ever was. I was barely an amateur. 

I see the truth of it now. I was a pale imitation of the devil, but I was never anything more than a weak and cowardly man callously taking a pathetic revenge on a world that I thought owed me more than it had ever given me. I wasn’t just the same as the people around me. I was worse. I gave up and squandered the life that was gifted to me.

The Beast standing before me? He really is different. He’s special. He’s the real deal.

He nods.

I’m going to show you how it’s really done, Barry. Over and over and over…

That’s when I scream.

I scream and he casually reaches out and places his right hand atop my head and then he pushes downwards. He pushes down and the solid floor beneath my feet dissolves. And so I descend and I descend through a river of shit. Human shit. I’m drowning in it.

It’s the least I deserve.

And it’s a gentle start to my eternity of torment.