And Suddenly It’s Nightfall
Everyone stands alone at the heart of
the earth
pierced by a ray of sunlight,
and suddenly it is nightfall.
pierced by a ray of sunlight,
and suddenly it is nightfall.
The Man Behind the Mask
His
introspective journey began when the unexpected smell of brine reached his
nostrils, and his gaze fused with the line at the horizon where the sun seemed
to dip into the ocean gilding it with shimmering rays of molten gold.
From
his balcony, he could see people stop entranced before the splendour of the
evening sky, but he felt no stirrings within him. “Who am I? What’s wrong with
me?” he asked aloud, knowing no one could hear him and question his sanity. He
sat on a chair and put his head between his hands feeling an undertow of
yearning for himself, as he once was. With the thumb of his right hand, he
trailed his facial contours as if expecting to find something that did not
belong there. “I’m exhausted…exhausted from trying to keep the mask intact in
its place. I’ve been hiding behind it for too long.” The swerve of thought hurled
him across the thorny landscape of his memory. Treading upon it, a gallery of ghosts emerged
before his spiritual eye as the film of his life unrolled.
For
the past twenty years he had been serving his country, taking part in numerous missions,
playing the role of a warrior whose shield was woven of fortitude, toughness, and
unwavering belief in the causes he fought for. In his mind, memories gathered
and swirled, memories of the horrors he had witnessed, of the blood that
stained his uniform dripping on the parched earth, of the physical and
spiritual ruin of his fellow soldiers. He vividly remembered a child that could
not have been older than six sitting on a wall, a boy he held in the crosshairs
of his rifle scope not certain if he would have to kill him in listless
indifference if he discovered the child was being used by an adult to bait him.
Amidst
the cut and thrust of missions and deployments, he somehow lost the sense of
who he was. And he could not even recall when it was that he first became aware
of feeling impervious to the sight of shattered childhoods, ravaged lands, and the
infinite pain and sorrow surrounding him. Dissociation from reality was a skill
he had mastered all too well.
Gazing
at the sunset he felt his heart beat faster. At the same moment, from the
balcony next to his the sounds of Vivaldi’s “Summer” oozed out. The melody brought back a memory of a church
concert where a small orchestra played Vivaldi’s Four Seasons and he listened
to it spellbound, with every cell in his body pulsating with aesthetic pleasure.
But that was the time when his heart was still soft, porous and large. Now, it
was fenced with barbed wire and shackled in ice.
The
night sky was now bleeding crimson across the clouds. The blazing hues reminded
him of wildfires dancing to the celestial music, but it was only a thought, a mere
concept, and not a feeling. And evening tumbled down suddenly veiling the sky. A
solitary tear rolled down his cheek and with his finger, he followed its wet
trail. He mourned the loss of who he had been before life changed him, before
he had made a Faustian pact trading a soul that could be moved by beauty for the
cold valour of a professional soldier. He wondered if his heart would ever thaw
enough to be pierced with the aching beauty of sun rays, before the final night
fell.
Jana Begovich is a writer, author and contributing editor to Ariel Chart.
Tags:
Short Fiction