Fathomless

Prologue (almost in Hell)

The second time we met, it was also a coincidence. It was September 20th when I saw my one-night stand again. Or was it him who saw me first?

When I was younger, I debated with myself a lot about whether or not God exists. Growing up in a catholic family, I was requested to read and analyze the Bible a few times. Every time, new questions bloomed in my head, and I got more and more confused with the illogical concepts and discrepancies. At the end of the day, I decided that, if a godly power existed, it did not contribute to writing those nonsensical books.

My young self went on a self-reflection journey. I searched for my spirit, my essence, the core of my heart. What I found was a confused teen, standing at the end of the 20th century. No voice of God, no higher power. I was fourteen years old, and I decided I will be an atheist. You can trust no one to guide you through your life. I wanted myself to be my personal God.

My beliefs carried on throughout my further life and got only more drastic. But the ever-lasting question what is going to happen after I'm dead kept eating me from the inside. Am I going to reincarnate? Will my soul be wandering this earth, restless and reliefless? Do I even have a soul? Or was I wrong, and will spend the eternity in Hell, serving the devil his needs? What will happen to me?

I don't know the answer, and probably will not catch it even after my death. Because it's my consciousness is tied to this question. Will it even matter to me anymore when I'm cold and on the way to disappearance? Energy, the matter, does not disappear. But the change in form equals the loss of your essence.

September came with a sudden change in temperatures. In comparison to hell-hot August, the beginning of Autumn was almost winter-cold. Wardrobe changed from casual t-shirts and shorts to full-length pants and jeans, and sweaters. I kissed the two wet spots underneath my armpits goodbye and prepared for the never-ending Canadian winter. Some would moan loudly, cursing the climate. I didn't. I think I prefer the harsher weather.

A student is a busy human being. So busy, that seventy per cent of his time he has no idea what he's doing or where he is. The majority of his life goes by like in a blurry, fast-motion film, while he himself stands in the middle of everything, but is only vaguely aware of what's happening.

For me, September was just like that. I vaguely remember doing that and going there, but the details, they blur together into an enormous, colourful picture. At the end of the day, everything ends the same with me appearing in my room, my roommate's chirpy voice in the background attempting to make small talks with me. A comfortable routine, allowing me to calm down and remain in control of everything. When you know what's coming up in the future, you can be prepared for that.

Turns out life, as it is, had other plans, and was preparing to throw something unexpected my way. It only shows that you can't be more wrong the moment you start believing you have figured everything out. It was my fault for relaxing. But it was also his fault for finding me again.

September 20th happened to be Thursday, my favourite day of the week. You can already feel Friday at the door, the blooming anticipation, equal to the excitement that one feels the day before Christmas. It's not there yet, but you can already taste it on your tongue.

I was walking down the street from my faculty, my weary eyes calm for the first time that day. I was done with the lectures, Stephen King's book in my hands being the only thing that would occupy my attention that evening. A scorching cup of tea, and a satisfying supper. That's what I wanted, nothing more did I need to feel fully satisfied.

I stopped, waiting for the light on the other side to turn green, allowing me to pass the street. A cool breeze touched my face lightly, bringing hints of alluring aroma towards my nose. Before I could turn my head sideways trying to find the source of the scent, a presence stopped beside me.