Monochrome (2 page)

“It’s okay, Abby, keep looking…” He urged.

She moved closer and peered into the mirror depths of his eyes and realized the image was of her, on the floor of her room, eyes clenched shut. She couldn’t hear the baby crying in the background or the words coming from her moving lips, but she remembered the desperate sound of her little one and what she was thinking.
They’d be better off if I were dead.

She shivered from the recollection. “Yes. I remember. I wasn’t in my right mind. I was thinking of killing myself.”

“You’ll find everyone here had the same thought. Which is why they’re here.” He closed his eyes, sweeping the image away with long lashes.

Abigail’s eyes widened. “Wait! Did I? I mean…I was sure I suffered some sort of attack or spell. I don’t remember trying to…Is this?” She was unable finish her thought. A terrible fear paralyzed her words.

Ishmael understood. “No, this isn’t hell. You didn’t kill yourself. Though I can see why you assume as much.”

A bitter sentiment crinkled his forehead into a frown. “It’s not hell but it’s no paradise either. When you choose to live here, you become gradually less human than when you first came. Monochrome is a place for the in-betweens, those who feel like they can’t be content in the living world but are not dead. Perhaps they think seriously of killing themselves, and even try.”

Ishmael rubbed his wrist absentmindedly. “But they are unsuccessful.” He paused for a moment, flipping his hat in his hands and staring at his feet. “You’ll find that the longer you stay here, though, the less likely you are of feeling happiness, of feeling like you could, someday, wish to live in the realm of existence. Staying here will confirm your inability to
really
live.”

Abigail didn’t like the sound of Ishmael’s voice, so hopeless, but also uncaring, like it didn’t matter to him whether he lived or died in sadness.

She frowned. “So, if I believe that, this is real. That is, if I didn’t go crazy and am actually sitting in an insane asylum imagining all this and speaking to a bookshelf right now.”

Ishmael looked up from under his hat, amusement in his eyes. “Then I need to follow you and you’ll show me a way out of this place?”

He pulled another cigarette from his pack and lit it before answering. “You sort of have it right. Not about the crazy thing, though others have compared me to a walking bookshelf for all the useless quotes and poems I have stored up here.” He pointed to his head, then took a long drag from his cigarette and held it while he thought of what to say.

Smoke billowed from his lips as he explained. “The thing is you have to truly believe going home will make you and those around you better off. Happy, I suppose, and you have to keep faith in that idea throughout our journey, until we reach the borders of Monochrome and Reality. Easier said than done, believe me.”

He watched Abigail from the corner of his eyes to see if she understood his point. “Reality is the best word we have for the world we, you, come from.”

She studied the velvet buttons on her dress, thinking. “So, how long will it take to get to the border?”

Ishmael pursed his lips then answered. “Like I said, time is weird here. There are no days. No sun, you see, so it’s difficult to tell. Though, it does manage to get darker when night falls. Also, you will encounter various,” he paused and stared at the lit cigarette in his hand, “tests along the way. They may or may not hinder our progress.”

She frowned. “What kind of tests?”

“It’s different for everybody. Monochrome uses your memories, your worst memories, to test your faith in the happiness waiting for you in Reality. I cannot help you when your tests come. It’s not a part of my job. I can only wait for you to make the decision to stay here or to believe in happiness outside of here.”

His face took on a dark, tortured aspect. “I’ve never guided someone across the border, Abby, so don’t get your hopes up.”

Abigail’s hands shook a little, but she forced herself to be positive. Staying hopeful might be the only way she’d have a chance to see her baby and husband again.

“Well, at least they’re not multiple choice. I’m terrible with multiple choice. ” She forced her face into a positive mask. “Mind games I can handle. High school teaches you to deal with those.”

The torture on Ishmael’s face fell off into amused surprise. “I see.”

He stood, threw his cigarette down and stomped it out. “Sounds like you’re ready to get started. But, all joking aside…” He moved closer to her. “These tests…they’re worse than mind games. They’re heart games. They’re made to break your heart, not your mind. I’m just as smart as when I came here, maybe even more so, but I’m far less…” He searched for the word in the eerily silent nature around him. “Feeling. I don’t feel much anymore.”

Abigail noticed the slump to his shoulders as he admitted his personal defeat and it made her wonder what tests
he
failed. She didn’t ask. She felt a restless energy to get started while she was still positive she could beat this strange place and return home to her family. “Can we start now?”

Ishmael put his hat back on his head and, with a flourish of his arm, directed Abigail to a black pebble walking path in front of them. She hadn’t seen it before and wondered if the trail only appeared when Ishmael was ready for it to. An uneasy prospect, at best.

She didn’t know if she should trust a man the blue nature aided. He maintained control of their direction and movements at all times, and while she didn’t fear him, she was uncertain of his intentions. His story felt hollow, memorized rather than felt.
What choice do I have
? She stood and followed him down the glassy pebbled path.

*

They walked past hundreds of navy trees on the black rock path, but Ishmael hadn’t said another word to her, and she was so stunned by her current circumstances she allowed the silence in order to process what’d happened since she fainted.

Her mind swam with worry over her infant, lying at home, alone. Ishmael said time passed slowly in Monochrome compared to Reality, but still she wondered whether Ruby was safe, whether she was still crying, whether she was still frightened of Abigail’s outburst. She clung to the consolation that Jason would be home with their newborn soon.

She remembered staring at the clock back home, willing for him to walk through the door ten minutes earlier than he normally did, so she could get some rest and time away from the baby’s cries and needs.
He was due home any minute.
She felt guilty for her desperation now, and was relieved to experience the nurturing instinct rise up in her. She wasn’t broken, after all. She
could
feel normal, motherly affection and fear for her daughter. Up to this point, it had mostly been guilty frustration.

She thought, in her fit of anger, that she might hurt Ruby, but knew that she was incapable of following through, even if the thoughts crossed her mind.
There is something seriously wrong with me, though,
she thought. Normal people don’t want to shake their babies.

She felt a tear run down her cheek. She wiped it away and peeked to make sure that Ishmael wasn’t a witness to her weakness. She didn’t know this man and wasn’t comfortable letting him see her vulnerable.

He hadn’t even acknowledged her presence since they began their journey, and was still walking ahead, unaware of the confused, depressed woman behind him. They walked past metallic trees, glinting in silver light, in an uncomfortable silence. Suddenly, he stopped walking and rummaged in his pockets for a cigarette.

Abigail waited patiently for him to light the cigarette so they could continue walking, making time for his consistent crutch, even if she didn’t care for cigarettes personally. She had her own bad habits. But, to her surprise, he lit the cigarette and faced her, his face haloed in the sulfur of fresh smoke.

“We’ve been walking for a while now. We’re coming up on a bar I know in about a half hour. They have food and drinks. We’ll probably need to stop and rest.” He exhaled smoke and raised a brow, waiting for a response.

She shrugged. “Yeah, fine. You’re leading, so I’ll follow you. I’m not hungry, though. I just want to get home.”

Ishmael shrugged. “Suit yourself.” But he didn’t turn around and walk ahead as she expected him to do. Instead, he groaned and stretched his arms.

“We have a long ways to go before we get out of here. You might need food to keep going.”

She shook her head.

Ishmael crinkled his nose in annoyance, and took a drag of his cigarette. “Stubborn, huh?”

She didn’t answer. She was too drained and too worried about her baby to be hungry. She kept thinking of how Ruby looked when she put her down to keep from hurting her. The shock of helpless fear in a being so little broke her heart. Ishmael’s face contorted into an aspect of concentration.

He reached out and touched her shoulder, not to comfort her, she sensed. Just to touch her.

“You’re still worried about your baby, huh? She’ll be fine. I told you, time’s different here. Don’t worry about her. It won’t do any good to worry.” He took his hand from her shoulder. Abigail opened her mouth to answer, but was too surprised to talk.

Ishmael noticed her surprise and frowned. “What? You told me you left your baby, and I assume she’s what you’re worried about.”

She took a step away from him. “Yes, but I didn’t tell you my baby was a girl. How did you know?”

He threw his hands in the air. “Lucky guess.” He shook his head in exaggerated annoyance.

She folded her arms. “I don’t believe you.”

He stopped shaking his head and tossed his cigarette butt to the ground, crushing it under his boot. “You coming or not?”

He stalked down the glassy rock path. She followed a few paces behind, being careful not to get too close. He was acting very strange, and she didn’t know him well enough to know if she should be worried.

As if reading her thoughts, Ishmael twisted around, walking backwards to address her. “I’m being a jerk, aren’t I?”

Abigail didn’t answer, but it was clear to him she agreed. “Sorry. Being a Guide, I just
know
things about my Leads.”

She must’ve seemed perplexed because he clarified. “A Lead is whoever I am taking through Monochrome. Anyway, I know that’s a lame answer, but I hope it suffices for now.”

“I think it has to do with your eyes.”

An amused expression stole across his face. “Why?”

She quickened her pace so they were side by side. “Because of what I saw before when I looked into them.”

Ishmael fiddled in his pockets, but didn’t produce a cigarette.
He gets fidgety when he’s nervous.

“Uh, not really. Though, I can see why you’d think so.” He observed her from the corner of his black eyes. “My eyes reflect the amount of time I’ve been here and the good memories I’ve lost. The longer you’re in this place, the more of Reality you give up, the blacker they become.”

Abigail shivered. “That’s comforting.”

Ishmael sighed. “Yeah. Look, I’ll explain whatever you want me to explain when we get to the bar. It’s not much further. Alright?”

She nodded in consent. “Sounds lovely.”

He grinned ruefully and walked by her side, kicking black pebbles once in a while. She made no attempt to fall behind. She may not trust him, but it was clear he was trying to make her comfortable in spite of his apathetic exterior. The pebbles beneath her feet crunched loudly, echoing against the stark silence of the midnight scene.

She wanted to ask more questions and break the silence, but she was unsure if she wanted the answers. So far she chose to treat her situation as an unpleasant nightmare, going along with it and hoping to wake soon. Unfortunately, the reality of this nightmare grew more certain every moment.

She laughed to herself.

“I can’t imagine what you find funny, but please enlighten me.”

She smirked. “I was thinking about why this place is probably not a nightmare.”

He lifted his brow, intrigued. “And?”

She walked next to him as she explained. “Well, I normally don’t dream so lucidly, and my dreams don’t consist of metallic trees and a mopey blonde man with a pissy attitude. To her surprise, Ishmael laughed too.

“Hey.” He snickered. “I’m not
that
blonde.”

“True. More of a dirty blonde.”

He winked, dropping his voice low. “You better believe it.”

She gasped and shoved him, laughing an apology when he stumbled and fought to regain his footing.

He chuckled. “I’ll allow the abuse this time. I think I’m gonna like you, Abby.”

She raised an eyebrow. “It’s Abigail.”

He snorted, then pretended to scrutinize her bicep. “Are you part gladiator? You almost knocked me on my ass.”

“Mostly German on both parent’s sides.”

“Gladiator, German. Same thing.”

Abigail shook her head, grinning. “Yeah, okay. So, are we almost there?”

Ishmael groaned. “You have no idea how many times I’m asked that question in my profession. I feel like I should be driving a station wagon and threatening to turn the car around if I’m asked one more time.”

She grinned. “I can’t see you in a station wagon.” She couldn’t help herself. “Are we there yet?”

He glared at her, but his eyes laughed. “Very close. The bar isn’t in a town, really. It’s just kinda huddled off the path. Like an old time trading post. We’ll come across it shortly.”

Her eyes scanned the twilight tinged forest around them. “How can you tell when we get close? Everything here looks the same. The trees are identical. The light comes from nowhere, so you can’t even tell what time of day it is or if it’s day at all. And, as far as I can tell, there’s no evident sign of life.”

Abigail also noticed Monochrome was sensually unvarying. It wasn’t just the landscape and colors. There was almost no smell. No matter where she went, she always noticed a distinct odor. Having gone to school in Seattle, she still remembered the fishy, low tide odor, mixed with exhaust and urine and fresh ocean air.

New York had smelled like hot garbage, humans, ancient dirt and urine, when she visited the city on a class trip. In her experience, cities possessed their own smell, but all populous cities smelled a little like urine. Home smelled like dirt, corn plants, hot cow pies and the verdant, ripe tang of grass. Monochrome smelt like….air. Not snow ripe air, not warm, spicy air, not moisture rich, pine flavored air. Just oxygen in its simplest form, with a slight tang of metal.