Newborn

Chapter 35: The Demonstration

Aaron Hart

 “What’s so important you needed me to come over right now?” Maggie asks.  “Do you want to tell me more about how you and Day kissed?”

 “Not quite,” I say.

 “Well, I want to hang out with him some time.”

 “Don’t worry, I’ll get your approval before we become official.”

 “So, what’s this about?” Maggie asks.

 I’ve been practicing with the angel, and I can touch the light on my own.

 “I just haven’t seen you in a couple days,” I say.

 “I have my term study project for Biology due tomorrow,” she says.  She’s normally finished everything early.  We’re kind of opposites that way.

 “I thought you were done that.”

 “Believe it or not, trying to find clues about your mystic Sword of God is somewhat time consuming.”

 I don’t think Maggie really knows why she’s helping me with the search.  She’s doing it because I’m her friend and I seem convinced that this is something I need to do.  Part of her might be trying to prove that I’m not insane.  I don’t think she really believes she’s going to find something supernatural though.  I put forward a challenge to her, and she wants to solve it.  She wants to catch the glowing man, pull off his rubber mask, and find the perfectly rational explanation lying underneath.

 I can’t hold it in any more.  “The Sword is real,” I blurt out.  “And I think it might be powerful.”

 “What do you mean by powerful?” Maggie asks.  There is a small quiver in her voice.

 “I don’t really know, but the angel came back.  He’s been teaching me.  The light is real.”

 Maggie looks scared.  Her fear’s won out over her intrigue.  “Are you okay, Aaron?”

 “I’m better than I’ve ever been.” At first I couldn’t bear not feeling the light.  I felt cold and alone.  But I’ve been learning to reach out to it, to touch it.  The prospect of joining with it is consuming me.  It’s the thought of the warmth that lets me go on through the cold darkness of my current existence.  “Come downstairs,” I say.  “I have to show you something.”

 Maggie hesitates for a moment. “Okay,” she says.

 We go down to the basement.  I put a rock on the coffee table.  I tell Maggie to sit down with me.

 I want to prove to her that the light is real.  I want her to believe, so I’m going to levitate the rock.  I sit down and close my eyes.  I try to clear my mind.  I try to find peace and order within myself.  The light lies within a sense of total contentment.

 “What are you doing?” Maggie says.

 “Give me a second,” I say.

 “I gave you a second.  How long’s this going to take?”

 “Just wait.”  Maybe I’m not ready to find peace with Maggie sitting right beside me.

  “Should I close my eyes too?”

 “No,” I say.  But it would be great if she closed her mouth for a minute.  “I need a little bit of quiet.”

 I let go of the world.  Nothing matters.  I can’t worry about school or my family.  There’s nothing I have to do.  There’s nothing I should think about.  All that exists is this moment.  All that matters is finding the bliss in now.  I have to let go of everything.  I need to let go of Day and his smile.  I need to forget about Maggie and the fact that she is, in all likelihood, glaring at me trying to decide whether or not she should call a psychiatric facility.  I just need to let go and find bliss and peace.

 It’s not working.

 I need to stop trying to force it.  It will come on its own.  The thing about the light is that it isn’t just peace, there’s also a sense of bliss in it.

 I feel Maggie’s hand take mine.

 I feel the light running through both of us.  The light is everywhere.  It’s running through the air, and the table, and the rock.  I reach out to the rock.  I draw on its light, almost like pulling a string, and raise it into the air.

 I open my eyes and look over at Maggie.  She seems almost in awe.  She passes her hand bellow the rock, then above.  After circling it a couple times, she thinks for a moment and then moves the table.  The rock stays perfectly still.

 She looks at me.  “How are you doing this?” she asks, almost frightened. 

“It’s the light,” I say.  She doesn’t understand.  She can’t understand, but the light’s running through her.  I feel her hand in mine.  I can show her the light.  I begin to reach out.  I want her to feel what I feel.  I don’t understand that she’s only human.  My light can wash away her soul like a river running over a drop of water.

 “Stop it,” she says.  I don’t and she starts panicking.  She pulls her hand away, but we are still connected by the light.  “Stop it Aaron!” she screams.

 “Why?” I ask.  I feel distant, detached from the moment.  Why can’t she feel the light?  “I want you to feel what I feel.” 

 She’s crying.  I don’t understand why.  I’m trying to give her a gift.

 She’s crying.  I need to stop myself.  I pull my light away, and focus it elsewhere.  There’s a vase on the table.  I focus on it and it shatters.  I can feel all the pieces.  They’re in my mind and they just hover there.  I can’t even let myself look at Maggie.

 “I’m sorry,” I say.  I guess I can’t control the light as well as I thought.

 She looks at me and wipes off her tears.  “Are you okay?” she asks.  It’s amazing how fast people can forgive those they love when they’re worried about them.

 “Yes,” I say.  “I think you should go.”  My mind is still elsewhere.  I’m consumed by the light.

 Maggie stands up.  She stares at me for a moment and then leaves, shocked and afraid.  I lay back on the ground and let my consciousness expand.

  I am the light.