The Beautiful Blue Mist

Written: 1992   |   Setting: Unknown   |   909 words   |   5 Minutes minute read

1.

Traveling down a long, dark corridor, a candle is my only light. The tiny flame sends a ghostly glow out ahead of me. The damp darkness, almost foggy, sends a shiver down my spine as I wait for what lurks beyond. The unknown lies ahead, so calming and confusing, frightening and soothing. I want to turn back and run to a haven of security, avoiding all of the softly maddening emotions. I never turn…

The melancholy feeling drifts over all. I am lost within this vacant atmosphere of hazy repose and overshadowed panic. A deep sorrow starts from within and radiates out from a mere mortal soul. It appears to affect everything and send it into a shadowy limbo. A beautiful blue mist falls everywhere. I can feel the gentle rainfall. It mixes with the warm tears as they travel down my face…

The candle burns bright in the pouring rain. My feet never touch the ground. I seem to be floating down this continuous stretch of rock. The sides of the tunnel have small burrows in which lie the remnants of those long dead. I am lost in another world, like a perpetual cave of the Roman catacombs. Most of the crudely carved cavities contain decaying skeletal remains so deprived of moisture for so long, they turn to powder in the breeze. It all gathers dampness in the beautiful blue mist.

My feet still hover over the ground. Maybe it’s always been this way, I can’t remember. My tears are still falling, just like the mist. They began when the fading memory of a loved one entered my mind. Why is everything so sudden in the beautiful blue mist?

My feet slowly touch the ground, an unexpected feeling. As though I am lowered from the drifting anxiety onto the cool, gritty unevenness. The water of the tiny puddles rises between my toes and makes me smile. But the tears still fall, like the mist. The continuous light rain makes the walls feel harsh and cold. The rock evolves as I walk. The sensation of wet concrete becomes that of a developing quagmire I must trudge through.

There’s a door ahead of me. My candlelight reflects off the surface. A large oak door held together by thick iron latches and strips. It’s something, something different and unexpected. How do I take the change? How could it interrupt what I am so accustomed to?

I set the candle aside on the ground. Somehow, the flame never flickers. It isn’t extinguished by the mist. It’s as if the water fuels it, for the drops of water make it flare. I push on the door and it remains strong. I pull and it doesn’t move. With all my power, with everything in me, I place all the force I have on the door.

Suddenly, the massive structure budges. It moves. It shifts slightly beneath my labor. The response gives me the power to continue. I finally open the door enough to slip through. My barrier, the hindrance, is conquered. I had the power to move it.

I pick my candle up and cross the threshold to find…

The same stretch of rock. The same path ahead of me. The same candle burns in the same blue mist. That obstacle is in the past, now I must follow where I’m being led.

The steps go on and on, my journey continues, as my feet grow tired and my back starts to ache. Why can’t I travel off the ground as I did earlier? Why am I hurting so badly?

There’s a break in the floor ahead of me. A deep abyss that I can’t see into looms beneath me. A massive hole has fallen down into a fathomless pit. I see a stone upright beside it. The large rock would make a perfect place to rest. I shouldn’t sit down, but I have to. I shouldn’t procrastinate my voyage, but I have to. I’m so tired.

I sit and lean back against the wall. The pressure is off my feet. I sigh. It feels wonderful to just rest.

Then, the rock moves. The boulder I sit on leans and I don’t have the strength to react quickly enough. Suddenly, I fall through the opening into the deep cavern. My screams are unheard, my candle falls behind me. There is no floor, no ceiling, only the beautiful blue mist. I fall forever and eventually my fear becomes impatience. I’m sick of waiting for the end. I’m tired of contemplating what it must feel like or how it will happen.

But I have the mist. My Beautiful Blue Mist. You are still there, aren’t you? You are still with me when no other is. I can still feel you caress my skin and embrace my form.

Suddenly, I find the floor. The answers I sought are found. The world is finally calm as I hit the rock floor below. I see the candle fracture, the flame remains, and the last thing I feel is the beautiful blue mist.

2.

Traveling down a long, dark corridor, a broken candle inside a shattered holder creates the only light. The tiny flame sends a ghostly glow out ahead of me. I wait for what lurks beyond. The unknown lies ahead, so calming and confusing, frightening and soothing. I want to turn back and run to a haven of security, avoiding all of the softly maddening emotions. I never turn…