It was dark.
That's okay, he thought. That's normal when there's no light.
I'm not being very coherent, he added a moment later.
He tried to stand up, except that there wasn't really any ground to stand on. Just more darkness. But if there's no ground, he thought to himself, who's to say I'm not already standing?
He straightened, or at least imagined himself straightening. Somehow it made him feel better. For lack of anything better to do, he started walking. After a while, he stopped. Why am I doing this? he asked himself. Who am I, anyway?
Tabula Rasa, he thought with conviction a moment later. I am what I know of myself. A moment later, the darkness raced with shadows, an impressive feat without light to cast them. There were trees, leaves, grass, a running spring, blowing in a nonexistent wind. The sound of chimes and laughter silently filled the void, and then flickered to a scene of violence, silent screams, and echoing pain. Suddenly he could smell his own fear, as he was running, in torn clothing, though a forest of starless, moonless night. His pursuers were almost upon him.
No! I did not die there!
He had pulled out of the forest, into open ground. An arrow whizzed by him as he made for the canyon, but his pursuers wore armor, and he wore his rags and adrenaline. I run from one enemy to another...
They were so surprised when he came tearing around the corner almost straight into their camp that they just stared at him for a moment. He only heard the sudden fight behind him, not taking even the moment to look. It faded as he ran further away, following a black, setting sun.
This is not who I am.
Ghostly children played in front of an insubstantial wagon, around a campfire that gave off no light and no heat. They waved cheerfully at him, before turning into sailors at a dock, rolling barrels of rum onto a grey pier, off of a black ship with black sails, floating in an ocean of darkness.
A grey pier? No, it was brown. Some of them paid in red coin. Why is this so dark? I am lighter than this!
There was an explosion in the night, flames billowing up in a beautiful red and gold, from boxes on grey snow, against grey tents, with grey bodies and grey fleeing figures. Suddenly he was running with two of them on a song. Two women.
Why can't I see their faces? This was important to me. Why?
He could hear now, though. The song was glorious. It filled him, drove him on through the wild grasses, a luscious green under his feet. A deer leaped away in alarm.
Yes, this is part of who I am. But I'm still empty.
There were other songs joining his. He recognized the voice of the farmer turned soldier turned singer. Suddenly he was dancing with another figure in black, but in a well-lit tavern, almost too well lit. "Turn out the sun," moaned the woman next to him in the bed. He almost chuckled as he caressed her bare shoulderblade and looked back up the stairs towards the trapdoor. He climbed the stairs and looked about -- it was a bright sunny day, so bright it was almost painful. He looked back down the trapdoor, but the stairs suddenly fell into darkness, with a gravestone just barely visible where the bed had been. Disturbed, he looked back up to see a woman in white grinning wildly at him just before he found himself locked in a hug.
"Come to practice with me?" she asked brightly. He pulled back to nod, but couldn't see her face through all of the light. "Everything comes with practice!" he announced, shielding his eyes.
Names come with practice too. Practice. Say a name.
"You... I..." The light had become blinding. Suddenly he was drowning in an ocean of light. "Help!" he called out suddenly in desperation.
"Nell!" he yelled as he bolted upright. The room slowly stopped spinning and resolved itself into the treatment room of the Shadowspire hospice.
"You okay there, Loopi?" asked a nurse minimally dressed in white medical clothes.
"Loopi, right, I'd started calling myself Loopi," he murmured to himself as he turned to look at her. She looked back at him concerned.
"Do you know where you are? That knight brought you in, you looked like you'd had some kind of collapse, but all your vital signs seemed okay, so we just let you sleep."
Loopi chuckled, marvelling at how solid his voice sounded. "Yes, I think I just overdid it last night. Magic and mayhem and such." He looked at his hands, suddenly aware that his right hand was clenched around the neck of his guitar.
The nurse chuckled. "You usually know when to stop, Loopi, I'm surprised. Was it a good party?"
"I don't remember," he murmured, looking at himself. Suddenly he stopped, looking at the ground. His guitar was casting a solid shadow, growing and shrinking as he turned it this way and that in the light. The shadow of his arm, however, was pale and washed out.
Yes I do. My shadow nearly trapped me in a world of shadows. I was too bright. That brought me back out, too, but I lack substance.
"Then it must have been a good one!" the nurse laughed, teasingly.
Loopi suddenly turned back to her, a perfectly even, cheerful grin on his face. "Must have! Care for a song for your troubles? Least I can do for inconveniencing you with my carelessness!"
"Oh, you'll owe me coin as well, but I always love to hear you play. You're the only one right now, so feel free!" she answered smiling.
Loopi tossed an errant lock of hair out of his eyes, shuffled the guitar around to a playing position, and began to play.
Copyright © 2004-2005 by Zed Pobre. All rights reserved. This text is NOT available under a Creative Commons license.
