Fiction and Fantasy

The following is an excerpt from Beyond The Veil, a fantasy novel. The general premise is as follows:

As he contemplates the erratic patterns of the fireflies in the dim light of an autumn evening, Benjamin can not help but be underwhelmed by the confinement of his small world. Despite the warnings of his stepfather and the assurances of his mother that he has seen all the things in the world that are worth seeing, he follows the erratic pattern of fireflies to his boundaries, takes a deep breath, and crosses.

At the feet of the Monolith Mountains, under the opaque canopy of the forbidden forest of the Nevergreens, he finds that he was right. There is, in fact, more to the world. He enthusiastically follows the fireflies out towards that more, but the shadows on the path behind him swallow the light of his trail, and he watches with horror as they consume his home. He finds himself stranded in a world wholly unrecognizable from the vantage of his short and limited life.

The satisfaction in finding that the world is much bigger and much more incredible than he ever could have imagined comes at the cost of the familiar comfort of the small world he has always known, and his once youthful curiosity is soon eclipsed by the confrontation of things to fear. Lost and threatened by the malevolent mysteries of the strange places and things he never knew to be just beyond his bounds, he is set on a path in search of an abstraction. He ventures to find the single hope of making his way home and to return that home to the world that it was before his curiosity led to its demise. Benjamin sets out to find the secret that lies beyond the veil.

**Beyond the Veil is a quirky fable specifically for the aspiring artist, an exploration into the ether from which the impetus for art comes, and a tribute to the abandoned worlds that the artist leaves behind.**

Excerpt from Chapter 5: Life in the doldrums requires a malleable identity.

They made their way. Benjamin and Spinder had developed an almost perfect symbiosis. In the moments where Benjamin felt most confident in their way, Spinder would falter. The way was consequently unmade, and they would find themselves genuinely lost. Eura kept her distance, and Benjamin thought for sure it was partly of shame in not coming to his rescue when he most needed her. In fact, part of him wanted to shame her for abandoning him. Part of him wanted to berate her. To punish her in some way. But another part of him empathized. She was afraid of Spinder, and it was obvious as to why. Spinder was scary and she was just a tiny firefly. Benjamin wondered if Spinder was also fueled by her fear, small in stature as she was.

The path between their position and Eura's distant glow would become impassible from rough terrain or overgrown foliage or the shadows of animals with ambiguous intent. In Benjamin's worry over this, Spinder would regain his ability to waymake. He'd heft the obstacle, kill the animal, or carry Benjamin under one arm as he climbed impassible obstacles. When properly fueled by Benjamin’s apprehensions, there seemed to be no hurdle that was insurmountable for Spinder, the horrifying waymaker.

However, when they way was restored, their direction made sure again, and Benjamin's confidence returned in full that they would be alright, Spinder powered down, become a feeble shell of his imposing potential. Worry would return. The cycle would repeat.

It seemed to be a very inefficient way to navigate, but at least they were moving, and Spinder managed to have enough psychic fuel to function just fine without being a constant threat to Benjamin's safety. That's not to say his menacing threats and probing questions stopped, but they became more of an inevitable habit than a necessary function of purpose.

The way that Spinder made led them to a place stranger than any he'd seen so far in the 'nothing of interest to see'. He remembered neither coming upon this place nor the moment he first recognized its obscene strangeness. It wasn't a lapse in his memory exactly, but there was a missing distance between some arbitrary place that he thought of as 'before' and this place he was a part of 'now'.

In the distance, there was a tranquil lake. Above the lake was sky. In the sky, the silhouettes of the monolith mountains. The reflection of its peaks was breathtaking. The faint starlight showed imperfections in the lake's placidity. There were small wooden boats which floated aimlessly atop the water, spinning lifeless like dry leaves. Each small boat had exactly one passenger, and each passenger sat hunched, stiff and rigid with rigor. Each passenger was lit by the faint glow of a dimly pulsing firefly.

He did not recall coming upon this view, he simply found that this view was in front of him. In the same manner, he did not remember the moment that he first saw the two figures ahead of him. One of the two figures was Spinder, and one of the figures was Benjamin. Rather a Spinder, and a Benjamin. Yes, he watched himself walking forward in the same rhythm he himself was walking forward. He watched himself look back over his shoulder and perceive the him that looked ahead. He watched Spinder right his head with his large, taloned hands. A firefly, perhaps a Eura, danced around them at a safe distance. Part of him wanted to run and catch up. That part of him was certain that if he was able to join up and communicate with this other him, he would better be able to understand this strange and surreal experience. But an equally determined, cosmic force kept him at pace, pulling him forward towards the inevitability he was watching.

To give some sort of delineation to himself versus himself, he thought of the self that was doing the pondering as the proper form of Benjamin and man beside him the proper Spinder and the firefly that buzzed closest the proper Eura, while the figures he saw ahead were each respectively a common benjamin, spinder and eura. He was the Benjamin, while the other was just a benjamin. This almost made sense in his child mind.

Ahead, a eura lit a patch of red sand and it revealed to a benjamin and a spinder a thing in the shape of a boat on the shore. A benjamin boarded the boat and a spinder shoved off. That particular eura lit their way and her glow was emphasized by the reflective water. That benjamin looked down over the side of his boat and into the water that she lit, and as he did an impossible current tugged the small wooden boat forward and left a small wake. The soft waves lapped against the beach of red sand. The eura calmed the current by drawing back from the water and coming to rest on the benjamin's shoulder, where she pulsed in a comforting way. The current seemed to stop altogether, and the boat floated, gliding across the glassy surface by its momentum. It broke off of its sure course and veered into a shallow spin. The proverbial string that had been pulling it forward seemed to be cut.

Proper Benjamin watched with a disproportional lack of emotion as a spinder grabbed that benjamin's head in his hands and pushed it under water. The benjamin flailed, and the eura frantically darted around the scene. Benjamin felt eyes on him. He turned to see their source. He was less surprised than he should have been to see that there was another common benjamin and another common spinder walking behind them at a steady pace. A eura fluttered around, making a sort of perimeter for them. He felt maybe that he should stop and let them catch up. There was part of him that was certain if he was able to communicate with himself, he would better be able to understand this strange and surreal experience. But an equally determined cosmic force kept him at pace, pulling him forward. As if to ensure this inevitability, he felt the echo of what he’d witness moments ago as Spinder's large, mangled hands twisted his head to face the proper, destined direction.

As he refocused on the lake, the benjamin that had been drowning was nowhere to be seen. The small boat had disappeared. It was out there somewhere, but it had joined with the others. They were all indistinguishable from each other now, each carrying a lifeless spinder, barely lit by a eura ember. He couldn't count how many spinders in boats there actually were. He supposed that the number could have been infinite.

They came to the beach. Here, the sand had a distinctly red tint. Spinder explained that the way was straight. Benjamin suggested that they go around the lake. Spinder replied that around was not the way. It was all very mechanical. They both seemed to know what to expect next. They had, after all, seen it. So neither was surprised when Eura became brave and joined them. She lit a patch of red sand that, in her light, revealed the presence of a small wooden boat.

Benjamin made a suggestion, and with much less apprehension than was probably warranted. He suggested that they take the boat across. Spinder, in his sadistic manner, asked if it frightened him knowing he would be drowned to death in the lake. And though it did, he felt only resignation. He implicitly understood that there was no avoiding it. This is what happened. It simply was. He hoped that the next benjamin perceived things differently, and that somehow this wasn't the way for him, but for Benjamin proper, his first foot was already in the boat.

Spinder pushed off with his spindly legs and then joined. Though he was so much taller, the balance of the boat indicated that their weight was evenly distributed. This could possibly have been attributed to Spinder's emaciation, but Benjamin didn't think so. It was a symptom of what he didn't understand about this place. It was a clue.

Eura came to rest on the bow of the boat. She pulsed in an average way. He thought to ask her what was happening, but for the life of him he could not think of a single question that he could ask that would invite yes or no as an answer. The only possible answers were long and contrived from a million minds.

As the boat slowed from Spinder's original push off, Eura lit their way. Benjamin glanced into her light and saw his own reflection. With a moment of panic, he knew the reflection to be untrue; the angle was all wrong. What he saw was not his own reflection, but instead a drown benjamin just beneath the surface. In fact, as Eura skimmed the surface of the water he saw distorted traces of many drown benjamins, all submerged and unable to come back up. They were dead. And he knew how they died. He had seen it. He had been an involuntary voyeur to the tragic act.

His panic was the wind that drove the current. Their boat was pulled forward. Just as he had seen, just as was bound to be. This was not a surprise. He understood how the way was made. His fear and worry and woe was helping Spinder waymake, because he was the Waymaker, and that is how Spinder the Waymaker worked. Just as Benjamin was the stupid child, and he worked as helpless and naive and ignorant of the whole truth. Just as Eura glowed for yes and darkened for no. Just as Gadbeau was not there. Just as...no, that was all. Spinder and Benjamin and Eura and not Gadbeau. It sure seemed like there was more, though. And not only because of the bobbing benjamins and dead spinders on the floating boats. They no longer mattered, after all. It just felt that there was one more that mattered. And that one more could, perhaps, alter the balance of the way of things.

Eura floated up from the water, obscuring Benjamin's distorted and dead reflections. She came to land on his hand, but that seemed wrong somehow. She was to land on his shoulder, because that is what calmed him. This was different. To land upon his hand was a gamble. Benjamin couldn't understand why she'd chosen his hand. It was as if, perhaps, she also sensed that something was amiss. There was a striation in this event's iteration. Perhaps his boat had caused a wave that had met with the wave of the boat belonging to the benjamin who went ahead of him. Maybe the two waves met at their apex and doubled in amplitude. Maybe this larger wave blew an imperceptible breeze, which caused Eura to flap her wings just a bit harder than her former iteration. Maybe her struggle tired her into flying the least bit lopsided, making his hand an easier and closer target to glide to. Maybe this slight change wasn't unique to his personal version. Maybe each iteration of benjamin-spinder-eura had its own unique change, each seeking the minute detail that was capable of altering the eventuality. Not out of concern for Benjamin or Spinder or Eura or the quest that bound them, but out of the natural order of entrpy. For that, too, was inescapable. In their attempt at perfection, further iterations lost cohesion. The more details there were, the more chance there was to muck it up.

In the end it didn't matter. Now that the horrors of what was floating in the water were hidden from sight, Eura’s soothing pulse calmed his fear. He tried again to think of what it was that was missing. What large factor did he not see?

The current that had been pulling the boat along seemed to stall. The water was still. Their boat listlessly drifted.

Spinder reminded him that it was his job to make the way. Benjamin knew how the way was made.

He felt Spinder's hand shove his head into the water and pin him there. He flailed and kicked, but Spinder was solid. The hand that had once so easily ripped through metal mesh now held him under the surface.

And as he faded, he wasn't afraid. He should have been, but he wasn't. Why wasn't he afraid?

Spinder plucked him up out of the water and apologized for his action. He explained at length in his most polite way how Benjamin's suffering was necessary in order to waymake. Then he plunged his head back under. He knew the monster would accidentally kill him in a futile attempt at trying to mine for despair. At that knowledge, Benjamin struggled reflexively. He certainly didn't want to die. But his struggle against the monster was not out of fear. Perhaps it was that his limbs were caught up in the same force that had pulled him towards the inevitable in the first place. Whatever the case, the cause for his thrashing could not fuel Spinder's need.

As he inhaled water through his nose and his body began to shut down, he had a final realization. In his final moment, he was forced to face one of the dead benjamins. Soon his body would be like this; a container that once had supported life. A container and nothing more. His body gave up. He passed.

While disconnecting from his container, his mind offered one last observation. It was one that made no sense, but it was the one that he knew to be correct.

He was not, nor had he ever been, Benjamin.