HUMAN SPIRIT

HUMAN SPIRIT; Ch. 4

They were walking through the woods behind Julius’ house. It was a long, solemn walk; the birds were chirping, deep in contrast with Julius’ darkened mood. He didn’t think it at first, but the more he imagined himself dumping the urn over the cliff, the more he felt like it was a bad idea. Somewhere in the pit of his heart, a small fire burned, urging him to keep it. But Julius, ready to put all of those illusions behind him, trudged on, wanting to forget. Caraway walked behind him, maybe seven feet back. The urn was now on Caraway’s shoulder.

“So, uh, what are we doing, anyway?” Caraway asked. As friendly as he was, he wasn’t stupid; he wanted to know the plan. Julius, who hadn’t taken his eyes off the forest ahead of him, broke from thought when hearing Caraway’s voice.

“We’re dumping it over a cliff,” he responded.

“A cliff?” Caraway asked, still walking. “Why?” Julius turned his head to the side, looking at Caraway in his peripheral.

“Let’s just say it holds bad memories, alright?”

“Alright. I’m just saying, it’s a nice urn-- I don’t understand why you’d want to get rid of it,” Caraway expressed. Julius just sighed and kept walking. Caraway started humming a tune as they stepped over rocks and vines and soil, and eventually, they made it to the lake, which was as calm as ever.

“We’re here,” Julius said, and Caraway set the urn down on the ground beside him.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Caraway asked. He wanted to ask more, like the reasoning behind Julius’ desire to throw it in the water, but it apparently contained bad memories, which weren’t something to tamper with. Caraway himself had bad memories as well, and he could only feel empathy for Julius’ behavior. 

“Positive,” Julius responded, yet he was still uncertain. His lip quivered at the sight of the water, which seemed to go on forever, eventually merging with the blue sky above him. Infinity, in truth, terrified Julius. And looking out into the water on a day as perfect as this made Julius see infinity in its most natural form. Wanting to get it over with, then, he stepped over to the urn and picked it up. By the edge of the cliff, he held the sides of the urn with both hands, preparing to swing it into the water.

But suddenly, a strong wind blew to the left, and Julius put his foot back to catch himself from falling. He very briefly turned around for Caraway, only to find that he was all alone. The wind died down a little, but it was still brisk and cool; it made him shiver. Grey clouds rolled around and covered the sky above him. As the water grew rampant, he remembered his dream all those nights ago. In the chasm, with water dying to escape its prison. Julius’ heart started pumping, and he breathed a little faster. What was happening? Why was it happening to him? He wanted to leave this place, to go back home and just curl in bed, but no. This unforgiving world wouldn’t let him. It would torment Julius endlessly, it seemed.

Urn still in hand, Julius knew what he had to do. In the next moment, with a hoarse battle cry, he threw the urn over the side of the cliff and into the lake, but the lid did not falter; it stayed on, effectively keeping the sand inside the urn. As it hit the water, the sound of lightning deafened his ears, and white light made him go blind temporarily.

But he could still hear. Could still feel, could still smell. The scent of rain vanished, and the wind disappeared as if it hadn’t been there at all. Birdsong met his ears, and his sight returned.

A revelation occurred: nothing that took place in that moment actually happened. He stood there, urn in hand, on the edge of the cliff. He would’ve been angry, but dark black spots started to cover his eyesight.

“What’s wrong?” Caraway asked, seeing that Julius was hesitant in dumping the urn. But it was too late; Julius started to drift off, dropping the urn on the ground and fainting.