Still Waters

Sirens in the distance brought her back to consciousness, but they were not for her. Light footsteps on the sidewalk nearby paused as if searching for something. She held her breath, and the footsteps resumed then receded.

The dirt was cold and wet and oddly comforting. The smell of damp earth laced with tendrils of honeysuckle reminded her of summers long ago -- laughing and chasing, hopscotch and jacks, biking with friends who knew nothing of the dark specters that hovered so near.

Eyes still closed, she brought the index finger of her right hand to her lips and tasted blood mixed with tears. The blood tasted sweet, while the tears were bitter like poison. It was fitting, that. It was fitting for her tears to taste bitter, for she felt bitter. And yet, the bitterness was superseded by contentment with this strange state in which she found herself.

It should have been a graveyard, she thought, her face twisting into a wry smile, but that would have been far too cliché. The park was better in its way because it would remind the world that death was the ultimate playground.

She opened one eye to just a slit. In between the leaves and dirt heaped upon her face she could discern shadows, slight variations in the blackness that moved gently but purposely around her. She knew what they were. She had created them long ago, and they were the only thing in her life which had continuity. They had always been with her, even in the times when time itself seemed to stop, and they would be with her at the final moment.

There were more footsteps, louder this time, and voices. She watched as the shadows formed a tight ring around her body, protecting her from prying eyes that might intrude upon her. Seeing this, she closed her eye and sighed, knowing that she was safe.

Noises echoed in her mind, scraps of conversation, fragments of songs, sobbing and laughter and hoots of derision. But they did not concern her. Her need was gone -- the need for more intensity, more love, more attention, more power and more lust. This need had coursed through her veins for many years, a thirst that could never be slaked, a hunger that could never be satiated. She had tried everything to satisfy it.

At first she tried socially acceptable means: prescriptions, obsessions, alcohol, sex. She searched continuously. Maybe this person could do it, or perhaps that one. But everything had consequences, even the people that she chose, and most of the consequences only increased her need. So she moved on to less palatable vices, those that must be done hurriedly in secret shame, dark dirty underground pastimes that met the need for a time only to rebound it to greater depths later.

The shadows were there at every turn, watching, waiting. She clung to them like a child, because while they could not meet the need themselves they could at least give her strength enough to continue the struggle.

The hollowness that she had always felt began to haunt her physical form. She could not sleep, and while awake doing anything "healthy" was completely out of the question. But no one actually noticed because she carried the shadows with her like a talisman. They formed an impenetrable barrier around her through which others saw only what she wanted them to see. They kept her safe in their own way, and she was grateful for that. They kept her anonymous and solitary, so that when she finally passed into oblivion there would be almost no effect, no ripple on the surface of human society, nothing to show that she had ever been there.

Except one pair of eyes, eyes that she had looked into many years ago and had seen her own pain reflected there. In sheer terror she had run away from those eyes, for they saw too much. They knew too much. She had no defense against them but distance; however, she knew those eyes had not forgotten.

She had not forgotten those Eyes either, nor the Voice. "Still waters run deep," she whispered, echoing the words the Voice said.

A mourning dove cooed.

She drew her last breath as her thoughts slowed and time stopped.

The shadows disappeared and she saw the Eyes. The Voice spoke gently, "You have been still for too long, my dear. The depths of your soul must be freed. Then you will find that for which you have been searching."

The breath of life pushed itself into her lungs, and she gasped. Her body warmed as her heart, which she could hear and feel as it pounded within her chest, began to circulate blood again. She slowly opened her eyes and stood, brushing off the dirt and leaves. The blood and tears and shadows were gone. The darkness around her somehow seemed brighter, and her body stronger. She strode resolutely towards the lights of the city, finally knowing where she was going and why. And she knew that when she got there, the owner of the Eyes would be waiting. She would no longer shrink from their gaze.

"Still waters run deep. And deep is good," she thought, a smile flitting across her face as she hailed a taxi.