The Lifeless Light: A Tale from Dema

Chapter Six: Welcome to Trench

I was hesitant at first. To be honest, I only heard of this thing called "dancing" in fairy tales. Within Dema, celebrations of any kind were dignified and restrained to show respect. Movements of uncontrolled happiness or excitement were deemed childish—or even foolish.

Yet there I was, in the middle of a dozen banditos who flailed around like they had some sort of ailment. It was peculiar but intriguing. I swayed to the rhythm of the drums at first—then I began to understand. Adding more energy to my movements seemed natural ... uncontrollable. I looked around at the others for inspiration. It wasn't long until I blended in with their chaotic bliss.

I hadn't experienced that much fun since ... any time I could remember.

I smiled to the point my face and head hurt—I didn't even know that was possible! Minutes blurred to hours, marked only by the changes in the bonfire's blaze. Slowly, it lost its intensity and settled into a grouping of normal-sized campfires dotted around the car.

Taken by the moment, I didn't realize Joshua and Tyler joined the festivities. I only caught a glimpse before losing sight of them in the energy of the night. It was enough to see them enjoying the occasion—we all were.

In that short amount of time, I felt like I belonged somewhere again. I could see hopes and dreams forming in my mind—euphoric side effects from this jovial celebration. In those few fleeting moments, I believed I discovered what I longed for gazing out the tower window a few months prior.

Exhausted from the festivities, I moved outside of the active zone of dancers. I watched them with the same kind of admiration Tyler displayed earlier. Indeed, they were brave to seek happiness during such dark, uncertain times.

And there he was again—I spotted Tyler on the opposite side of the scene. He knelt down on one knee, calmly gazing at the others from amid the tents, where he seemed most comfortable. His eyes were closed, as if he was soaking in the energy that radiated from the banditos before him. I could tell, in that moment, nothing else existed to him. When his eyes finally opened, they were duller than before—downcast from something his mind carried.

...............

Soon after, I was invited by Joshua to sit with him, Tyler, and Brenton at a smaller campfire near the edge of camp, several yards away from the main festivities. We made small talk and exchanged a few laughs as the celebration slowed down. Tyler stared into the alluring glow of the fire, as we all did, but he remained silent.

I recalled the memory of him holding his ground as the bishop rode in, right down the center of Trench. There were moments back in Dema where, despite my admiration, I feared the sequence at the stream was all a hallucination. Meeting and speaking with him face-to-face verified my mind's accuracy. I wondered what happened to him in that following month—when we found ourselves back in the wretched asylum we fought so hard to leave.

Time went by faster when I stared into the blaze. It was getting late. The crowd of banditos thinned with every minute. The land lost its music and rebel shouts, replacing it with crickets, wind, and the distinct crackle of the campfire.

Joshua stood up, "Well then, it's been a good night, but I must get some rest."

"Another one down for the count!" Brenton grinned.

"I wake up before any of you do, so don't act too cocky," Joshua quipped back. "It's a pleasure to have you in the group now Clancy. Rest easy tonight, guys."

He vanished among the tents.

I and the two remaining members by the campfire grew oddly quiet. While Brenton was jovial all night long, the vigor in his face slowly drained away. His foot tapped, looking as serious and distracted as Tyler. In fact, his eyes drifted away from the fire and locked onto him. Brenton's body language grew more jittery every minute.

I realized something was amiss.

It was then I noticed how dark the edge of camp was—to the left of me, beyond the light of our fire. I stared out into the darkness to figure how far I could see into the night. Past the log bench Tyler sat on, the world became a black void.

My friend was calm, unaffected, but tired—likely planning to leave the group to rest. He looked down at his hands, studying them. He moved them around, placing his fingers on the creases in his palms. I watched his eyes break their trance and look away, as he rubbed his neck.

There was only one word I could think of to describe him: haunted.

He then met Brenton's eyes, which hardened like stone. In that moment, their gaze communicated countless words as a set of black hands, robed in blood-red, reached out from the dark void and constricted around Tyler's neck.

Eyes lit by fear, he immediately knew who had returned for him.

In a flash, Tyler was gone—consumed by the darkness. I jolted back as I saw him vanish, looking to Brenton's cold face for understanding.

"Welcome to Trench, Clancy," he said bluntly.

Anxiety wrapped around my chest. Once again, I had been lied to—tricked by those masked in feigned sincerity.

"Why would you..." I trailed off with panicked breaths. "He was one of us!"

"There's a reason we live on the edge of a chasm, boy," he retorted. "It reminds us to pick a side ... because if you choose to straddle the point in between, it's only going to bring you closer to death."

I jumped to my feet, shaking my head in disbelief. And once again, I felt the legs beneath me take off—a response that was almost involuntary, I learned. Yet this time, my feet did not storm off in a rage of betrayal, but rather a sprint of heartache. Tears blurred what little I could see of the shrouded world beyond.

Hopelessness stung more than anger ever could.

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Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Poor Clancy ... he just wants to find a truthful place where he belongs. 

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