A Translation of Inspiration

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A Translation of Inspiration Page 18

by A.S. Morrison

are you here?” I called. My voice echoed throughout the cave.

  There was no answer.

  The realization was starting to come to me. He vanished for good. I knew it. I don’t know how I knew but I did. It was as though someone else had put the thought into my mind. I shook my head violently, trying to dispel that feeling. I was the only one with access to my mind, to even think of anything else was absurd.

  I got up and moved toward the light. It was all I could do to stay sane. That light represented my way home and I needed to get there. I couldn’t tell what it was yet, but I was glad to see it.

  The light was extraordinarily bright. It was almost blinding as I neared it. Something was in the light. I shut my eyes and felt around. I hit something hard. I ran my fingers over it and picked it up. It was a book, a large book. The moment my hands touched it the light faded away.

  There didn’t look to be anything special about it. The cover was old and worn. There was no cover picture and no words. I leafed through it. The print was small. I stopped on a random page and began to read.

  She repeated his name ten or twelve times. I stared transfixed at the words Amna International

  What was I reading? That actually happened to me when I was at the Clock Maker with Ramonia. But what did it mean? I looked at another page and started reading.

  It was like a play. The stage gets dark as the stagehands change out the sets and props. That’s all this was to me now. I was in an overproduced play and couldn’t get out. I just hoped the audience liked it.

  I remembered thinking that. Was this book a collection of my thoughts? How would what I’ve already done help me?

  There was a sudden breeze. I heard footsteps. I turned to see the wizard standing behind me.

  “What do you think?” He said, gesturing to the book.

  I shrugged. “I don’t get it.”

  He smiled guiltily. “It’s hard for most to understand at first.”

  “Can you explain it?” I asked. A mounting anger was slowly building up inside me.

  “What’s to explain? It’s all there, in your hands.”

  “There is nothing here. This is just a book telling me what I’ve already done.” I said through barred teeth.

  “Keep looking and it may come to you.”

  I dropped the book. A thud echoed around the chamber. I wasn’t in any mood to play around.

  “I want you to tell me what it means.” I said threateningly.

  He didn’t look fazed. “Like I said people come to the conclusion at different times. I only want you to know that the answer is right there on the ground.”

  “What answer?!” I shouted. “What does it mean? You haven’t told me a thing.”

  “I can’t tell you, you have to figure it out.”

  “I’m done figuring things out. What has it gotten me? Ambrose is gone and I am still no closer to figuring anything out.”

  The wizard nodded slowly. “And that’s alright.”

  That was it. I was tired of him and I was tired of that world and everyone in it. A small fire lit itself near the wall. I don’t know where it came from or how it got there but I didn’t care. I picked up a stick that was nearby and lit the tip on fire. I put the stick near the book.

  “I wouldn’t do that.” The wizard said.

  “And why not? Please tell me something.” I moved the stick closer to the book.

  “That book is you.” He said exasperatedly. “It would be a really bad idea to burn it.”

  “What do you mean it is me?”

  “I’m saying that the book is you. That is your book. That’s what you are. How are you not getting this?”

  “You are still not making any sense.”

  I wasn’t in my right mind. And if I could have thought clearly I probably wouldn’t have done what I did. I lowered the stick to the book and it immediately was engulfed in flames.

  The wizard gave me one final look. “You don’t get it. That is you. You’ve just doomed yourself.”

  He disappeared.

  I didn’t care. I did what I had to do. That book was starting to feel like those eyes. I didn’t have the opportunity to destroy them so I did the next best thing. I felt so much better as I watched the pages turn black and shrivel up. This was what I had been waiting for. If that book was me then maybe I could finally go home with it destroyed. I closed my eyes and waited to be someplace better.

  The crackle of the fire ceased. I was someplace different. I felt that I might actually find myself sitting at home when I opened my eyes. When the time felt right I looked. I was not at home.

  I was in a room. A small bed was against the wall and a television was on a table in front of it. A person was sitting in a chair near a window. It was white outside. Snow covered everything. It looked to be a parking lot. A cup of tea was on a small desk in front of the window. A blank piece of paper lay beside it.

  “Hello.” I said.

  The person didn’t respond. I had a feeling I was in a similar situation as I was last time I saw a person sitting by a window. Someone came in. Just like last time it was Ramonia.

  “Is there anything I can get you?”

  “No.” The person by the window said.

  “You’ve been in here too long. Why don’t we go and see a movie or something?”

  “No thanks, Ramonia.” The man in the chair said gloomily.

  “You have to do something.”

  “I am.”

  Ramonia picked up the paper. “Yep, sure looks like hard work.”

  The man grabbed the paper away. “I’m getting to that part.”

  “Get there faster.”

  “I think I’m going to be there soon.”

  The man turned and smiled at Ramonia. When I saw his face I noticed the eyes again. I couldn’t stand them. I wanted so badly to get that fiery stick and jab it into them. There was no way to avoid the feeling that those eyes knew every single thing about me. I hated it. But instead of running away to a battle field I chose to wait it out to see if I could get any clues as to what was happening.

  I stared unwaveringly into the man’s eyes. But then I noticed his other features and once again noted how familiar he seemed. His nose was similar, his mouth was similar, even his hair was similar. I tried to place it when an explosion of thought came into my head. I suddenly knew where I had seen this man before. I even knew his name: Lawrence Foster Brickem. I was staring at myself.

  I couldn’t handle it. Everything was just too much for me emotionally. I lowered myself halfway and then dropped to the floor, unable to take my eyes off of myself. How could it be? How was it even possible? What did it mean?

  “Excuse me but do either of you hear me?” I said loudly.

  There was no indication they heard me.

  “Hello!” I screeched.

  They didn’t hear a thing. I was right there in the same room and they didn’t even know it. My mind was filled to capacity with questions that I didn’t have answers to and couldn’t even ask. It was maddening.

  I finally did what I should have done right from the start. I ran out the open door and through a hall and down the stairs to the front door. I couldn’t touch it. It was as if I was the one who wasn’t there. I closed my eyes and ran. My body never met a solid object. I continued running faster and faster away from my own eyes that I feared so much. I never wanted to stop. If I stopped then I would have to come to face whatever insecurities I still had. If I stopped I would have to be somewhere and I didn’t want to be anywhere. I didn’t want to exist. I wanted to burn away like that book and be erased from the world’s memory. I wanted to fade away like Ambrose and be gone forever. Anything sounded better than finding the truth behind those eyes, the horrible truth that was bound to be attached to whatever was going on. I no longer wanted the wizard’s help. I just wanted to be lost in a place where my own recollections cou
ldn’t find me.

  I stopped running. I couldn’t do it forever. I opened my eyes and looked around. There was nothing. I was in the darkness of the changing sets. My mind wouldn’t stop shoving visions of myself front and center. I sat on nothing and tried to clear my mind of everything. I wasn’t going to stop trying until everything was gone. What could I lose? I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat. All I could lose was time and I didn’t care about that.

  One question persisted more than the rest. What was I? Maybe I wasn’t anything. Maybe I was something new that hadn’t been discovered yet. It didn’t matter what the answer was. No one was there to tell it to me so it made no difference what it was.

  I closed my eyes and let my head fall back. There was nothing left for me. I wanted it to end. The invincibility had to have a weak point. If I couldn’t die physically then maybe I could empty my mind and die that way. It was a long shot but I was willing to try my best.

  I think it was starting to work. I soon forgot about the clockmaker and the shadow. It continued. Before I knew it my mind was empty and there were no ideas left. The darkness closed in on my entire existence.

  15. The Precipice and the Clockmaker

  I stood. On a cliff. The remnants of white waves found their end on the jagged rocks hundreds of feet below. The hard cold breeze blew soft around me. Clouds hung low, occasionally wrapping themselves around the cliff. There were no other sounds apart from the waves and the breeze. My ears struggled to hear more, to find a more important noise, the aftermath of a massive shift or the beginning of something bigger.

  I

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