Stranger than Fiction

“At the end of the world, meet me at the border where the lights fall.“

Even after everything has happened, these are the words that stick in my head. They were loose words, spoken to me amidst the curtains of sleep one night, and yet I hold onto them as if they are a taut rope pulling me to shore. I follow them even though I can’t see the end.

To hold onto something as allusive as a dream when I can’t even remember the feeling of my comforter…

Well, maybe it’s only natural. Besides, I have given up debating whether my feet walk of their own accord, or if it is my heart that is the true leader.

All I know is that I am heading south and…

Maybe I’m a bit relieved. Certainly not that the world is ending, no, but it’s this feeling that for the first time I am walking on a path that is truly my own. A path that has not been touched by the influence of society.

Plus, the world is quieting down. It no longer feels dangerous roaming around alone. Gone are the screams of those being caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Gone are the grasping hands of those desperately trying to cling onto a broken system. And who is left? The romantics? The dreamers? Those that don’t care where they wind up at the end of the day?

“Meet me at the border where the lights fall.”

That’s right, I had a destination now, and I was finally approaching it.

Niagara Falls.

The lights no longer paint the great blanket of falling water before me, but besides that, not much has changed. I shiver. The horseshoe-shaped majesty still invokes the same questions in me. “How many have fallen? How many have you taken in your ruthless avalanche?” I never ask for fear of the sly smile that would be given in response. Standing here now, I know why this place always left me with a chill in my bone. Even when it was a tourist attraction, it seemed to say the same thing, “You can worship me all you want, but when you die, here I will remain, and forget you I will.”

It’s true. I could stand here worshiping these great falls until I wither away, but just then the rope tugs at me again, reminding me that I have not quite reached the end yet.

“At the border…”

I walk until my feet find themselves on the bridge overlooking the falls. This bridge once connected two proud countries, and now it is nothing more than a pigeon shitting dump and the place where I will make my last stand.

My heart starts pounding as I walk on and realize the true lunacy of my actions. Even at the end of humanity, I still believe that “the one” for me is out there. Is this the curse of being a romantic? Or is it….

I stop in my tracks. The rope is pulled at its tightest. At last, I can see the end.

I am pulling myself in now, slowly, slowly, easy does it. Once I get about 10 feet away, my heart stops. My eyes dart wildly as my brain tries to process what it is seeing. The end of my rope is in front of me, and it is hanging off the bridge.

I had lots of thoughts about what I would find when I arrived, and the possibility of finding nothing sure outweighed that of promise, but the thought never occurred that I would get here and find what I was looking for but, just a little too late.

I force myself to breathe steadily as I move in closer, I have to see to confirm it for myself. As I do so, my brain gets even more confused.

Feet, I am looking at feet, and legs hooked around the bar that is meant for hands. The body attached to these legs dangles freely, hands spread open like an upside-down cross. He is dressed in all black as if he is mourning the world, the loose cotton of his shirt hanging delicately onto a solid abdomen. His hair blows in the wind, and his body sways gently from side to side, but other than, that he is completely still

“You can kill me, I don’t care.” He says it without opening his eyes and naturally, I am the one who is startled.

A flutter runs up my body. The breath of the falls is even colder up here, and I can feel my body tensing up as it usually does near heights. I wonder how long he’s been hanging like that.

“What? Why would I want to do that?” Is what I would’ve said on an ordinary day, but everyone who lived through the worst of the apocalypse knew the answer to that. So instead I say, “I would ask if that were even possible, Count Dracula.”

He laughs, it is choked from all the blood rushing to his head, but somehow it is still pleasant. At the sound of it, my nerves jump up in terror. A laugh as warm as that should not be swallowed up by the cold water below. I fight the strong urge to reach out and pull him to safety, he is still just a stranger after all.

“What are you doing?” I spit out.

“Waiting for someone,” he says. He speaks as if he were strolling through a dandelion field and not hanging over a 90-foot drop above water.

“Who?”

“I don’t know. Maybe the grim reaper.”

My cheeks burn with annoyance, he still hasn’t opened his eyes. “If he hasn’t found you like this, I don’t think he’s coming anytime soon.”

“Is that so? Well, then I guess I’ll have to suffer this earth a little while longer.”

He pulls himself up in one quick, easy movement, I don’t even have time to offer my hand to help.

“It’s strange…” he says blinking his eyes as the color from his face rushes back into the rest of his body.

“Everything’s strange. I would even go as far as to say its stranger than fiction…”

His eyes meet mine for the first time, studying the seriousness of my words. After an awkward pause I blush, and he breaks out laughing.

“HA! You clearly didn’t get by this far on your jokes.”

“Maybe I did, maybe the punch line is where I…”

“What? Were you going to say, ‘is where you punched them’?”

“No.”

“You were. You totally were.” he is still laughing, luckily, otherwise I surely would’ve shriveled away.

“Ok fine. Maybe I was.” Through my embarrassment, I can’t help but smile myself. “What is the strange thing you were talking about?”

He looks at me and smiles. “You asked ‘who’ I was waiting for. Almost as if…”

“… as if what?”

“Well, why would you ask that to a complete stranger? Whether I said Jim, or Bella or Carey, it wouldn’t make a difference to you would it?”

“Well, I guess not… but hey! It’s still a normal thing to ask! You could’ve said your brother, or your friend, or…”

He raises a smug eyebrow at me. “Ah, so you’re scoping me out? Or maybe you’re trying to test if I’m really here alone. Look, I told you, you can kill me if you want. I won’t put up a fight.”

“Is that what you want? To die?” I’m not sure why since I understand how he’s feeling, but hearing him talk about death in such a casual way was infuriating.

“Hah, to live in the world of the dead. Is that living or dying?”

“To me, living is living.”

He sighs. “Sorry, I seemed to be getting hopes up about something, please don’t mind me.”

“It’s fine…” We are quiet for a moment, the air passing between us is anything but stagnant.

“So,” he says after a bit, “I hear you’ve got haunted houses or something your side. Is that true?”

“Really? I thought that’s where you came from Count von Count.”

“Though I may not look it, I’m a purebred chicken through and through.” He spreads his arms wide and my eyes can’t help but travel across his long torso.

“Says the man who was just hanging off a bridge.”

He laughs. “You’re right, you caught me. Stunts and life-threatening tricks I can do, but ghosts and goblins, that’s a no-go.”

“Well sorry to break it to you, but the whole world is a haunted house right now. I’m not sure about ghosts, but I’ve definitely met a few goblins along the way.”

He smiles, but his eyes get distant then. “Yea…”

“Seriously though, you’ve never been on this side?”

“Nope, never.”

I shake my head. “Figures. You Americans are so damn patriotic.”

“Is that what it is? Maybe I was scared of beavers.”

“Now look who’s handing out the bad jokes.”

“You’re right, looks like I’ve also lost some social skills along the way.” He winks and holds out a hand. “Devan,” he says.

I shake it. “Hmm…”

“What? Don’t tell me you don’t remember your own name now.”

“No, I’m debating whether I should tell you or make something up.”

“Ouch, and here I thought we were getting along.”

“No, it’s not that it’s just… It feels weird to be carrying around something from an old life when I can be whoever I want now. ”

“Ahh I see,” he nods. “And who would you be, miss mystery girl of the north?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll have to think about it.”

“Well then, while you think shall we go check out some haunted houses?”

“I thought you were waiting for someone.”

“Not anymore, I think I’ve already found her.”