Dear Ellie,
This story has been in the works for many months, now. It was a nascent story when I mentioned it
here. I've thought about it often but it's been incredibly hard to finish because I began it on the night you almost suffocated. On the night I thought you were gone. I wanted to somehow capture all of the terrible things I felt that night, but also the joy of having known you for those short 6 weeks. I remember looking at you in your isolette after you'd turned all of those deathly shades. That little body, within which appeared only the tiniest spark of life. I felt like it could, and would, disappear at any moment. It felt like the final grains of sand in an hour glass were trickling out.
I remember how I searched my mind. Like if I thought hard enough, I could find some place outside of time where I could nestle those last moments with you. Like I could make or find some tiny space where that moment could live forever.
-------------------------------------------
The moon was a tiny sliver in the night
sky. The barrier between worlds grew
weak. Elsa and Fredrick set off to the place where time itself was tattered. In search of the immortals.
“It’s only a story Elsa. A good story, but I don’t think it was ever
meant to be taken seriously,” Fredrick said as they made their way from
town. He kicked a rock free from the
cobblestone road. Elsa looked back at
the boy, still wobbly on his feet since she’d hauled him from his bed in the
dead of night. She could have made the
journey alone. She was the braver of the
two, after all. And, well, if not
braver, than at least more ambitious.
“It wasn’t just a tall tale. My grandpa believed it,” Elsa said, her voice
lightly seasoned with resentment at her friend’s doubt. “He was an astronomer at Occitan! If anyone were to tell the truth about
something like this, it would be him. He
would have gone with us if he were still alive.”
“I’d like his stories to be true,
too. No one enjoyed them more than
me. But even if they were true, what
would we do once we got there?”
Elsa rolled her eyes, “Oh, I don’t
know, what would we do if we met an
immortal? We wouldn’t ask him the secret
of eternal life, would we?”
“Do
you really think it would be that simple?
That we’d march in, grab the secrets of eternal life, then be back in
bed by sun up?”
Elsa threw up her hands.
“Who knows, Fredrick, but isn’t it
worth trying? Think about it. Immortality.
Imagine what you could do in a thousand lifetimes! We would be famous in all the world!”
At first, Fredrick didn’t
reply. Instead, he stopped. Sat down.
The light from the town’s streetlamps were pale in the distance. He looked up at the sky. At the planets. He compared them to the night before and the
night before that and the night before that.
He saw them, as though sped up a thousand times, looping about in slow
motion epicycles.
He looked up at Elsa and wondered
aloud: “Do you think that maybe one lifetime is enough to live?”
Elsa wrinkled her nose as though
smelling something unpleasant, “What a silly thing to say, Fredrick. Of course it isn’t. Why wouldn’t you want more years to live?”
Fredrick rolled over to a smoother
patch of grass.
“What are you doing?” Elsa
asked. “Why are you laying there? You can’t be tired already.”
“I’m enjoying the moment. Admiring the stars,” he replied.
Elsa opened her mouth to admonish
him again, but stopped short. Instead,
she watched him. Admired him, perhaps,
in the same way that he admired the
stars. Something stirred in her and for
a moment, it was so easy to imagine herself lying down beside him, both looking
up; lying beside the boy that all the townsfolk joked she’d one day marry.
“So different you are, but so
inseparable!” they would all say, and then Elsa would deny that any affection
existed between the pair. But what did
it mean that she always found herself hauling Fredrick out of bed in the dead of
night to go on some adventure? Why was
it that she always wanted to do everything with him? Her heart fluttered.
But then she saw the light of the moon,
even smaller than before. She remembered
their mission. They didn’t have time for
these kinds of distractions. Soon, the
moon would be swallowed entirely and they’d lose their chance. She shook her head at her companion’s delays.
“Oh Fredrick, you simpleton. Don’t you get it? Here you are sitting around admiring one moment while a hundred others pass
you by.”
Elsa lit her lantern, smudging out
the twinkling pin pricks of light up above.
“Come on,” she said. “Tonight, we’re going to meet the immortals. We’ll have plenty of time to look at the
stars, then.”
Fredrick measured her words
carefully, nodded, then stood up. They moved
onward, the light from the lantern casting their long shadows out upon the road
behind them. Eventually, the
cobblestones came to an end. In the
distance ahead of them was a field, and beyond, the silhouette of a tree line
in the distance.
They trudged through the
grasslands and when they came to the edge of a forest, Fredrick hesitated.
“Elsa, if you think your
grandfather was telling the truth about the immortals,” he began, “do you think
he was also telling the truth about Fey?”
Elsa halted, one foot frozen in
the air.
“Maybe,” she said simply, the
confidence in her voice faltering. “Why
does it matter?”
“The shadow creatures, Elsa,”
Fredrick whispered. “He said that when
Fey is close, light will attract them.
We have to turn off the lantern.”
For the first time, fissures of
worry and uncertainty formed on Elsa face.
She turned her head so that Fredrick couldn’t see her expression. Elsa was always keen on the idea of the
immortals, but not so much on the reason they
existed... and all the frightening things which came with it. According to her grandfather’s story, a
second world existed atop their own, occupying the same space but out of
phase. A world he called Fey. And between their world and Fey was a
peculiar place. A bubble between worlds that time skims around,
like water around a boulder in a river. Immortals
existed in this place, and to speak with them might be to learn the secrets of
immortality. This place, her grandfather
determined, was deep in the forest. Reaching
it could only be done at just the right time when the two worlds were closest. When the moon and stars and planets were all
close enough to weaken the barrier between worlds.
“You memorized the instructions
from your grandfather’s story, didn’t you?” Fredrick asked. “We’ll have to turn the lantern off once
we’re in the forest. It will be too dark
to read them from paper.”
Elsa reached into her pocket. Rubbed a parchment between her fingers. It was all too common when they were younger
for Elsa to bound away before her grandfather could finish his stories. But Fredrick?
He always waited patiently for the tales to conclude, relishing each and
every detail.
“Of… of course I do,” Elsa
stuttered. “He was my grandfather, after
all. But shouldn’t you know, too? You sat around the fire in the town square
and listened just as often as I did.”
“I remember,” Fredrick said, giving
Elsa a knowing grin. He then recited the
instructions from memory. “Walk two thousand
paces into the forest, no more, no less.
Walk too far and you will enter the world of Fey and be lost. Fail to walk far enough, and the gateway will
disappear by the time the moon is black.
But beware if you should make the journey, for as readily as you might
wander into Fey, the creatures of Fey may wander into our world as well. They will
appear to you as shadows, darker than the night. Creatures, like moths, attracted to light.”
The lantern was stiff in Elsa’s
hands. Could the creatures of Fey see
them now, even if Elsa and Fredrick hadn’t entered the forest yet? The glow from the lantern flickered and
licked at the trees. As it spawned
shadows, Elsa’s eyes darted after them, wondering whether they were instead creatures
of Fey. She wanted to douse the flame,
but then imagined the two of them, standing alone on the darkest of nights.
“Are you sure you want to continue,
Elsa?” Fredrick asked.
“I…” Elsa trailed off. “Well, I don’t want to make you do this. We can go back if you don’t want to go. If you are afraid.”
Fredrick reached out. Took her hand. Again, her heart fluttered. Perhaps from fear of what lie before them,
perhaps from something else.
“I am. And I know you are, too. But that’s okay. I’ll go with you because I know this is
important to you,” Fredrick said, then smiled at her in the lantern light. “Besides, I think that maybe the creatures of
Fey might be just as afraid as us.”
He took the lantern from her hand
and doused it. Then they took the first step
forward. And then a second. And a third.
Each step, they counted carefully.
Keeping track was harder than she first thought. The limbs above them were dimly lit by the
sliver of moon, but beneath the canopy was utter darkness. Vines and branches lashed at their faces and
legs.
By one hundred steps, they were
quickly swallowed by the sounds of the forest.
Hooting owls. Chirping
insects. Muffled movement in the
underbrush. This didn’t frighten Elsa, for
these were the sounds of their world.
But then there came a thing. Not a dashing or a sprinting thing. A slow, lumbering thing that moved in such a
way that it could only be passing through the dense trees that surrounded them. That Elsa could see it in such darkness was a
perversion of her senses. To see it was
like seeing a hole. Like seeing a hole
bored through color itself. And then it
made a sound. A sound like a belch or a
groan, but inverted, turned upside down.
Hearing it felt like sound was leaving
her ear instead of entering. To sense it at all was like having something…
pulled from her.
Elsa panicked. She released Fredrick’s hand and covered her
ears. Closed her eyes. Squatted on the ground. Waited for the thing to attack her. To haul her back to Fey and be surrounded by
such shadows. Yet nothing happened. She wanted to call out Fredrick’s name, but
feared that the creatures might hear her.
She wanted to reach for his hand, but feared that she might instead
grasp one of them.
Was Fredrick trying to call for
her, while her ears were covered? Or had
he fled the forest in fright? Or was he
simply cowering like her?
Once Elsa finally discovered the
courage to stand, a hand touched her shoulder.
Her hand found Fredrick’s again. At
first, their grip was loose. Part of
Elsa hoped that Fredrick’s hand would pull her away. Back to the forest’s edge and back to town. Instead, it clenched around hers. Pulled her forward. They continued on.
As they went further--- as
100 steps became 200 and then 500 and then 1000--- more of the creatures began
to appear. A dozen holes in Elsa’s
senses. The creatures hovered around
them. Moved in closer when their backs
were turned, only to flee when Elsa looked over her shoulder in the
darkness. She began to look behind
herself so often that when they had one more pace to go, she barely noticed the
vast wall of emptiness that lay ahead of them.
A vast pit in existence.
“One last step,” Fredrick
whispered. He tried to pull Elsa forward
but she resisted. “The moon is almost
gone. We don’t have any more time. Elsa, if the Fey creatures exist then the
immortals must as well. We’ll go in, ask
of their secrets, and then we can go home.”
“We don’t know for sure
what’s in there. Maybe my grandfather
was wrong. Maybe there are no
immortals,” Elsa said, her voice hushed and quivering. “You said that one life was good enough, so
why are you pushing me on?”
Fredrick didn’t speak. They stood before the wall of shadow, darker
than darkness. Their arms were taught
now, caught between Elsa’s dug-in heels and Fredrick’s weight, leaning forward.
Elsa couldn’t see Fredrick,
but for a moment his grip loosened, his fingers tenderly wrapped around
hers.
“What do you think it will
be like for us,” Fredrick said softly, “to be with each other as immortals,
forever?”
Elsa’s legs buckled,
surprised at hearing his words. His
weight pulled them both forward.
Before them, the wall of
darkness was no more. Behind them, their
own world was gone. They stood amid a
glade, surrounded by pines. Above them,
the moon was full. Around them,
everything shimmered. Danced, almost,
like light in the ripples of a pond. The
stars twinkled at a strange beat, quickly, then slowly, quickly, then
slowly. The full moon did little to
drown out their glow. Elsa and Fredrick stood
still and silent for a long while, trying hard to comprehend the strangeness of
this place. To Elsa, it felt as though
she were looking out upon the world from a dream.
The boy and the girl finally
turned to face one another. Their cheeks
and foreheads were cut and bleeding from their trek through the woods.
“We’re here, we must
be. The place between worlds. The place without time.” Elsa said, her
expression of daze and disbelief finally melting. Then she looked in her companion’s eyes. Into the eyes of the boy that was made happy
by her happiness.
They stood for a moment at
the center of the glade, amid a field of flowing grass. Though there was no wind, the blades swayed
as though pulled by some current. Even
though neither of them knew how much time they had, Elsa took a deep
breath. Ran her hand through the grass.
She looked to Fredrick and
whispered, “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
Fredrick smiled. He did the same, then said, “This close to
immortality and you’ve stopped to enjoy the moment?”
Elsa smiled back, but her
expression turned to alarm as something flitted past them in the grass. It looked like a small animal, only the size
of a hare, but its entire body was luminous and blinking. Light, then dark. Light, then dark. It moved like a ribbon blown in the
wind. Each time it changed course, it
changed color as well. It stopped a few
paces ahead of them. Waited for
them.
“Is it one of the
immortals?” Elsa whispered, not knowing whether she was speaking to Fredrick or
the creature.
Neither of them replied.
Elsa took a step toward it.
It flitted ahead, further.
Elsa and Fredrick followed.
It took them to a small
stream. When it crossed, the creature
traveled through the air in small arcs, landing on flat stones, barely above
the water line. Elsa and Fredrick retraced
its steps, stopping briefly in the middle of the stream to dip their hands in
the water and wash their cuts. As the
blood left their hands, it swirled about in tiny eddies, hardened, turned to
glitter, then flashed: Light, then dark, light, then dark.
The creature took them up a
hill to a grove of towering pines, taller than any that Elsa or Fredrick had
seen in their own world. Their limbs
were broad and twisted; their bark, thick and gnarled like a fingernail that
had never been trimmed. Were the trees
here immortal as well? When Elsa and Fredrick
arrived at the center of the grove, they encountered other creatures waiting
for them, their shape in the guise of men and women. They twinkled as well. Light, then dark. Light, then dark.
Fredrick and Elsa looked to
one another, unsure of what to say. Amid
their silence, one of the creatures spoke in a language they seemed to
understand. It twinkled with each
syllable.
“You came… from the higher
world. The world… of light,” it
said. “Some of us… have come from the
world of light, also. Some… from the
world of dark. In this place, we have
all become the same now. Light… and dark. I, like you, once came from light. I am the youngest here... Young enough to remember swift words. Young enough, even… to remember my name from
before my crossing… LyreLein… It is easy
to forget swift words and one’s name as the ages drift past you... The other immortals speak… but to finish a
sentence would take a hundred years.”
Fredrick and Elsa exchanged
excited expressions.
“Hello LyreLein,” Elsa said,
her tone, reverent. “You must be the
immortals. We have come looking for
you.”
“Looking… for us?” LyreLein
asked. “No one has yet come looking for
us. Those you see here… we were all lost
when we found this place. Many beings
come here by accident. Most must leave…
but some stay. What brought you?”
“We have come to learn the
secrets,” Elsa said. “We wanted you to
teach us the secrets of immortality. We
want to become immortal, like you, so that we can be important people when we
return to the world of light.”
LyreLein hovered silently. Motionless.
He remained that way for minutes.
And then, perhaps, for hours. On
a number of occasions, Elsa stirred and made a motion as though to address him
again, but each time Fredrick gripped her wrist or shoulder gently and put his
finger in front of his lips: “Shhhh…”
Elsa eventually sat down. The
full moon began to dip down in the sky.
On the eastern horizon, the sky began turning brighter hues. Would Elsa and Fredrick be cast from this
place upon sunrise? Or trapped?
It was impossible to
discern LyreLein’s thoughts, to discern an expression from the wreath of light
where his face was supposed to be.
Still, it seemed as though he was weighing her words, all the
while.
“Yes,” LyreLein said at
last. “We can show you such secrets… but
be warned, it is not a thing for everyone...”
Elsa jumped to her feet and
replied, “Right for us? How will you
determine whether it is right for us? A
test?”
“Just questions,” LyreLein
said. “Just three… simple… questions. For both of you...”
“Yes, we’ll do whatever you
ask,” Elsa said hurriedly.
LyreLein was quiet for a
moment. They could not see that he had
any eyes, but it felt almost as though he were shifting his gaze between the
two of them. First to the girl that was
quick to speak. Then to the boy: the
quiet observer.
“I will ask the first
question now,” LyreLein said, “…and girl, you will be the first to answer.”
Elsa nodded.
“Look about you, girl… at
the ancient pines. There is Yargel at
the fore… and Yenyaou not far behind…
Rantalou at the edge of the grove, who’s limbs reach all the way to the
stream… When you look at them, what do
you see?”
Elsa put her finger to her
chin as she gazed up at the canopy.
”I see sentinels, mighty and
majestic. Born in a time that few can
remember.”
LyreLein twinkled, as
though nodding. He turned to Fredrick.
“And you boy... When you look upon their trunks, what do you
see?”
Fredrick gazed up at the
canopy as well. Put his hand to the bark
of Yenyaou, then squinted past them and into the distance.
“I see children. Grandchildren,” Fredrick said at last,
sweeping his hand around him and then pointing to a colossal stump near the
stream. “The grandchildren of that
ancient pine, who returned to the earth so long ago. Perhaps she perished before this place ever
budded away from the worlds of light and dark. She remains there still as rotting wood, for sometimes
the death of a tree can last even longer than its life.”
LyreLein did not acknowledge
their answers. He said simply: “Follow
me…”
They left the grove and
came again to the stream. He brought
them to the middle--- to the widest section--- and asked his second question:
“Girl, look upon these waters… Tell me
what you see...”
Elsa turned her head to the
left and to the right, upstream and down.
“I see water rushing toward
the ocean. I see a basin for weary
travelers. I see the home of water
creatures that live and thrive and breed.”
“And you, boy?...” LyreLein
asked. “What do you see?”
Fredrick looked long and
hard. He hopped upstream, from rock to
rock, until he had a broad view of the stream running through the glade. Once he’d returned to where LyreLein and Elsa
stood, he spoke: “I see a vast snake slithering across the landscape. A snake that whips and cuts through the hills
and prairies, each flick of its tail taking an eon. Hungry is this snake. As hungry as it is patient. With enough time it will even swallow
mountains: earth, metal, and all.
Again, LyreLein did not
acknowledge their answers. He said
simply: “Follow me…”
LyreLein led them toward
the grassland. Elsa and Fredrick trailed
behind a short distance. Elsa peeked at
Fredrick through the corner of her eye.
He seemed so focused now.
Determined even. And his answers
were far different than hers. Between
the two of them, surely, the immortals would tell them their secrets. But there was still a thing that Elsa didn’t
understand.
“Fredrick,” Elsa said,
nibbling at her lower lip. “I was
wondering about something. About what
you said when we took the last step into this place. About… the two of us, being together as
immortals.”
Fredrick glanced at her
bashfully, but didn’t say anything.
“Please Fredrick...” Elsa said, pressing for an answer.
“Well, we’ve always done
everything together since we were both very little. Everyone in town always said that it would
just keep going on that way until the day we died. They said that we’d be married one day. I know that maybe you didn’t believe it, but…
I always did.”
Elsa blushed as though it
were some novel thought, even though some part of her knew it as well. She realized, then, that whenever she
imagined her future, Fredrick was there, right in the middle of all the things
to come.
“At first, I was reluctant
to come along,” Fredrick said, looking down at the long grass. “I wouldn’t have gone if it had been with
anyone but you. I didn’t think there
were any immortals and even if there were, immortality wasn’t something that I
wanted. But when we were on the road
from town, I had a thought. It was when
I was looking up at the stars and the planets.
If your grandfather’s stories about immortality were true and we could both live forever, then there would never be
a reason to rush anywhere. You would
never have to worry about the moments that were passing you by because there
would always be time in the future to catch back up with them, again. You could sit in the grass with me and watch
the stars until we had seen all there was to see of them. Together.
To me, life was never about stuffing experiences into it. It was about timeless moments. With you.”
Elsa’s eyes stung.
“Fredrick, I…” Elsa said,
trailing off. She reached out for his
hand. Touched his palm gently with her
fingers and pressed her thumb into his knuckles. She tried to swallow her pride, to say that
she was sorry for all the cruel things she’d ever said to him, but with a
thousand lifetimes, wouldn’t they have plenty of time to make such things right,
later?
“We are here,” LyreLein
said. The three of them stood amid the
field, “I have your final question. Girl… look up.
Look upon the denizens of the sky.
What do you see?”
Elsa stared skyward. Her mind was blank. She thought of all the times she had seen
Fredrick at night. All of the times his
head was turned up. All of the times she
should have been beside him, looking up as well. What might she see, what might she say, if
she had joined him?
“I… I don’t know,” Elsa uttered. “A million points of light. A million mysteries, waiting to be seen by
those with the patience to see them.”
LyreLein watched her. Weighed her.
Judged her.
“And boy?...” he
spoke. “What do you see?”
Fredrick was hesitant. He looked to Elsa, his eyes betraying some
concern that Elsa didn’t understand.
“Uhm,” Fredrick muttered,
glancing up. “Just… just stars. That’s all I see.”
For the first time,
LyreLein sounded displeased: “That is not in keeping… with what you have
spoken, before. It is not in keeping…
with the content of your soul. I would
implore you to answer honestly. Or you
will fail to understand.”
Fredrick gritted his
teeth. He glared at LyreLein, “But sir
immortal, you haven’t been honest
with us, have you?”
There was silence. The three stared at one another.
“There are no immortals
walking the world of light,” Fredrick said.
“I have never seen them, never heard of them. And there are probably no immortals walking
the world of Fey, either. There never
have been. There are only immortals here.
There can only be immortals
here.”
LyreLein didn’t respond. Elsa grew worried. As Fredrick spoke, she began to understand.
“LyreLein, you immortals don’t
get to choose who goes and who stays either, do you? You don’t have any secrets to give us. It’s this place. It decides.
And those it chooses it also keeps.”
“What?” Elsa blinked. “Is this true, LyreLein?”
His silence answered for
him.
“Then why?” she
wondered. “Why ask us these questions?”
“Because…” LyreLein began,
speaking ever more slowly and deliberately, “the answers you give… reveal to you
the way that you are. Your nature. Your essence.
How your mind perceives time. It
also determines… whether you go and whether you stay. When the time comes, you and the boy will be
torn from each other. It will be soon,
and I want you both to understand… Girl,
I want you to understand why you will go home as a mortal… and he will stay
here, as an immortal.”
“No!” Elsa shrieked,
snatching up Fredrick’s hand. “You can’t
do this! I can’t leave him! I don’t care about your immortality! I’ll die here, that’s fine, just don’t send
me back!”
“It’s not a decision… we
can make. We are just… spectators. This place… decides. It keeps those who see far enough and long
enough. Those with patience. Those who are not of this nature? They are returned to where they came from. Only the far seeing mind can endure the ages… Minds like yours, girl? They are tuned to the world of light and the
world of dark. To dwell in this place
for even the first hundred years… would drive you mad. This, I think, is why it will reject you… and why it will accept him. I’m sorry.
I don’t know how much time you have together still… but it is surely
growing short.”
“There must be a way back
for me. To forfeit immortality if I so
choose,” Fredrick said. “I don’t
need it. I never wanted it. Not unless it was with her.”
“There is no choice…”
LyreLein said. “I was like you once. I had no desire for immortality. I was kept unwillingly… I’m sorry.”
“No,” Elsa whispered, tears
pooling in her eyes. She turned her head
to the ground. Not knowing whether their
last moment together would end suddenly, words began to sputter out. “Fredrick, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I brought us here. I’m sorry for the times I’ve been impatient
with you. The times where I was
cruel. I’m sorry I never savored all of our
moments together. I just always thought
that we’d have more time.”
Fredrick raised her head
with his hands. Looked into her eyes,
his moist as well.
“I lied,” he said. “After we left town I told you that one life
seemed like it should be enough. But
that’s not what I wanted to say. I
wanted to say that one life with you
seemed like it should be enough.”
Elsa threw herself against
him, tears spilling down her cheeks.
“The life you have left
together perhaps is long enough,” LyreLein said. “Look at us, the immortals. Ours lives will burn longer than the stars. Aren’t the lives of mortals… just seconds in
comparison to our own? A mortal’s life
will always end. A second or a minute or
an hour are all tiny when compared to the lifetime of the cosmos. You have a now, children... perhaps
that is enough.”
At that, Fredrick took both
of Elsa’s hands. Without speaking, they
danced together. Swayed with the grass, as
though pulled by the same eternal tide that pulled it as well. It became hard to tell how long they
danced. Elsa stopped thinking of how
much time they had left. She forgot of
the things they would never do, together.
With her head on his
shoulder, she gazed up at the sky. She
whispered, slowly, patiently, of what she saw.
Answered the final question.
“Look at the planets,
Fredrick. As days and months and years
pass by, they dance like us. Dance and
swirl in looping circles amid billions of tiny lanterns. And were we to watch long enough? Watch for a million years? The stars themselves would waltz across the
sky.”
And so Elsa didn’t notice
when eddies of blinking color enveloped Fredrick’s arms and legs. She didn’t notice the pulse of his body. Light, then dark. Light, then dark. She didn’t notice when time skimmed around him
like water around a boulder in a river. She
didn’t notice as the sun began to rise and the moon began to set, like the
final grain of sand trickling from an hour glass. It didn’t matter. One life, one day, one second with Fredrick was
enough to live.
As she savored that simple
moment with him, her mind could assign it no span of time. Untethered from a “before” or an “after,” the
moment drifted away freely. And so long after Elsa found herself standing alone in the forest, long after she returned to the town, long after she lived a long and fruitful life, long after she had died and her deeds were forgotten, that moment lived on in some immortal place.
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