[15:10] The Theater: A man stepped out, a woman too. Two entered the fray, as the man looked across the theater forum and spoke plainly. "Last we met, I brought my mother home from the physicians. They told me it was terminal- Such a horrible.../Clean/ word. Now I fight death. I build a fortress inside of a maze not even Death can solve. Between salts and omens and sigils, I keep my mother safe. I extend her life." He bows his head as he took a few steps back then. With the synopsis of the story before hand given, he looked down to the woman in bed with a worried look.
He spoke again then, not to her it seemed, but to the air in front of him. His inner thoughts burdened to the world.
"Something was trying to get to my mom. The strangeness began the day after I lit the candle. At first it was small blips, tiny /wrongs/ that I chalked up to my imagination. Doors I knew I’d closed at night were open in the morning. Food began to rot and spoil within days of me bringing it into the house. Eventually, food would go bad almost
[15:10] The Theater: immediately. Every few hours the books in my study would close if they were open, and open if they were closed."
He paused, before a low breath and closed his eyes. He could believe- HE HAD to believe it was true. It was the only way to protect her from a threat, was by making it as real as his shield.
[15:17] The Theater: He looked up then to the crowd, his brows furrowed. "Knocking was heard overnight, always at 3:03 in the morning. Shadows began sticking to the corners of rooms independent of any light sources. The shadows were stubborn and they would linger for as long as I would stare, then disappear when I blinked. I began hearing bumps and knocks at all hours and sometimes, when I’d enter an empty room, I had a sharp, fleeting certainty that it was only just occupied." He motioned then to the edges of the theater stage. Hands were painted on; hands of strange, clawed things. Just on the edge of vision; just on the edges of reality. They were trying, and so far failing to breach his fortress. His mother's eden.
"Days marched into weeks and the wrongness only grew deeper. My mom and I both lost sleep to vivid nightmares that we couldn’t remember when we woke up. Only the echoes remained but those were enough to leave my pulse sprinting until morning. I started sleeping in a chair in my mother’s room. I did this to
[15:17] The Theater: comfort her if she woke up confused during the night but also because, if I’m being honest, I was too scared to sleep alone. I felt like a child running into his parents’ room, convinced there was a monster under the bed. Thing is...maybe there was."
He said as he walked over to his chair, and placed hands upon it; feeling over its texture and woodwork. It was solid, it was comforting. It was a rare foundation that he could plant himself to, and still see his mother. Know that she was breathing and alive. Safe.
[15:25] The Theater: He looked back to the audience, shifting his gaze across them as he spoke aloud. "By the third week I couldn’t keep doors closed. They would slam open the moment I left the room. A terrible scratching began inside of the walls. I told my mom it might be urts or something but the sound was so insistent, not like rodents milling about, more like a giani wanting in. I stopped leaving the house for supplies; instead, I had what little food we ate delivered. I kept the curtains drawn. There was tapping on them every night."
He looked over towards the wall then, stepping over to it as his mother shifted in her bed. She looked positively sickly, thin and emaciated. But death would not- COULD not take her. It was by his will alone that she was safe, forever more.
"About a month after leaving the Physicians we were living like the dead. The dining room couldn’t contain the smell of the candle anymore. The entire house was clogged with the scent. Tiny noises had graduated into full-on laughs and screams and
[15:25] The Theater: whispers in the rooms around us. Something kicked the bathroom door so hard while I was taking a bath that the hinges warped. I covered every mirror in the house. I’d started to see things in the corners looking back at me, half-hidden faces, shapes that skittered away as soon as I turned around. Mom was drifting further and further away. She had long moments of confusion where she’d forget my name, forget where we were. Sometimes, she’d think I was my dad. Other times, she’d just stare at the wall for hours, growing fainter and fainter each day like a painting left in the sun."
He paused then, his face steeling as he stepped over towards the edge of the stage; feet just shy of the thick layer of salt. He looked down, almost a shameful posture but with a face of stone.
"But she was alive."
[15:32] The Theater: He walked over then to the table by his chair, looking down at a candle- THE candle. He watched its soft glow, taking it in and letting it lap at his dark clothes. "It was clear that we were under siege by something. My world shrank to only one room and every trip to the bathroom or to answer the door for food felt like going over the trenches. The noises kept getting worse and worse, the shadows closer, the sense of movement around the house sharper. Every now and then I would feel hot breath on the back of my neck or walk through a cold patch hanging in the air. I stopped bothering redrawing the lines of salt around the house. I knew, deep in my bones, that as long as the sickly candle burned, Death could not take my mom away."
He spoke almost frantic now, desperate. His words were filled with the kind of tone of required victory. That he would give no quarter, only his own life to the enemy. Their victory would be to step over his corpse to his mother.
"On the thirty-third day after leaving the
[15:32] The Theater: hospital, I woke with a start from a nightmare, only to find my mom’s bed empty. She hadn’t been able to walk the past week at all, so my first feeling was hope that she might be improving, at least a little. Then I noticed the odor we’d been living with for weeks was gone. The odor of that candle, rancid and foul...It was clean."
He pivoted then, as he watched the woman in bed walk- No...Shamble over to the candle, and with two delicate fingers snuffed it out. His face suddenly twisted into shock and despair as he rushed over to her. "Mom!" His exclamation broke through the forum as he watched her hover her fingers over the now snuffed candle, swaying back and forth like a weathered scarecrow in the breeze.
[15:40] The Theater: He grasped at his mother's shoulders, trying to gain her attention, her recollection, anything. It was then obvious she was asleep. Sleep walking on the cold floor to snuff the candle, his last bastion by her own unknown volition. With a start she awoke, and the man was quick to catch her from falling; though it seemed almost weightless. Like he needed nothing to keep her aloft. A paper mache woman, carved out by cancer.
"Mom? Mom, wake up. Why...Why did you do that?" He asked, his voice cracked and hurt. After all his fighting, the very thing he was protecting broke its own walls down.
She looked around then with a confused look before finally meeting his gaze. "Brian..? Where are...What am I doing up?" She asked, unaware of even the candle before her.
"You're okay, you were...You were sleepwalking. A bad dream. Let's get you back to bed."
She shook her head softly, speaking almost to herself more than her own son. “I was having the most unusual dream,” mom mumbled. “There were so many stars
[15:40] The Theater: and...” She began to shiver uncontrollably. He too let out a gasp of breath, as if the room was sucked of its very heat, shoulders pinched in like a man stepping into icy waters before the room fell acutely silent.
[15:47] The Theater: Then the scratching came. From all behind the wall, sounding throughout the forum by its echos horrible scratching, tapping and heavy footfalls filled the room. Things inside of the walls, inside of the house.
The invasion.
Glass shattered somewhere, as his mother grasped at his shoulders. "Brian..." He held her tight, his voice a forced calm. "Don't worry, everything will be-"
A force, a specter loomed suddenly. A looming blackened figure like a man behind them both, except it was tall...So very tall. Within an instant it weaved past Brian, and scooped up Maria before she disappeared in its layers of black fabric and cloth, whisking her away. Disappearing (behind the stage) from reality. He clawed at the air before palming at the walls, then staring down at the candle with desperation. "No- No no NO!" He exclaimed, hissing breath as his voice became frantic.
Inky blackness began to bleed from the walls. It pooled from below, pouring over the theater stage , covering it before slowly dripping down
[15:47] The Theater: and covering the wall. Everything became stained in black, a force beyond shadows. A force beyond whatever material world he was protecting his mother in. He did not even seem to notice or realize the inky blackness that had manifested and invaded what remained of his home.
[15:54] The Theater: Thankfully for the onlookers, the 'salt' rim around the stage lapped up the liquid spreading across the stage. It stained it black but made sure that no Scribes would be knocking down their doors about a clean up crew.
The man stepped through it, gentle splashes on each footfall as he spoke out across the forum. "I thought of my mother the night she found me lost in the woods, the night I’d run away. Her face filled my memory, her lighthouse smile. I remembered the relief I felt when she found me, the overwhelming love. I held onto that feeling, clutching it close."
"You can't have her." He whispered. He looked behind himself to see black cloth wreathed along the edges of the wall, a material tether of the thing that took her. He rushed over to the wall, palming a hand against it before /tugging/, feeling the fabric pull tight and tear gently. He would not- COULD not let go as he struggled. Fighting with whatever was on the other end as it dragged up and across the wall. It would not have her, not
[15:54] The Theater: without a last fight. But with a sudden tug back, he was pulled viciously hard towards the wall before his forehead was slammed against his bedroom's wall and he fell. A splash of inky water below him as he fell unconscious
[16:02] The Theater: He stood after a moment, after two stage hands had swiftly shuffled furniture around and disassembled the bed. All in all, it took twenty minutes as he laid there motionless. Soon enough he was stood and looked about as he spoke.
"I woke up under a field of stars. I was lying in soft grass, still wearing my same clothes. It was cool, wherever I was, but comfortably so. I stood up. There were trees all around me, tall and close, stitched together with shadows. Immediately to my right, there was a road that ran straight as far as I could see, blurring into the horizon. But the stars, they were like nothing I’d ever seen before."
He stepped across, looking over the foliage as he continued. His face was contorted in confusion as he let out a slow breath to contain his thoughts. "Bright ribbons of northern lights rippled above me in green and blue and purple. Stars lit the sky like millions of lanterns floating on a still ocean. The moon shone sharpest of all, a spotlight hanging above the treeline, so close
[16:02] The Theater: I thought I could stretch up and brush its face."
It was then, that a figure appeared from his left. A cloaked figure wreathed in black. So black that the constellations themselves could be contained within. Brian looked at him with confusion and anger in his face, before he belted out a demand. "Give her BACK! Give me back my Mom!" His fists were balled, as if any mortal deed could be done against whatever stood before him.
[16:08] The Theater: The figure did not reply. It stood there, its very being and form beyond what he could fight. Beyond what he could ever- EVER hope to stop. This thing, this /entity/ known as Death. He stepped off to the side, looking away from it as he spoke out.
"It was then that I knew...I knew it was not this being that I invaded by. It...It was something else. Terrible, evil things. For when I gaze upon this, I only see the stars. The infinite blackness, the beyond times of infinity. But then...I still did not want it to take her. I could not- WOULD not let it...But how could I even begin?" He asked to himself, before looking back up to it.
"Please...Let me. Let me talk to her, one last time. Give me that." It was then that seemingly from the cloak itself she stepped out. That figure looming behind her as within a moment, his mother stepped back into his life. She still looked...Wrong. Emaciated, defeated. Dead. But she was full of life compared to the year since. She was her again. No more miasma of confusion, bed
[16:08] The Theater: pans and pain. She was his mother.
[16:15] The Theater: "Brian?" She said, with a mixture of confusion and comfort. She smiled warmly as she stepped forward from the inky blackness, which retreated into the aether as quickly as it materialized. "Isn't this the most beautiful dream?" she asked, staring up at the night sky.
"Yeah. He said, as he looked up as well to the night sky. "A beautiful dream. I love you, mom. I love you so much, so very much.” She stepped forward, and touched his cheek as she let out a warm breath. “I love you, too. Don’t cry, it’s okay. I’ll wake up any time now. I’ll see you then.” He gulped down his words before he finally replied, a hand wiping tears that formed on the fringes of his gaze. “Sure, yeah, I’ll see you then.”
"“What do you think is at the end of the road?” she asked. “Do you think I’ll have time to find out before I wake up?” He looked then to where she spoke of, and he tilted his head curiously to the side. “I don’t know, I don’t know where it goes but...promise me you’ll be
[16:15] The Theater: careful.”
“Of course I’ll be careful.” She said, that warm smile widening. It was then that another figure stepped up, behind Brian. A man that looked only a few years older than him. A man who you'd swear was a spitting image of him. A man who Brian had mentioned his mother in her less lucid moments mistook him for often.
“And she won’t walk alone,” His father said.
[16:23] The Theater: He turned fast, seemingly expecting that starry eyed, blackened figure only to see...A man. The same eyes, the same fair skin and shock of blackened hair.
“Such a beautiful dream,” Maria said, as his father walked past him and took her hand. “Take care of her,” Brian said, his voice pleading and soft. “I…just please take care of her, make sure she gets where she’s going. There are, well, there are things out there that want her, to hurt her, it’s, it’s my fault, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-”
The man lifted a hand and squeezed his shoulder, a smile pushed onto his lips. It looked so much like Brian's. “She’ll be safe, watched over. If the Devil himself is waiting on the road ahead he’ll move. Or he’ll be moved.”
Brian gave a knowing nod. He believed him entirely. Brian stepped to the side, looking out to the crowd as he spoke. "Thoughts raced through my head. There were so many things I wanted to say, questions, a million ways to say goodbye. I wanted to stretch out the
[16:23] The Theater: moment for as long as I could but I realized I’d already delayed my mother enough."
He looked back then, nodding to the two of them. "Goodnight. I love you both."
They walked off then, off stage. Off into the great road. Off to whatever was waiting for Maria in the afterwards.
[16:30] The Theater: He stood there, watching them go before he walked to the edge of the stage and looked out over the crowd. "I woke up back in my bedroom sitting in my chair, the unlit candle in front of me. The house was quiet and still. There was no more scratching, no sound or sense of life at all. I walked through every room. The house was empty. I was alone." He paced along the edge of the stage, through that thick blackened salt.
"I’ve spent the past couple months working on the house, erasing the marks I’d made, fixing up the property. Some nights I take long walks out into the forest. I’m far enough out in the country that on clear nights it’s like looking up at a sea of stars. I think about my parents the most during those walks, I grieve and remember in my own way. And I wonder where their road went, if they’re still traveling or if they reached their destination."
He finally stopped his prowl, standing in the center as he looked up, up towards the entrance of the Forum into the sky beyond. "I hope that
[16:30] The Theater: their road takes them strange and beautiful places. When I walk at night, I look up for the North Star to keep from getting lost. Maybe they do the same."
"They say that astrologers found theoretical ancient seas on the moon, they named them Marias. When it’s full, I also look up towards the moon. I wonder if my parents had a chance to visit, to search for hidden oceans. I like to think they did, that the moon has at least one Maria, the one I love most."
He bowed his head then. Silence overtook the stage. The play was over.
Maria was on the Moon.
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