The Steps

I sit on the steps, with my head against the door. Someone in an apartment above me is watering their plants; I watch the overspilling drops create a pool at my feet and think back on what led me here, to be sitting outside my own apartment, hoping that someone will open the door. With no phone, and no money, all I can do is sit there and wallow in my misery, reliving every awful moment.

My bag had been stolen in an instant. I had put it down while I ate my lunch and then I had seen a dog, and then I filled my water canteen, and then it was gone. Stupid. Stupid, avoidable mistakes. Nothing had happened to Blanca’s, of course, which was good, really it was, because she could help me, but it was also terrible because it confirmed what I had long feared.

“Bad things happen in threes,” Blanca had assured me. “Your purse was stolen,” She had then counted all of my miserable failures on her fingers. “You lost your watch, and you broke your phone… It's nearly more than three, if you count everything in your purse,” she pondered before she smiled brightly, “so you’re definitely allotted a couple of karmic events in your favour.

“I was fired yesterday.”

“Oh.”

“What does this mean for my karmic favours?” I had asked, unfortunately unable to keep the sarcasm from my tone.

“Look, it’s going to be ok; everything is going to be just fine. If anyone can get through this, it’s you. In fact, you know what?” she roots in her purse, before producing a green rock. “Take this. It’s called Malachite, and it strengthens the power of manifestation.”

She had mistaken my disdainful silence as an invitation to continue talking, she had leaned closer to slip the rock in my pocket and lowered her voice to a whisper, as if to prevent others from sharing in the secret covenant.

“I used this crystal and spoke my dreams into the universe. I harnessed the power of positive thought and look where it got me: I have my dream job, I met my boyfriend there, and I now have enough money with the pay raise to get a new apartment. This crystal brought me love and riches and it can do the same for you, you just have to believe!”

I wish I could see life in the same way as her, guided by some unknown karmic forces and magical crystals. It would be much easier to avoid blaming myself. Alas, magic belongs in stories and films, not in the real world.

“I can’t do this right now; can we skip to the end of this conversation? Yes, yes, everything will be fine; the universe has a plan, I will manifest happiness, so on and so forth. Everything is brilliant, ponies, rainbows etc.” I wince at the memory of her eyes widening and filling with tears; my heart still aches knowing that my words had managed to hurt. She had only been trying to help, but her words had just felt so sweet and distinctly artificial. “Look, I’m sorry I know that, stuff like that works for you, and that’s great, but the world is just awful sometimes, and recently its awfulness can be directly attributed to me and my actions, so no, I don’t think happy thoughts will work. I just need some space.”

“Ok.” She forced a smile to her face. “Feel better soon.” Each word sounded forced.

The dripping of the water has slowed.

A couple comes to the door, arms laden with shopping, conversing between themselves, smiling.

“Thank you,” I say to no one in particular and follow them inside.

The couple takes the lift, so I take the stairs. I take in the sight of the stairs as I walk up to my apartment. Parts of the bannister are falling apart and chunks of the wall are missing; layers of paint peel from the walls in strips and reveal older, more faded colours and cement. I reach my door, punch the code in the keypad, and let myself in.

I pour some wine into a large mug and decide, that some leftover cheese and stale crackers will do for dinner. It hits me that I have nothing. No access to money, and not much in the account if I did, no job so no more money coming. No keys, so leaving the apartment isn't really an option. With no phone to distract me from my thoughts, my thoughts wander to what I could have done to prevent myself from being in this position. Nothing good can come of this tortuous introspection, but I indulge myself nonetheless.

It’s good to feel something, even if it is pain.

A yawning pit of merciless darkness awakens in my chest as I enumerate and evaluate the countless ways I could have been better, done better or chosen better.

By the time I surface from the pit of negative thoughts, I find the kitchen plunged into darkness, I turn on the light and find a notebook and pen. The least I can do is make a plan.

Capture

It was too late to change anything by the time the brave Knight realised that he was surrounded. They stripped him of his armour and took his sword. He watched helplessly, as they took away his once prized possessions. Knowing that he had let down his kingdom crushed the heart of the brave Knight. It felt as if a wyvern was attempting to escape from his chest, claws ferociously tearing flesh from bone. It was difficult for him to breathe, but the brave Knight kept his chin high as his hands and feet were bound and he was escorted to a prison wagon.

The Knight stared aimlessly as the wagon trundled along, he could only hope that this nightmare would end and that he would wake up in his chambers with his love, holding him.

Grey light

I awake in darkness; my windowless bedroom hides the sunlight from me, giving me no indication of the time. I fumble for the light switch and the fluorescent lights temporarily blind me. The full-length mirror leaning against the wall reveals that I am still in the clothes from last night. The purple floral dress, which I had once adored, that I had once believed made me beautiful, now only serves to highlight my unkempt state and red eyes. Akin to the mirror, the revelations of the clock are disparaging in its cruel revelation of the time; quarter past four. Then I laugh, a horrible bitter sound. I realise that it doesn't matter if it’s four in the morning or the afternoon, I’m not late for anything. I have no job, no plans, and I pushed my only friend away.

I stumble blearily into the kitchen, which is bathed in a greyish light. My apartment, located, as it is on the bottom floor, on a narrow street does not permit sun rays, but only grey light. The fluorescent lights offer more clarity but are too punishing, so I opt for the half light. I clean the dishes from the night before and search for something to eat. The familiar routine lulls me into a strange calmness; it’s like the ghost of habits takes over my body. I watch as my hands deftly slice an apple, make porridge, and a pot of coffee. The hands feed the body and clean the kitchen. Incredible. I don’t care.

The hands decide to tidy the bedroom and find the crystal. The hands take the crystal from my jacket pocket, set it on the desk and shine a lamp on it.

Green, white, sage, emerald, opaque, rough, uneven.

It’s like my brain neglects to even think in full sentences, and its observations are reduced to a string of adjectives. I diligently copy the words into a notebook, just so I have something to do.

Forza

The Knight is locked in a small prison and left to be isolated. He knows that they will soon come for him; they left him food and water. Enough for two weeks. He makes a meal from a hunk of bread and a lump of cheese and finds a bed roll in the corner of the room. He lies down, and staring at the ceiling, plots how he will win back his kingdom. He knows that he must have a plan before they come back, something terrible is certain to happen upon their return. The thought filled him with fear, and the Knight found himself lost in the memories of past trials and combats.

The Knight looked at his hands, speckled with scars of different ages, the rest of his body is much the same, a map of physical remnants from challenges, now overcome.It brings him some comfort to think of the trials that he has survived, no matter how scared he was at the time. Battle scars were seen as trophies, undeniable evidence of strength, survival and glory. None of this would matter to his people when they realised how badly he had let them down.

Giving up

After another night of fitful sleep, I wake to darkness again, hunger, the only motivation for getting up from my bed. For fun, I decide to reminisce on who I used to be. Dissecting the past, and comparing its highlights with the present; a harmless pastime. I used to write for fun when I was younger, I wasn’t a journalist writing hit pieces, not that I am a journalist anymore. I used to write poems, songs, speeches, stories, novels, riddles. I smile thinking of the young girl who couldn't be held back. Although, I changed, presumably for some good reason but I can’t for the life of me think of a reason good enough. I lose myself in my memories and find myself disassociating again and watch my hands prepare a meal.

The food is made and, to eat it, I sit at my desk where the malachite crystal watches me. I wonder when its powers will kick in and save me from this life. To pass the time, I think of where the crystal could be from. Was it a discarded precious stone, that a crown jeweller didn't like, could it have been found and sold by pirates, could it have chipped off from a larger jewel, could it have been guarded preciously by a dragon? Before I know it, my pen and notebook are in my hand.

The Crux

The Knight makes a small meal from the rations left in the dungeon, and looks through the barred window, yearning for sunlight. He should be able to get out of here, known for his bravery, strength and his clever judgement, he couldn’t let it end like this, in a dungeon, hidden from this sun, far from his friend and family, from his love.

The brave Knight didn’t feel so brave without his armour and sword and and all at once he felt the full gravity of the situation, the hopelessness of it all and he fell to his knees. Unable to look out the barred window anymore, he held his heavy head in his hands.

He didn’t try to stop the hot tears that raced down his face. His shoulders began to shake as he wept. He cried for all of the people who he missed, he cried for his enemies, sorrowful that they felt the need to act the way they did, he wept for his younger self, the boy who could never have imagined the cruel reality of the world. Breathing became difficult, my chest feels too small, the room seems to be getting smaller, I can't breathe fast enough, my head starts to feel light. I feel the pressure on my chest again, this is it, I’m going to die here. My vision darkens, desperately I sit back to try and open my chest and to try and take in some air.

NO. STOP.

This isn’t my life. This is not, this can’t be real. I.. I’m not the brave Knight. I try to focus on what I can feel. My uncomfortable desk chair, not the straw on a dungeon floor. I.. I’m in my apartment. I focus on what I can smell, lavender air freshener. I squeeze my eyes closed tight and when I open them, I’m in my room at my desk, my pen clutched tightly in one hand. The Malachite crystal, or whatever it is, seems to glimmer maliciously. I drop the pen and stumble into the kitchen and lean against the counter as I fill a tall glass of water. I drink greedily from it and try to centre myself in this reality, my reality. I drink until I know that I can stand without falling over, however my hands still shake as I walk back over to my desk.

After recovering from my hallucination or dream and eating dinner, I decide that the best way to move on from the ordeal is to free the brave Knight. I’d done this before, created characters and put them through my own trials and tribulations.I used him to take my pain and shame when I wasn’t strong enough, but never before had a character felt so real, so lifelike. It must have been the crystal, so the second thing I had to do was to return the crystals to Blanca. Then, it was time I sorted my own life out. I picked up my pen once more and opened a new page in my notebook.

The Knight’s final chapter

The Knight, blearily opened his eyes, which felt dry and crusty and realised he must have cried himself to sleep. Maybe it wasn’t the worst thing he could have done; he felt as if a fog had lifted from his mind and he was able to think clearly. Invigorated with new energy, he scanned the dungeon, and set his mind to thoughts of escape.

Upon inspection, it was clear that this dungeon was originally used to house people, so it was perhaps built to keep things out rather than to keep people in. He wondered if the first occupants of this place would have hidden a spare key anywhere. Excitedly he searched the small rooms, and eventually found a loose rock at the top of the back wall and lo and behold, behind it was a large iron key.

All was not lost! Hurriedly he rushed to the barred door and slipped the key into the padlock, amazingly it fit. And better yet, through the bars, he believed he could see his sword and armour. The bandits hadn’t taken it! Without hesitating for another second, he twisted the key until he heard it click and swung the door open.

The brave Knight stepped out into the world!

Getting back on track

A somewhat unlikely ending and a tad far fetched, but my brave little Knight was free at last and I feel somewhat lighter myself. I hurriedly pack my bag, my notebook, pen and the crystal. I find an opened packet of biscuits in the kitchen, I pack that too. Today, I will set everything right, I will buy a new phone, collect my new keys from the landlord and of course return the crystal to Blanca. The sooner the better!

I arrive at Blanca’s apartment and buzz her number. Apartment 2B.

“Who’s this?”

“Hi Blanca, it’s me. I want to apologise for everything and give you back your crystal” I pause, hoping that she will forgive me for my previous outburst. “It’s a long story. Coffee? I have biscuits”

“Chocolate biscuits? I’ll buzz you in now!”

I enter the building and as I close the door, I turn to look at the street and can hardly believe my eyes when I see the sun reflecting on an armour clad man.

No it couldn´t be. Surely not. I feel the crystal warming in my pocket.

“What’s taking so long? Are you coming up?” Blanca shouts.

A problem for another day, I think and smile. “Nothing, it's nothing. I´m on my way.”