Wanderer I: Nowhere, Everywhere

The darkness was all encompassing. Peacefulness washed through Xavier. Despite the pervading blackness, despite the unique sensation of weightlessness, Xavier felt truly at peace for perhaps the first time in his life. He wasn’t sure where he was, or how it was possible, but somehow it felt right. Everything was slow, relaxed, simple, and unworrying. As thoughts placidly wound their way through his mind it occurred to him that he should be disconcerted, if not outright terrified by his current situation. Total darkness, floating weightless in a complete void. There was no light, yet he could see himself without difficulty. His mind thought he should be confused and disconcerted, but all he felt was safe, peaceful, and relaxed. He tried to remember how he got here, but he drew nothing but blank memories. He was Xavier, but he didn’t know who that was. He had a family. They loved him, yet he couldn’t remember their faces or their names. He knew he lived somewhere, but he remembered neither where it was nor what it was like. He knew he had a life, somewhere, but he had no recollection of anything but floating in the void. Slowly, as he contemplated the weirdness of the situation he recalled a memory. Distant, yet vivid, surreal and objective, like an observer watching a masterful movie. There was wetness on his face, and a distant feeling of pain in his cheek. He reached and felt sticky wetness, where he touched was painful yet muted, as if a far greater pain overwhelmed it. He looked at his fingers and saw blood. He felt as though he should be frightened, but he felt peace and calm, as though he was merely an observer in someone else’s conscience aware that all around him was an illusion.

The darkness seemed to lessen. Slowly receding, like the gradual lifting of layers of a veil, unhurriedly revealing the image beneath. The scene slowly resolved itself. A city, draped in the yellow and brown light of a heavy hanging moon, its face the picture of a mourning father. The city was dark, shrouded in mist and misery. The view rolled back. Rising from the outskirts of the city, overlooking the sterile sky rises and fetid parklands, were lush hills, tainted in darkness. Xavier sensed, rather than saw, the man standing on the edge of the hill, peering out over the city. The scene solidified further, and Xavier became aware of the falling rain, the biting chill of the wind, and the ill-boding stench. It was like no odour he had encountered, vile and repugnant, it seemed almost to be the essence of an evil death and decay. The wind howled, reverberating through the entirety of his essence. A detached, disembodied sense of fear, overshadowing pain, and despair flooded through Xavier. Stark clarity struck him as the man stepped forwards. Time slowed, the instant it took the figure to step off the ledge grew to an eternity. Realisation spread through Xavier. The figure, the man about to hurl himself to his demise was Xavier. He remembered standing there, he remembered casually stepping off the ledge, and the bittersweet rush of falling to the rocky river below. Dissonant waves of cacophonous terror and silent calm ricocheted through his intangible essence. His mind reeled with confusion, disbelief, and wonderment. Blackness consumed Xavier as his meagre mortal mind failed to cope with the overwhelming enormity of his transformed existence.

Wanderer: Prologue

The giant yellow and brown face of the moon stared down over the cheerless, bitter city with the wretched, despondent look of a wounded father, as oppressive rain beat mercilessly down on Xavier. His waterlogged hair, matted with bloodied mud, whipped across his wounded face in the driving wind, each stroke bringing pain that played a perfect counterpoint to the anguish that tortured his mind. His glistening eyes betrayed his joyless heart, as his gaze reached out from the hillside, forlornly searching the hazy cityscape. His mind tumbled. Over and over. The images flashed past. Every time they played out as they had the time before, and every time he felt the anguish, the horror, the helplessness. Every time he remembered the poignant stench of her wounds, every time he saw the lifeless look in her eyes, eyes that seemed to call out to him to save her, to blame him. Disjointed and chaotic they came at him, never in order, always mocking, always casting blame, with harrowing accuracy the thoughts and memories battered him. He fought to forget, to escape the baleful weight of his tragic action. Wordlessly he screamed to the heavens. Screamed for whatever worthless god inhabited the heavens to undo the past, to take his life in her place. His mind tumbled, his thoughts raced. Again the memories played, incoherent yet with vivid clarity. He watched, helpless, as he sped down the slippery hill. He saw the headlights of the truck. The lights blinding him. The feeling as his car ploughed into the tree. The agonising sensation as the car spun about the tree, the horrid sound of buckling metal, the searing stings from the countless shards of glass. Again and again the memories came. The sharp crack from his ribs, the excruciating pain that shot through his abdomen, the terror he heard in Sophie’s final scream. Incessantly the memories repeated. The slippery corner, the blinding light, the screeching metal, her dying cry. Bitter tears ran freely down his face, mixing with the mud and the blood. Turning and lifting his eyes from the view down the hillside, he saw the signs of damage on that fateful tree. The memories cleared. So little remained to mark the spot. Mere days had passed. He had lost count of the number. The hospital, the funeral, her brother’s baleful hatred, the constant ache in his stomach. He could never forget, never forgive, never be forgiven. The city just cleaned up, nature simply regrew. Nothing cared. The memory of the onrushing tree through the rain soaked windscreen flashed through his mind. The terrified look of surprise on her face. The images crashed into him again, like waves relentlessly beating the shore. They wore him down until he was numb to the world. All he felt, all he experienced, all he knew was sullen pain. Bitter pangs stabbed through his gut, the agony and anxiety overwhelmed him. His mind reeled, lamenting its actions, lamenting its loss. As if stepping on to a train, Xavier casually stepped off the side of the hill, unnoticed by man and forgotten by nature. As he plummeted downwards, towards the engorged river and its unpitying rocks, the memories played one final time.