Tʜᴇ Pᴀᴛʜ Tᴏ Hɪɢʜɢᴀᴛᴇs

Tʜᴇ Lɪɢʜᴛ Fʀᴏᴍ Tʜᴇ Dᴀʀᴋ

Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1

You breathe freshly from your nose as the cold air swarmed your puffed cheeks. It was a cold day again, quite unusual was the snow falling from fluffy white clouds above you. But you didn't mind, it was an experience that came maybe twice a year. This was Dublin after all, it only either rained, fogged up and went dull or bloomed with a sunny christening.

But today was a nice day. It was none of the usual weather you had to bare, and you were perfectly content to sit in it, coffee in hand, outside your favourite café. Your friend, Mark, had just left to get back to his class, leaving you to relax in the gentle snow in peace.

It was a regular Monday evening, students rushing by to get to their lectures on time, parents driving in to see their kids and young friends laughing as they headed to shops. This was the college life you always wanted, studying something that fascinated you and drinking all the coffee your empty bank account could bare.

You were a history and politics major at a prime college in the heart of Dublin City. Like the history nerd you were, you kept a bag stuffed with a notebook and pen at all times, just so you could be prepared if you stumbled across an old building or got into a detailed conversation with an elderly about the past. It wasn't strange for people to see you sketching or writing those sorts of things down, a stupid smile to match your starry eyes.

But for now, you were simply sipping on some coffee, drawing no attention to yourself as an overly interested college student.

You tilt your coffee cup back to finish the last of the milky residue left at the bottom and stand up, you slung your bag over your shoulder and give the table one last glance before you begin to walk away.

You weren't exactly dressed for this kind of weather, but as you dragged your feet further and further from the coffee place, you felt yourself warm. Maybe it was your jumper, or the idea of your criminally warm bed waiting for you in your apartment. But whatever the reason, you felt happy. Or what you assumed was happiness. Surely a warm seed instilled in your chest, that burned even when snow fell was a sign that you were happy with this life.

What else could it be? Love? Phfft- no, hard pass, you had no time for anyone other than your one and only friend. Perhaps then it was happiness. Yes, you were content to live this way. Maybe even to die this way. Free, alive, joyous.

The snow fell a little more violently as you trudged past other students. Their eyes were lined with eye bags, their faces pale and tired. But not you, you were alive and well. Breathing the same air as them but basking in the cleanliness of it. You did have sympathy for them, but you were too wrapped up in your warm blanket of Haven to see eye to eye with them.

Life was good, and that's all that mattered to you.

You smiled at that, lifting your head to let the sky fall on you. Snow battered against your face, caressing it to lose colouring and go paler in its icy depths. The wind swung cautiously behind you, egging you on to hurry up before you miss too much study time, but you kept your lethargic pace. The coffee you just ingested still stained your throat, and you swear you could smell it every time you breathed out.

You lowered your head to look in front of you again. There was no one around, just you and your happiness bug. Shaking the snow from your hair, you walk under an archway that led to a small bit of communal garden outside your apartment. Snow was sticking to the grass and the trees looked much more foreign under the weight of the white blanket they held up.

You gently ran your fingers over a clump of snow that was hugging a tree nearest to you. The snow was cold enough to completely freeze your skin upon its frozen touch. You smile and remove your finger, the tip was already red and aching but you weren't too bothered, there was nothing a nice hot cup of tea couldn't fix!

Looking away from the snow you visibly jump at the sight of someone standing by the wall adjacent to you, phone torch on and facing you. You placed your hand over your heart in an attempt to comedically compose yourself.

"Christ you scared me, would you mind turning off that light? It's in my eyes." You yell out to the person.

The light didn't falter even after you said that. If anything it got more intense. You narrow your eyes and step closer, feeling strangely mesmerised but uneasy. You were going to say something else, but you couldn't find the words, why was their light on when it was still bright out?

You stalk forwards, eyes narrowing the closer you got. Your voice was caught in your throat and you were strangely aware of how cold it was, the finger you had touched the snow with felt almost hypothermic. But you don't stop to question it.

The light seemed to be coming from something on the ground. A light atop a dark dingy figure. You stop in front of it and feel your legs fall from under you. It was cold.

F r e e z i n g.

The earth started spinning like a merry-go-round until a deep-rooted headache corroded your mind, almost like parasites sinking their teeth into your soft organs.

A body sat in front of you. His hair dishevelled and bloodied, his stomach torn open like he was hacked with a blunt axe. A light wiggled and wormed in his stomach, like something was eating him alive. Blood and puss poured from his cracked skin and torn clothes.

You feel your stomach fill with pain. So much pain that you even wondered if you were dying. But nothing came from it, your eyes simply failed on you, then the earth began to spin without you.

It truly is a marvel of how fast everything can find an end.