The Harbor Of A Restless Mind

The moon shone high in the night, radiating icy white light over the plains surrounding the campus of the Barrow Academy. Aside from a handful of students with impending finals, the lonely lands that stretched for miles held only dormant life. Gail never had the fortune of being invited into this dormancy.

A gust of wind pushed past the curtains into the room, allowing the lengths of white cotton to waltz aimlessly, framing the near midnight sky without: the whole and brilliant moon guarded by loyal stars. The image was otherworldly.

For a moment too long, Gail stood mesmerized by the image of a perfect night. It was the kind of beauty that deepened the pain of loneliness. The breeze blessed her once more with its cool caress and Gail leaned out of the window to receive it. 

The weariness of another restless night dissolved with the sight of the night that stood before her, holding mysteries that were veiled thinly. 

On another night, with good company, perhaps she would chase the stars to the horizon. When finals end, and she has the time and energy to give proper attention to the beauty that surrounds her, she would surely run to meet it like an unbridled stallion. 

Such were the lies she amused herself with to gain courage to face another day. 

An alarm sounded. Her laundry would be ready by now. Perhaps with at least clean sheets to sleep on, her mind can rest for what precious few hours remained of the night. 

The hallway lights were always left turned on in the dormitories, even in the dead of night. It was something that Gail could never get used to. When she moved in as a First Year, it seemed to be a waste of resources. Now, with no time but midnight to do her laundry, she knew better than to question the small conveniences provided for her, regardless of their apparent lack of necessity. 

The nearly full length windows in the laundry room —yet another seemingly useless feature— presented the image of the midnight sky once more. There was a red dot blinking though the sky and the moon stood fragmented as a double image against the panes of the window. With fluorescent lights that could have disoriented the average person’s circadian rhythm, bright green walls that peaked between washer-dryer units and confetti tiled floors, the laundry room stood as its own otherworldly image. 

Standing there, with a laundry bag, ready to fold towels, sheets and underwear all the same at two in the morning, Gail wondered at what point the sparks of impulsivity that sustained the momentum of her life could be diagnosed as insanity. 

Gail settled the laundry bag on the ground and reached for the dryer handle, ignoring the green letters that flashed on the tiny screen by the buttons. Clean, warm fabric might be enough to justify this madness. One can imagine her shock when her fingers tangled in just the opposite. 

Push start and begin the cycle. 

Gail blinked. She read the green flashing letters once more, not for want of confirmation, rather as a challenge to reality, daring it to push her over the edge.

Push start and begin the cycle. 

It’s—O.K. Just stay calm. 

Gail’s toe slammed metal, denting the machine slightly. Aside from shooting pain up her foot, the act did nothing. It was an ugly dent too. Looking up, Gail caught the CCTV camera glaring at her with condescending judgment. 

Swallowing her pride, Gail did what she should’ve done an hour ago and pushed start to begin the cycle.

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Gail tried to drown out the crowd that cheered from the arena seats that surrounded her. The overwhelming stench of salt and copper that hung in the humid air did nothing to calm her nerves.

Clad in wool and armed with a wooden staff, Gail felt like an overdressed child readying for some imagined sword fight.  It was a joke the hosts played; half the fun of this production was watching overdressed fools try to remain standing in the heat of the arena.

Across the field, she spotted her adversary. Unarmed as he was, he was neither a fool nor an imagined threat. 

Avery.

His name rang bitterly in the back of Gail’s mind, bringing a scowl to her lips. Her enemy remained unreadably blank faced. Such was the pattern these days. 

He wore a pair of blue jeans and a flannel shirt. They were borrowed clothes, ofcourse, that hung too loosely around the shoulders. Gail couldn’t help but notice that he’d lost weight rapidly since their last encounter. Nonetheless, he had height to his advantage, along with several years of experience within the arena. The lumberjack aesthetic didn’t make him any less intimidating. 

All you need is an ax.

As the distance shortened between them, it grew apparent to Gail that she had committed herself to a suicide mission. It wasn’t a novel thought, just one that had the habit of popping up at the worst of moments. 

In her stiff grip, her weapon grew to be a deadweight. Avery’s eyes remained calculating, like he’d already formulated six ways to use the staff against Gail. 

“Avery.” she greeted, grateful her parched throat roughened her tone. 

“Back down.” His reply was an order, one of the many Gail chose to ignore.

The knot in her stomach tightened. “Bite me.” 

Her company remained unamused. That should have brought her to her senses and made her listen to the wiser company.

All she could feel was the overwhelming desire to break something, anything in her way would do. 

Avery.

The staff arched towards his mandible. It met obstruction quickly, too quickly. The shock of impact rang through Gail’s knuckles. Her palms burned. The staff was torn out of her grip, then jabbed back at her shoulder. She didn’t know when the ground slapped her skull. The pain radiated through her brain just the same. 

“Back.Down.” Avery stood over her, dark eyes stern, accustomed to being obeyed. He held her staff with both hands, whitened knuckles holding it still. 

Gail blinked the warm dampness from her eyes before refocusing her gaze on the man that loomed above her with the grandeur of Goliath. 

“No,” she groaned though half a breath. 

A blunt smack met her jaw. Coppery wetness flooded her mouth. For a moment she was sure he’d torn a muscle in her neck.  Running her tongue across her cheek, she felt the slit her teeth sliced into her flesh. 

“Abigail.” 

Blood and saliva pooled in the back of her throat. She spat a mouthful onto the orange dirt before pushing herself onto her elbows. 

“Back down.” 

I back down. 

But the words failed to slip from her tongue; the latter was busy trapped between her teeth. 

The staff jabbed into her ribs. 

“Back down.” 

Pain snapped in her shin.

The ground swayed beneath her and she shut her eyes, but it kept swaying nonetheless. She was on a poorly made raft being thrown about some grand ocean. 

“Back do—”

“Stop—” The word slurred thickly in her swelling mouth. “Please—” she struggled through bloodied teeth. Though her eyes were shut tightly, she could sense his figure blocking out light and trapping her in his shadow. 

I back down. 

Someone bothered to put Gail on a stretcher, to drag her to the infirmary. She was infuriatingly conscious through the whole affair. For the most part, her eyes remained squeezed shut in a hopeless attempt of keeping the spinning world still. When she tasted bile kick its way up her throat, she rolled over and let it out. Her attendants were none too pleased. After a string of colorful language, they maintained their course, an act Gail was grateful for. 

Loudspeakers blared the name of the next contestant, sending a roar of excitement though the arena. Gail was too disoriented to catch the name. Whatever came next in that pit would be Avery’s problem. She looked forward to their reunion in the infirmary, not from the want of company, simply for the satisfaction of knowing someone painted the dirt with Avery’s guts.  

Gail felt her weight sway against the stretcher before it came to a halt. Someone swore. Curiosity got the best of her and she opened her eyes. She now had new reasons to throw up her insides. 

“He’s dead meat, that Aberdeen.”

And Avery really was, for the next contestant was no burly man, but a burly bear. 

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As Sage watched the world beneath her shrink into a thousand diamonds, a prayer ran through her mind. This was not a plea to God for safety, nor a cry in desperation — as its many predecessors have been — rather a humble request.  The lyric of a hymn to the immaculate Mother surprised the girl as it sounded from her mind, seemingly from dormancy. Seeing her motherland disappear from the airplane window, she repeated the words to herself, placing weight in each one.

I beg that you’d watch over the land of my birth. 

Just three short weeks ago, these words would have been a hollow title, a happenstance. Birth was merely the event that started the string of chaos that followed. After a lifetime of detachment, Sage did not expect to find herself sentimental over this vaguely familiar notion: national loyalty. But the knowledge was there, deep beneath the layers of denial, that this was the country that generations of her ancestors have lived, loved and bled for, the one her parents called home: the land of her birth.

Hearing her mother-tongue spoken freely around her— without a moment of hesitation— drew out sadness that she hadn’t know persisted. For these last few hours, in this plane full of strangers, she will not be a minority. She is amongst countrymen. 

The right to belong may be one Sage gave up — voluntarily at times — but the girl sought comfort in knowing she will always be entitled to her motherland: the land of her birth.

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It’s a silly fear, a child’s fear, but one that sends cold shivers down Sage’s back even now when she wakes from a restless nightmare featuring it. Marking her earliest memories, it was her oldest companion, this fear.  

Sage was a girl of seven, or eight, too old to have such silly fears. The thought occurred to her on the car ride to the hotel, it was a vivid image of five sharp blades conjoined in the center, surrounded by a perfectly square frame. Always presiding in the top corner of the shower window, it watched you, naked as you are with nowhere to run. 

No, Sage told herself, it won’t be there, not this time. 

But praying and wishing never kept it away. 

The elevator was ascending now. Excitement sparked amongst the other family members. Mom’s been waiting for this vacation for ages. Dad’s been researching the local scenic spots, eager to fill his new camera with family photos. Even Mai seemed vaguely happy at that moment. 

“Now don’t sit there sulking, Sage.”

But she couldn’t help it. Sage closed her eyes and it was waiting for her: five sharp blades spinning fiercely. 

The bellboy was walking them to their room, and Sage already had her senses on high alert, waiting for signs of its presence. 

The key clicked and the door swung open. Crossing the threshold with her breath held, she listened closely for the persistent hum. It was distant and faint, so quiet, for a moment Sage allowed herself to believe that she imagined it. 

“Help your sister with the bags.”

Sage made herself step forward, following the hum. It was cut off by silence. 

“Sage.”

She took a few curious steps towards the bathroom. When the door swung open, she didn’t flinch. 

“What?” her father laughed nervously, “Go help Mom unpack.” He was never a good liar. 

Pushing past him, she grabbed the bathroom door handle. Though there was hesitation, she pushed through. 

The ceiling was too high and the lights too dim. The bathroom mirror only reflected the lower half of the room. It was a room hand tailored to deceive Sage. She knew what she ought to do, so her work commenced.

Her reflection caught her eye —angry and prepared— and ordered her to stay strong. She scanned up to the top of the wall and was relieved to find its corners bare. Inching her focus to the left, she found two more corners that housed nothing but an abandoned spider web. 

One more corner, she told herself. 

Empty. 

One more—

The door was in the way. She’d have to step in to get a proper look. Bracing herself, she treaded the tiled floor carefully. 

Just a little further in. 

The sight pricked fear into her heart. 

“Why are you just standing there? Oh—” Mai’s disappointment could not have been more thinly veiled, “Mom—”

It took a minute for Sage to force herself to look at the Fan. It lay dormant, a subtle breeze might wake it. Its blades were still, too still. If she broke her gaze, they were sure to move, so she never broke her gaze. There was an illusion of safety that the glass shower door provided Sage with, as it stood transparently between Sage and the Fan. 

The Fan grinned slyly down at her, knowing it had the power to pin her in its presence. The glass door that stood between the pair will soon cage her in. It has a long term alliance to consider and no time to spare Sage’s feelings regarding the matter. 

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Sage looked around to see faces broken open in glee. Red faces, freshly blushed from the midwinter storm that they just walked in from, smiling at each other in familiarity. There were no eyes willing to meet hers. 

Of course. 

People were too predictable.

Sage looked down at her own hands, fingers darkened and slightly swollen from the aggressive cold. Clenching them, she tried to calm the buzzing of her frozen nail beds. A sigh escaped her before she tried to pull a smile onto her face, to match those surrounding her. 

At times like these, she was sure she had made a mistake. 

“You’re doing this out of habit.” 

Her roommate’s words were far from a lie. It was a foolish pattern Sage had fallen into. When days blended together into a predictable march, a kindle sparked within her. She needed to burn down the life she built for herself just to know she can build something different from its ashes. Now, looking around at the damage she had done, she realizes she has no idea which pieces she needs to pick up to put back together. 

To make things worse, there were just too many people here, too many faces that have already grown familiar with each other. It would take a decade to beat this cacophonous noise into a predictable march. 

Is this what you moved here for?

The question, with all its bitter contempt, slapped her back into the present. 

No.  

There would be time later to mope around and feel sorry for herself, or maybe there won’t. Right now, she had ashes to collect and not time to focus on the unfamiliar noise. 

Scanning the room, she was adamant to find a space to pry herself into amidst the chaos. A friendly face caught Sage’s attention, and she fought her gut instinct to break eye contact. Though she couldn’t put a name to it, she feigned familiarity, and waved. They waved back. 

Of course. 

She could not help but let her smile grow genuine. 

People were too predictable.

The latter beckoned her over and she obliged. 

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The wind blew through Mai’s hair. Sand rushed past her toes when she wiggled them. To her left, the waves crashed desperately against the shore, only to be dragged back into open sea by the currents. Someone kicked, from behind, at the soft spot on the back of her knees. She knelt on the sand, having no reason to stand back up. Her palms sank into the soft sand. Succumbing to its invite, she leaned in, until the warm grains pressed against her cheeks. 

Someone laughed. She looked up to see them run before her. Someone else called for her to follow, and for a moment she almost got up to pursue her company. But she waited for too long and that made all the difference. For just a moment too long, she stayed put in the sand, allowing it to pour over her, against the howling wind. 

Maybe she would wait, and they’d return to fetch her. Maybe they won’t. The seconds poured in, the laughter grew to a distant echo and all she could hear was the desperate crash of the waves inching its way closer to her lying form. Growing closer by the second, never to reach her. 

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The room went Cold, or was getting Cold rather. It wasn’t sudden, the Cold was asserting its dominance over the room steadily. It crawled into the crooks and crannies of the room, leaving no crevice untouched. It allowed the room to keep no secrets from it. It filled the room until all Gail could feel was the Cold.  

Gail walked over to the window to close the curtains, but a voice requested against it. The voice belonged to the slender masculine figure that sat at the foot of her bed. His eyes were drained, not of color but of another feature that when lacked causes the appearance of lifelessness.  

Perhaps agency? 

“Avery.” Gail greeted, “What are you doing here?” She talked over her shoulder, closing the window all the while.  

“No Abigail,” Avery frowned, “Keep the curtains open.” 

Gail let them slide from her hands.  

“I haven’t seen the moon in a while.” Avery went on, “He’s been keeping me inside a lot lately.” 

“Who has?” Gail made her way to him. 

“The warden himself,” Avery seemed to be fixated on the way the moonlight hit the dust that waltzed casually across the damp air in her bedroom. Gail once learned that this random motion was caused by diffusion, which in turn was caused by an energy imbalance. Or at least that’s how she understood it. The figure examined the dust particles in a manner that suggested that to him, the movement was anything but random. He seemed to be waiting for it to reveal the secrets engraved into its fine grains. “He’s got a chip on his shoulder, Robert.” Avery continued, “I think I’ve made him very angry. Can I stay here tonight?” 

“What did you do?” Gail took her seat beside him at the foot of the bed.  

“What didn’t I do?” Avery glanced at her with a smirk before returning his focus to the dust.  

“Avery,” Gail demanded sternly, taking his face in her hands to force his eyes into hers, “What did you do?” 

“Abigail,” He took her face in his hands. With a grin spread ear to ear he asked, “What didn’t I do?” 

Shrugging out of his hands, she demanded, “Why are you here Avery?” 

“I had a bad dream,” he replied transparently, “I needed company. Can I stay with you tonight? Robert’s no fun these days.” 

“When was Robert ever fun?” Gail teased, avoiding the topic of Avery staying here. She was adamant about getting all her facts straight before allowing her guest to stay.  

Avery remained quiet, sensing Gail’s reluctance to answer her.  

“Tell me about your dream,” Gail diverted the conversation. 

Avery shook his head. “I want to take you there,” Avery stated, “May I?” 

Gail nodded, and followed the homeless boy to the window. Her palms clammed at the sight of the drop to the ground, but she crawled out nonetheless, one limb after the other and followed him into the darkness.

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Sage wished she could go back to a different time, a simpler time perhaps, and live life from there. Maybe, with what she knows now, she would be able to keep life simple. Sage would not need to open her eyes to the ugly truths that exist before her. If that were the case, she would have never gained knowledge. In the absence of new knowledge, growth becomes stunted. The world discards that which could not grow and keep pace with its changes. A stubborn seed that will not sprout will fail to become a tree.  

Sage does not need to agree with this world to understand it. Understanding is simply a means of learning how to survive. On its own it is useless. Sage must utilise it to navigate this world without allowing it to consume her. She would like to believe that is one of the most important things that she learned from this world: to understand something that is disagreeable without hating it. 

Once, when Sage was a child, she lived without consciously understanding life.Sage might have been about ten. It was at that age that a conscious being awoke within her and decided that it desired to experience this world. Sage believes that is where childhood begins to die. Its decay is a slow and painful process, one that Sage believes is coming to an end soon. What comes after? Sage does not know. 

Until that delicate age, however, Sage was in a blissful state of dormancy. She  was like a seed held and protected within a fruit. All fruits fall from its tree and begin its slow and painful decay. The seed then finds itself in the midst of detritivores and dirt. It must be trampled on and pushed into the dirt to discover its true destiny. 

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