Isolation
A Short Story
Introduction
He pulled himself away Opting out of what was for a life of what is Stillness
He could not bear more The loss The sadness The rage His memories vivid His horror omnipotent and unrelenting
This was his journey To heal To escape To isolation
Day One
He made it. His journey was beginning. He felt a sense of relief but erased it. He would accept no solace.
The decrepit cabin before him would be home. Away from the memories. Away from pain. He was kidding himself. He was stuck with both.
He laid his backpack, with his worldly possessions inside, on the dusty wood floor. No one had been here in years and it smelled like it.
There were only two windows. He opened both to let fresh air enter and distill the must. Sunlight flooded all 500 square feet in an instant. There was hope.
He grabbed the broom next to the door and got to work. As dust particles flooded the air they caught the light at the right time and became celestial.
He uncovered the sparse furniture and sat down in the rocking chair that had been in the same spot for 100 years. He stared out at the bucolic landscape. He breathed in the fresh air. For that moment, he forgot what happened. He wanted to punish himself.
Day Two
He was there, standing outside. He could hear what was happening, but his body wouldn’t move. He could not be a hero. He could not save them.
Suspended in time. His life unfolding right before him — without him. He felt a deep chill go down his spine. It was over, again. He could not save them.
He had been here before. Every night he returns and every night he fails. Every morning starts with self-loathing and unbridled rage. He could not save them.
He shuttered awake, the chair still rocking. He knew this feeling. It’s why he was here. He knew it wouldn’t leave him. He will keep it here because he could not save them.
Day Three
He had become better at diverting his hostility. The cabin was accepting of what he had done. He hadn’t eaten the first two days and felt the first reminder.
He planned to be here, but not this way. The cabin was ready for what was to come and so was he. He would keep it here.
He opened the trap door in the middle of the cabin and opened his childhood memories in earnest. He knew it would all still be there, but to get it he would need to trudge through a field of demons.
These demons were an afterthought now — a minimal distraction in a sea of abomination. He could do this.
Day Four
He did it. The internal disgust no longer afflicted him. Those memories now usurped by the unthinkable. He could not save them.
He organized his sustenance with robotic precision. Calculated, but for a different purpose. He had planned to be here, but not this way.
He sat in the rocking chair as he had done in years past. The constant movement helped ease the anxiety that plagued him as a child.
He stared into the vastness and allowed himself, for a moment, to relax. The second his shoulders slumped into leisure, he wanted to punish himself.
He resisted and pushed himself ahead. He opened the front door and stepped outside for the first time since his arrival three days ago.
He sat on the bench that he built and fought the diabolical duo trying to overtake him. This time he won.
Day Five
He was there, standing outside. He was closer this time, but still unable to make his body act. He could not be a hero. He could not save them.
He could hear more now. It infiltrated every ounce of his being with willful disregard for his sanity. He was helpless.
He tried to put his hands over his ears, but he was immobile. He had no choice but to listen. The outcome wouldn’t change either way. He could not save them.
He opened his eyes. There was no sweat this time. He was beginning to normalize the repulsion. He knew why he was there. He could be nowhere else.
Isolation.
Day Six
He began to spend more time in nature. It was calming. He didn’t want to punish himself. He was already doing that.
His mind would relent on these excursions into the wilderness. He was experiencing something. He spent hours amid the timber, hiding from his thoughts. Earth breathed life back into his begrudging soul.
He was alive.
They weren’t.
He wanted to punish himself again. The native surroundings wouldn’t oblige. He was here for a reason. He was going to have to accept it.
He was alive.
Day Seven
Nobody knew where he was. The cabin was undiscoverable. His life now condensed into isolation. This is what he wanted.
Part of him was free. Part of him would never be, especially not here. The necessity outweighed the past torment. That time seemed bearable now. He has been through worse.
He had not spoken a word in weeks, leaving the consternation in his head. He didn’t want to speak again. He wanted unlimited solitude.
He could only trust himself here. He couldn’t go back. He wouldn’t go back. Resolved, but only in this one geographic decision.
Day Eight
He was there, standing outside. He was on the front porch now, willing his body to move. Nothing. His feet like poured concrete over lead.
The screams were louder than he had ever heard. The pleas falling on deaf ears. He was too close. He wanted to go back to isolation.
He knew what was happening. The detective gave him the details. He wasn’t listening though. Part because of the shock, part because of the robust coffee stain on his tie.
He opened his eyes and felt the brisk breeze blow through his heart. He knew he was alive. He knew they weren’t. It wasn’t like the times he woke up unsure. He was sure.
Day Nine
There were days when the anger subsided and acute anguish persisted. He did nothing. He cried.
The only sounds in the world were his tears
His head in his hands — unmanageable emotional discharge.
These days were long. These days were laborious. He would make it to tomorrow. He would accept the misery. He would live.
The sun would come up tomorrow morning and a new day would arrive. Not for them, but for him.
Day Ten
Ten days of isolation had no effect on him. He was numb. A dilapidated version of the man that once was. His strength was fury. His mind, his prison.
He sat on the bench for three hours. Breath after breath. He stared into the endless landscape and for the time being, his mind was clear.
He heard things today he hadn’t heard in weeks. The rustling of leaves, the wind against the side of the cabin, the melodic harmony of the birds. His ears were open because his mind was.
He was present.
He saw something. His mind had played tricks on him before. He put it out of his mind.
Day Eleven
He remembered her laugh He remembered his smile He remembered devotion He remembered what once was
She gave them to him She was selfless She was complex She was magnanimous She was the origin of love
It demolished him He was a shell He was heartsick He was gone Isolation
Day Twelve
He saw something. His mind had played tricks on him before. He knew better. He remembered.
He was where he wanted to be. He was where he had to be. He was not whole. Mortality fractured him.
It wasn’t something, it was someone. He saw someone. His mind delivering a cruel memento to his fragile psyche. This is why he was here.
He was still. He waited to see if he would come back. He knew he would. He didn’t know when, but he knew he would. His subtle anticipation cloaked in wretched despair.
He always saw him. He never saw her. Or her.
Day Thirteen
He had to make the journey at some point. He had to see people. He had to get supplies to sustain his off-the-grid lifestyle. He resisted.
The thought of interacting with a stranger was sickening. The thought of seeing someone from those childhood weekends was worse. They would ask questions. He would lie.
He stared at the sky. He learned about God but didn’t believe. He used to believe in himself. He no longer did. He was rudderless.
The sky stared back with curiosity. A life once so promising was now living in self-imposed isolation. He had his reasons. They were good reasons. Remoteness was what he needed.
Day Fourteen
He was there again. He was standing at the front door for the first time. His legs were immobile, but his arms were awake.
The screams were gone. This was a new scene. He willed his hand up to grab the door handle. It disappeared.
The screams started again. They pierced his soul. He was stuck. His arms no longer useful. He saw a shadow through the peephole. His body wouldn’t lean to give him the horrendous opportunity.
He opened his eyes. His forehead washed with sweat and sorrow. When would this stop? He hoped it didn’t stop. The destruction was his only attachment. He wouldn’t move today. He couldn’t. He would allow it.
Day Fifteen
Two weeks of isolation provided no solace. Misery pervaded every molecule of his being. He woke to muted clamor. Was it him again?
He was still muddled in confusion as he arose to unravel the commotion. The front door to the cabin was open. It meant nothing to him. He walked out and followed the sounds.
As he rounded the corner of the cabin he found the cause of the cacophony. It wasn’t him. He felt no relief. He felt lonelier. He felt lost.
If an animal, he expected a bear. Maybe a deer. But this was neither. He locked eyes with the little savage. It scattered. He moved closer to see what was the object of animal desire. It was a picture frame. It was him.
Day Sixteen
He knew this feeling. Debilitation pressed him down. The bed would comfort him until it passed. The covers would hold him as he pulled the pillow through himself. It was unavoidable.
He stared at the ceiling. He counted every crack on every wood beam. He tried not to close his eyes. He knew what he would see. So he stared.
Time stood still, but his memory could not. He thought so hard or tried not to. His eyes started to shut. He couldn’t resist his next destination.
He fought against where he would go. He didn’t want to see them today. He couldn’t. It was hopeless. He felt hopeless. He knew why he was here.
Isolation.
Day Seventeen
Close your eyes You will see me Don’t fear I am with you
Do you hear me when I speak to you each day? Do you think of me? Do you think of us? I know you do
Close your eyes You will see us Don’t fear We are with you Do you hear us when we play the game we used to play together?
Do you miss me? Do you miss us? I know you do I want you to talk to me talk to us We are here We are everywhere With you Forever
Day Eighteen
He heard her. She always talked to him. He listened. The sound of her voice hung in the air, ungraspable. He never wanted it to stop. But it stopped. She was gone. Taken from him. From them.
His days were empty. His mind full. Full of every smile, every conversation, and every argument. He would replay every horrible thing he ever said. He would beat himself up to no end about every syllable.
He couldn’t have known. It was all beyond his control, but that provided no solace to his inescapable pain. Pain that stung him at every turn. Pain that would never leave him. Pain that would define him.
He knew he wouldn’t make it through this. Not without them.
Day Nineteen
The day was coming. He was running out of supplies. He would need to make the trip. He thought about starving himself. He thought about riding it out until the world had no use for him. He didn’t realize the world did.
Tomorrow. It was always tomorrow. One more day to decide. Life or death. Sustenance or starvation. Hope or hate. Today was not the day to figure it out.
He sat on the bench and stared into the void. He stared into his past. Not them. Further back. It happened here. He relived it every time he had to go down there. He stopped. It didn’t matter now. He never thought he could be through worse. Now he knows. He wished it was him.
Day Twenty
He couldn’t do it any longer. His grip on the past was only getting tighter. He would never be free. They would never be. He belonged alone. Isolation.
This was too good for him. He wanted less. He wanted to punish himself. He wanted out. He wanted to go beyond isolation. He wanted to vanish from the planet.
He sprung up from catatonia and ran out of the house. With reckless abandon, he propelled himself toward the end. He couldn’t get there soon enough. One jump and it would all be over.
He dodged bushes and crashed through branches with no restraint. Today was the day it would all end. He made it to the last trail. There were exactly 344 steps left in his life.
344 Steps
He had counted them before. Just to know. For when the time came. When he could go on no longer. On his own. Without them.
So he ran today toward his destiny. Because he couldn’t save them. He was worthless. Of no consequence in the world.
Halfway to his future, a loud crash took over the area. It startled him. And stopped his certainty. Because he heard something else.
Life.
He stopped in his tracks. Why did this have to happen now? The goodness that lived deep inside of him, hidden and hated, was still present.
He knew it. He knew he couldn’t do it. Not today.
Day Twenty-One
He survived. But he woke wishing he hadn’t. For all the same reasons. But something was gently breathing air into his lungs. To help him live again.
He opened the front door and was enveloped with crisp air. It took him by surprise. Because it felt good. And nothing had felt good. He hated it. He closed the door.
He wouldn’t allow himself anything. It’s why he was here.
Isolation.
And so he sat. Completely still. For hours. With nothing in his head. Because he had thought of it all. And his own mind was rejecting his personal requests for more anguish.
For these hours. His head was clear.
Day Twenty-Two
Open your eyes You will see me Don’t be scared I am with you Always and Forever
I know you hear me I know you think of me I know you think of us We miss you Open your eyes You will see us Don’t be scared We are in you
Do you feel us when we feel you? Do you hear us when we speak to you? You are ok without us because we are with you Talk to me Talk to us We are you We are all around you Always and Forever
Day Twenty-Three
He hadn’t eaten in two days. The supplies were gone. He had to make a choice. To live. Or die.
To live he would have to leave isolation. It was the only way. And it wouldn’t be easy. That’s why he came here. He didn’t think he would have the will to survive.
One more day he thought. He could make it one more day. He will decide tomorrow. To live. Or die.
He didn’t know what he would decide. He had no reason to live. They were gone. But something had kept him alive for the last twenty-three days in isolation.
He just didn’t know what. He didn’t know that they needed him. And that he had a purpose.
Day Twenty-Four
It was too much to bear His heart fractured and his soul, his poor soul eviscerated to dust He could go on no longer Not without them The memories too vivid The dreams too real The life too lonely Isolation
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