I preferred to be called by the name Mason. I thought it really suited me; sound-wise that is. I was considered tall and rather slim, with burnt caramel semi curly locks—mid length and a faded olive complexion. I had a pair of liquid golden brown eyes; I use the terminology so delicately because my eyes were always the target of numerous compliments coming from all kind of sources, so it just had to be right. I guess you could say that I was a fun person; a funny one at that.
I had read somewhere amongst all the random gibberish and nonsense I’m reading all the time–seeking a morsel of truth any which way I can—and I’m quoting, that you should “do one thing each day that scares you!” it rang nice to my senses, initially the sense of hearing and I thought that very second to myself: “Mason, you gotta add that one to your list right away.” And so it was settled.
It had been a slow day so far that fateful midweek day. I was done with work and had no plans whatsoever and was a tad out of sorts and tired of the old routines; had tried each and every single one of them for the past couple of hours and now it was time for some real thrill; something exciting which would perhaps—off the top of my head—“scare” me. So I got off my chair and headed for the closet. The outfit was without a doubt part of the whole act; so I picked it so meticulously. The loose khakis, the cozy old woolen pull over covered by the open zip matching gray cardigan accessorized particularly with the unusually lengthy stripe subtle scarf and of course my really comfortable trekking boots. As a final touch to the whole “look” I fastened my black headband around my forehead and topped it off with my black woolen gloves which would fit perfectly on my long and artistic fingers. The whole thing looked subtle and sophisticated both at the same time; if that had ever been possible of course. I grabbed the pen knife and headed out.
The night was calm and brisk and well, certainly dark. It felt a bit colder than expected so I decided to take quicker steps just to avoid the excessive hassle. It wasn’t like I had to be cold for much longer, I knew. So I headed where I was supposed to. The twisted alleys promised no danger, but simply what they had forever offered; stillness and quiet. Tonight though, there was something more: an air of horror, the kind which wouldn’t truly scare you. I passed the many dimly lit windows with shades of warm shades; pink, orange, yellow and amber; I would close my eyes and feel the countless movements behind them; those of violence and passion; those of boredom and emptiness. For some reason though, I could only feel the former for the most part. I passed and let the night keep on with its breathing.
Where I live a bridge with a considerable width divides the enormous canal by two parts; I’ve named them the lower and the upper side. For no particular reason and definitely with not much effort; so I started out from the lower side and made my way up. There he was; a possible case. He was almost the same height as I am and almost as fit; had nice looks too. The interesting thing is that he himself started the conversation and well, saved me the whole role play. That very moment I figured “well, he’s just too easy, what’s the fun?” so we just walked, up till the bridge where after having talked on and on about the importance of exercise and how he was apparently the master of all physical fitness and whatnot we shook hands and parted our ways.
I went down the narrow stone stairs; they were kind of wet and slippery from the rain all day and felt different beneath my boots; I almost even slipped once or twice. So when you go down the stairs, there you are; at the very beginning of the path which I call the upper-side journey. It’s way much longer than the lower side path and for a couple of reasons is of more interest; basically it just feels better to walk it. There’s much to explore and the eye doesn’t get tired soon. As I was walking upwards on the curvy path, I could feel and be certain that here was where it was all gonna take place; this was where I were to do what I had come for. It was awfully dark and the sky had tones of gray and pink and salmon, with a very blurry faded blue which kinda stretched right down to the horizon. For a moment I tried to talk to god and ask him a couple of questions which had lately been puzzling me; and I did it, but well, all he did was looking back with his innumerable twinkling eyes in absolute silence; or perhaps sneering back with that single giant silver glass eye of his. I gotta admit, it wasn’t all that satisfactory; Determined as ever I kept walking.
I had almost reached the skirts of the rocky cliffs; you see, that part of the path is what I call the impossible twist; cause it’s all dark and lonesome and ends in rubbles and kind of a dead-end. If you’re looking from way back, you’re gonna think it just ends right then and there and you’d never bother going up there, but you see, as I had taken the path many many times, I knew that it’s no dead-end; no sir. It keeps on going farther and farther till it forms into this narrow twist that leads into a bridge which eventually takes you all the way back to the beginning of the upper-side path. So I kept heading upwards to the impossible twist, for a second I thought I saw a massive shadow; and I did in fact. It was one of a lonesome dog; shabby and jet black moving ever-so-slowly in the darkness, almost like a silhouette amongst the blackness of the night; lit slightly by the former eyes of god up there, twinkling. The dog’s movement, walking or whatever it is that dogs do did not make the slightest form of noise and it kinda crept me out; the next minute though, the dog no longer was anywhere to be seen.
I climbed up the curvy twists and took the final turn which would bring me back to the beginning of the upper-side path. It was as if I had been there to do something which I hadn’t done by that point for a number of possible reasons; either cause It hadn’t been the right moment or simply because I had absolutely no idea why I had been there in the first place. Life could be full of confusions, filled with secrets with no revelations at hand. All I could feel and be certain of was the presence of darkness. So I was scared, as I tried to make my way back to the main bridge, I passed the trickling mirror of a pseudo lake gathered from the ongoing rain of the past week, the remote construction which I would personally call “deconstruction” and the very questionable stain marks on the stone tiles on the path and reached the main bridge. Once at the feet of the stairs I just looked back to get a final taste of the darkness; but it’s funny how all I could see right now was the many colorful lamp posts scattered all around the path, making it a very pleasant scene, all lit so colorfully.
When I passed the main bridge and as I was climbing down to the lower-side path, I realized the different air; here the first thing that drew my attention was the lamp posts; it struck me as strange how on this side of the way they were all of one single color: white. Like the color of the snow. They were white and awfully orderly erected alongside the pathway. It looked like the snow queen’s forbidden territory, as if I had never even taken this path which—let me tell you—I had, more than thousands of times. I don’t know, if I really wanted to express the feeling I guess I could say it was like hallucinating the reality and realizing the illusory all that same time. so I just looked up at the sky once more, trying to decode the secret of this hour; but looked back down in disappointment and kept walking.
You see, in the end I couldn’t remember why I had been there in the first place. I mean, yes; obviously I was aware that I had gotten out to do one thing that scared me but when I truly thought about what that very thing was, why I had taken my pen knife just in case and how I had prepared myself for doing anything—and I mean—ANYTHING that night; but regardless, I was simply in the dark; figuratively and literally and had no idea whatsoever what it was all about; I just knew one thing for sure; and only cause it felt that way; that thing was, somehow—for whatever reason—my mission was accomplished.