The Mist
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“I’m not sure I can do this,” said the man. He was a tall, thin fellow with long hair and a beard that looked as if it had been cut by an ax rather than scissors or razor blades. “It’s too much like being in prison.”
He sat on one of the benches at the back of the room where he could keep his eyes open to watch what went on around him without having them closed for hours at a time. The other men were all sitting quietly, waiting patiently while their minds drifted off into sleep.
Some slept more easily than others; some woke up every few minutes from dreams they couldn’t remember but knew must have been unpleasant because there wasn’t any way you’d dream about anything pleasant when your mind was shut down so completely.
But most just lay still and let themselves drift away until someone called out: “Wakey-wakey!” And then everyone would sit bolt upright again, rubbing tiredly at their faces before looking round blearily to see who had spoken.
Then they got up slowly—it took quite a bit of effort even though none of these people really needed help getting up anymore since they didn’t need to move anywhere else once inside the mist —and made their way over to join those already standing behind the table where Dr. Flyn waited impatiently for them.
Dr. Flyn was a short man whose face seemed permanently set in lines of disapproval. His nose was hooked slightly upwards which gave him a look of perpetual surprise. It also meant that no matter how hard he tried, he never managed to get rid of the dark circles under his eyes. When he spoke, however, his voice always sounded cheerful enough despite its lack of volume.
“Good morning! How are we feeling today?”
There was silence except for the sound of breathing. No one wanted to be the first to answer such a question. They all felt pretty good actually. Better than they ever did after waking up from a normal night’s sleep.
There was something very comforting about knowing that whatever happened during the day ahead, nothing bad was going to happen to them. Not unless they chose to make it happen themselves. That thought brought another smile to each person’s lips. If only life could always feel this safe and secure…
But then, maybe it should. Maybe things weren’t supposed to change. After all, why bother changing? Why try to improve yourself if everything is perfect anyway? Just stay exactly as you are forever. Never grow old. Always know what tomorrow will bring.
What difference does it make whether you’re happy or miserable? You’ll probably die soon either way. So might as well enjoy the moment instead of worrying about the future. Or trying to find ways to avoid death altogether. Who needs immortality when you’ve got eternity right here and now?
And yet, somehow, the idea of living forever didn’t appeal to anyone present. Even though they hadn’t chosen to come to this place, they found themselves wanting to leave it sooner rather than later. Their lives outside the mist were full of excitement and adventure.
Every day held new challenges and opportunities. New experiences. Things worth fighting for. Worth dying for. This world offered little beyond routine chores and drudgery. Nothing exciting or challenging. Certainly nothing worth risking your life over.
So perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to risk losing theirs. To take chances. Try things they normally avoided doing. Take risks. Live dangerously. See what happens next. Find out what lies hidden beneath the surface of everyday existence. Discover secrets. Uncover mysteries. Solve puzzles. Make discoveries. Break rules.
Do things they shouldn’t do. Go places they haven’t gone before. Meet people they don’t want to meet. Get involved in situations they prefer not to become part of. All of which sounds great, doesn’t it? Except that none of them had done any of those things lately.
In fact, they’d spent years avoiding taking any kind of action whatsoever. Because they knew that once they started moving forward, they’d end up somewhere they didn’t want to go. Somewhere they didn’t belong. Where they’d have to deal with problems they preferred to ignore.
Problems that threatened to destroy their peace of mind. Destroy their sense of security.
They’d learned that lesson many times before. Yet they kept forgetting it whenever they came to this place. For reasons best known to themselves, they decided to forget all about the dangers lurking within the mist. Instead, they focused solely on the benefits.
On the rewards. On the advantages. Which was fine, provided they remembered to think about the disadvantages as well. Otherwise, they risked ending up trapped inside the mist indefinitely. Trapped forever. Unable to escape. Forever alone.
Which brings us back to our original question: Is it better to live safely and securely, or take risks? The truth is, neither choice offers many benefits. Both choices lead to the same result. Death. Either by accident or design. Neither option provides an alternative. At least not one that makes any real difference.
Yet sometimes, I wonder if that isn’t precisely what we choose to believe. We convince ourselves that the safest course of action is to remain motionless. To keep our heads down. Keep quiet. Avoid making waves. Stay out of trouble. Don’t rock the boat. Be careful what you say.
Watch what you do. And most importantly, watch who you talk to. Especially when you’re talking to someone else. Someone you can trust. Like Dr. Flyn. He knows whereof he speaks. Trust me.
I’m sure there must be some other explanation for my sudden bout of insomnia. But at this point, I really couldn’t care less. As long as I manage to fall asleep eventually, I won’t worry too much about finding out what caused it. Besides, I doubt anyone would understand even if I told them.
It’s just another example of how different we are. Of how unique each individual is. A fact that seems lost on everyone around us. Including myself.
***
The sun rose slowly above the horizon. Slowly but surely, its rays crept across the sky until finally reached the topmost branches of the trees surrounding the clearing. Then, like a single beam of light piercing through the darkness, the sunlight illuminated every inch of the forest floor below.
Brightly colored flowers burst into bloom along the edges of the path leading toward the center of town. Birds chirped happily while butterflies fluttered overhead. Bees buzzed busily between flower stalks, collecting nectar for their honeycombs.
Squirrels scampered from tree branch to tree trunk, gathering nuts for winter storage. Deer grazed peacefully among the grasses growing alongside the riverbank. Bears lazed lazily upon the banks of the stream, basking in the warmth of the rising sun. Wolves prowled silently throughout the woods, searching for prey.
Foxes hunted rabbits and mice. Otters swam playfully through the shallows of the lake. Fish darted frantically beneath the water’s surface, hoping to evade capture. Butterflies danced gracefully amongst the wildflowers. Moths flew tirelessly from leaf to leaf, seeking shelter against the harsh glare of the morning sun.
All except one small creature scurrying rapidly away from the bright beams of sunshine streaming through the treetops. Scurry quickly ran swiftly down the hillside, heading directly toward the edge of the forest. His destination lay far behind him, deep within the heart of the mist.
Far enough that no one could see his face clearly. Not unless they happened to look straight ahead, right past the thick foliage covering the ground. Even then, only a few might notice anything unusual. Most likely because they were looking elsewhere.
Or simply weren’t paying attention. After all, why should they bother? They never did before. Why start now?
Scurry stopped abruptly. Stopped dead in his tracks. Stared intently at something lying near the base of a large oak tree. Something covered completely by leaves. Leaves so tightly packed together that they formed almost impenetrable walls.
Walls were designed to prevent anyone from seeing whatever was concealed underneath them. Unless, of course, those people knew exactly where to look. In which case, they wouldn’t need to search very hard. Because everything would become clear immediately. Obvious. Clear as day.
No matter how dark things appeared to be. How murky the waters became. Just follow your instincts. Follow your gut feelings. You’ll know instinctively where to go next. Where to find the answers you seek. That’s what I always tell myself anyway. Sometimes it works.
Other times…not so much. Still, it beats doing nothing. Sitting idly by waiting for fate to decide whether or not she wants to help me. Whether or not she thinks I deserve her assistance. If I had my way, I’d ignore Fate altogether. Ignore Destiny. Ignoring both of them has worked pretty well thus far.
So maybe I should stick with what’s already working instead of trying new approaches. New strategies. Trying to force the issue will probably end badly. Probably more than once. Maybe even twice!
But what if it doesn’t work again? What happens if I fail yet another time? Will I ever learn my lesson? Learn that forcing the situation rarely ends up being beneficial in any way whatsoever. The answer is obvious. Yes. Eventually.
When I’ve learned my final and absolute last and ultimate lesson. One that makes absolutely certain that I don’t make the same mistake over and over again. Until such time as I finally get it right. Right, this second. This minute. Now. Today. Tomorrow. Next week. Month. Year.
Decade. Century. Millennium. Centuries. Millennia. And beyond. Forever. Without exception. Never again. For good. FOREVER!!!
“How can you possibly expect to succeed when you keep making the exact same mistakes?”
That voice echoed loudly inside Scurry’s head. He turned sharply, startled by the sound. Turning, he saw an old man standing nearby. An elderly gentleman dressed in simple clothing consisting primarily of brown leather shoes and pants made from rough-hewn wood.
A long gray beard draped down his chest, hanging loosely around his waist. Long white hair hung freely about his shoulders. Wispy strands of black curled out from under the broad-brimmed hat resting on top of his head. It sat low atop his forehead, shading most of the lower half of his face.
Yet despite the fact that the rest of the world couldn’t see him, Scurry recognized who stood before him instantly. Who spoke those words? Whose eyes glared angrily at him.
“I’m sorry,” said Scurry softly. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
The old man stared back at him without saying a word. Then slowly shook his head. Slowly nodded his approval. Smiled slightly. As though pleased to have been proven correct. Satisfied that Scurry understood just how important it was to listen closely whenever someone else tried speaking to him.
Especially since there wasn’t really anyone else around to hear. Except himself, of course. But that didn’t count. Didn’t change the facts. Did it? Wasn’t he supposed to be listening to everyone? To every single person, he encountered along life’s path? Including strangers like this one?
People whose names and faces remained hidden beneath their own personal veils of anonymity? Were these two individuals truly different from each other? From everybody else? Hadn’t he heard somewhere that they were? That they represented opposite sides of the same coin?
Two halves of the same whole? Opposite but equal parts of the same entity?
The End