Jack And The Fire

Deep in the core of a dull, lightless city, a man sat alone by a fire. He didn’t know how long the world had been like this, he didn’t remember what it was like before, He only knew that he woke up to this one day. From what he could remember, Just faintly in the back of his mind, the world used to be filled with other people, other faces, but after days of wandering, months of searching, there was no familiar face to see. For now, the only company he had was the fire, and a few cans of beans to dip stale crackers in.

From what he could tell, the world had been like this for centuries, at least long enough for plants to grow where there once were fields and long enough for buildings to start crumbling.

He didn’t mind it though, the lack of company, instead he embraced it, he smiled towards it with hope.

At least, that’s what he told himself. In all honesty, he would kill to see a familiar face, he would die just for even a dull sense that he wasn’t alone, and he would do anything to have a companion by his side.

But he buried these thoughts deep down, kept them hidden, because who would he even share them with?

Slowly, the man’s eyes lulled close, and he entered a dream by the warmth of the fire, another fuzzy, disorienting dream.

He never could tell what his dreams were about, most of the time they were just flashes of dull, blurry blues and greens, and sometimes, very rarely, he would hear noises, deep and distorted, mostly unrecognizable.

But tonight was different, tonight he could see a little bit clearer than before, he was in a park, at least, he thought he was, it was still too blurry to see. As he looked around him, he saw people, faces and voices blurred and distorted, and he saw blurry flowers blooming from the ground, it felt calming, it felt natural.

Slowly, the man brought his eyes back to the center of the park, there was a woman there, standing still, and as he watched her turn around, he heard her voice, still distorted, still deep, but he could still just barely understand its shocked word.

“Jack?”

Suddenly, the man snapped back awake, just as the pinks and yellows of the rising sun showed up in the sky. Slowly, he got up, kicking an empty can away from his feet as he did. He tried to prepare for the day. The man grabbed a worn, grey backpack, and began to walk down the cracked, vine covered road. Still, he couldn’t keep his mind off the dream, why did it feel so important? Who was the woman he saw?

More importantly…

Who was Jack?

Slowly, the man stopped. He had been mulling over the dream so long that he hadn’t stopped to check the time, and by the time he finally noticed, stars were already blinking into view in the sky. The man sighed, and began preparing for another lonely night.

He opened the backpack, grabbing an old, muddy lighter, and a few dry logs, and prepared a fire. He opened another compartment, and searched for a jar of beans. As he rummaged through the bag, he took a moment to look at the stars, like he did every night, and every night, he began to wonder if maybe, somewhere in the stars, there was someone else going through this hell, lost without a soul to guide them.

The man sighed, finally pulling out a can from his bag, along with a small Swiss Army knife, and prepared his dinner.

And as the man finished his meal and prepared to sleep, he found himself in another dream.

Everything was vivid, blurry like it usually was, but as he moved through the blurry mess of colors and sound, a sort of chanting echoed out from everywhere around him, silent at first, distorted and vivid like before, but the more he focused on it, the clearer the words became, a cacophony of voices, each one saying the name he had heard the night before

“Jack.”

In a sudden flash of light, the voices stopped, and the man’s mind flooded with realization, this was his name, the name he had forgotten back when everything disappeared, a faint, buzzing memory of the past now shrieking, burning in his mind.

And then, Jack snapped back awake.

Alone again with the rising sun.

Slowly, Jack got up, grabbed his backpack, and began walking again, like he did every day, his feet dragging forwards as he began the shuffle yet again.

But as Jack walked forwards, he felt a set of eyes on his back, staring daggers into his spine. At first, Jack shrugged it off, he was used to feeling paranoid, like there was someone watching him. It helped him deal with the loneliness, but as he kept moving, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something, someone was following him.

Quickly, Jack snapped around, feeling his neck spike with pain from the whiplash, but as he did, he saw nothing was behind him, nothing was watching,

Nothing was there.

And so Jack shrugged the feeling away, wandering into the remains of an old convenience store to search for supplies, squeezing himself through the broken mechanical doors. Slowly, Jack looked through the shelves, all lined with molded foods and decayed goods that creaked and groaned as the vines beneath them slowly gave way to the weight, and lights flickered on and off precariously as Jack walked through the old, derelict building, the worn tile floor cracking ever so slightly under his weight as he searched for canned goods and stale chips, his shoulder brushing against a bag of moldy bread.

But then he stopped, staring forwards at what lay in front of him, cracked and grimy, but still mostly in good condition,

It was a mirror, roots and vines grew around its base and dirt and dust layered on top of its surface, but still, Jack could see his reflection in the mirror, standing as still as he was.

It had been so long since Jack had seen himself, usually he was too focused on surviving, but now, looking at his reflection for the first time in years, Jack realized just how much this survival took a toll on him.

His skin was covered in dirt and grime so much so that if there had been any color below it, it was long covered up by now, and his blonde hair was so impossibly long,

He had a beard too, long and unkempt, stretching down to his shrunken stomach.

His old grey coat was torn and ripped, the insulation inside falling from some, and his red shirt was now a dull, worn brown, smudged with mud and riddled with holes that showed off his small, frail body, his jeans were barely kept onto his body, torn around the sleeves and held tightly by a frayed leather belt, and his Converse sneakers were so worn down that Jack could see his socks through the seams.

He looked older than he thought he would be, and there were bags under his eyes, sagging like weights on his face.

Slowly, Jack closed his eyes, turning around as he began to walk out of the store.

He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to know what he looked like, because in the end, it only served as a reminder to just how alone he was.

Later, as Jack was preparing his meal for the night, he saw it, watching in the distance. At first, he thought it was just his mind playing tricks on him.

But as the thing got closer, he began to reconsider this thought.

It was tall, with pale white skin, and an eyeless face, with long, spindly fingers. It wore an old, worn robe and walked with an old walking stick that clacked ever so gently against the pothole riddled road. Eventually, it stopped, its long, gaunt frame just inches from the fire as the thin figure stepped down, laying the walking stick in its lap before raising its hands to the fire.

Jack could feel his heart pounding, his blood felt like ice as he watched the thing, scooting away from it before stopping, but eventually, he stopped, watching the creature carefully, it was silent, unmoving, but slowly, its head turned to Jack, almost confused, before turning back to the fire.

Jack watched the creature carefully, not daring to turn his eyes from it as the night fell, but try as he might, he couldn’t stay awake, and eventually, against his will, his eyes fell shut, and Jack entered into another sleep.

This time dreamless.

This time, he only saw pitch black.

Suddenly, Jack jolted awake, his eyes bolting open as the sun rose, and as he stumbled around, forcing himself on the ground, he saw that the thing was still there, poking at the smoldering remains of the fire with the walking stick.

Slowly, it turned its head towards him, opening its mouth as its jaw popped and clicked, as if it hadn’t opened in years.

And then it began to speak, its voice raspy and broken, like an old record riddled with scratches.

“Hello, Jack.” It said, staring at him with its nonexistent eyes.

Jack felt his heart leap out of his throat as he tried to speak.

“Wha-” Jack said, stopping halfway to gag up a large piece of phlegm that had built up in his throat,

“What are you?”

He coughed, watching as the creature’s face contorted into a smile

“A survivor, Just like you are.” It replied.

“Another face cursed to wander through the nothing, cursed to wander through this hopeless abyss.”

Jack gulped. It almost hurt to hear the creature’s voice in his ears.

“You’re not real, are you?” He asked.

“You’re some kind of hallucination, aren’t you?”

The creature chuckled, a wheezing, gagging laugh that shook in Jack’s ears.

“I could say the same about you, couldn’t I, Jack?

Or maybe you really have gone crazy after all.

Maybe I’m your last attempt to stay sane!”

It said, its voice rising into a laugh.

“Oh, I kid, I kid.

I assure you, friend, I’m completely real.

I’m as real as the skin on your back, as real as you are.”

As the creature spoke, it it tapped Jack on the shoulder, and on the back with its walking staff, proving its point to the man.

Jack could feel his breath yielding in his lungs, his bones, his body, his very soul begged him to run.

And yet he stayed still.

“Well then,” Jack said.

“If you’re real, you must have a name, right?”

the creature let out another chuckle.

“Of course I have a name.” It said.

“But why would I tell you, Jack? That’s something for me to keep.

A secret between the two of us.

Now, enough stalling, you’ve got plans for today, don’t you?”

Jack seethed, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this creature knew more than it was letting on, but as much as he hated it, the creature was right. He needed more supplies if he was going to make it the next few days.

Grudgingly, he scooped up his backpack, and slung it over his shoulder, preparing for another day of walking as the creature walked behind him, smiling.

Throughout the day, Jack became less wary of the monster by his side, occasionally even starting dull conversations with the being as he searched through ruined buildings and rubble for anything that could further aid in his existence, and eventually, the sun set below the horizon, and the moon rose up into view.

Slowly, Jack prepared the fire, and pulled out a can from his bag, watching as the creature sat down, warming itself by the flames just as it did the night before.

And as Jack began to warm the can in the fire, he began to think.

Who was this creature? He wondered, almost an entire day of wandering, a day with nonstop conversation, the first conversation he had in years, and he had never been able to get the creatures name, it acted human, and despite how much it hurt to hear its voice, it almost sounded human, but it was just so clearly not.

Nobody looked like this, Jack thought.

Nobody acted like this, nobody sounded like this.

Maybe… he thought.

Maybe this WAS nobody.

No, he told himself,

No of course not.

But the creature was already looking at him, grinning maliciously, slowly walking towards Jack, and slowly speaking, its voice cruel and happy.

“You finally figured it out, Jack!” It said, chuckling as it walked through the fire, only to emerge unscathed from the flames,

But as it walked towards Jack, it began to fall apart, bit by bit as it spoke.

“Oh Jack, poor, lonely, Jack!

It took you so, so long to put the pieces together, didn’t it?

I am nothing, I am no one, I am NOBODY.

You were forgotten, Jack, cast out into a world that forgot you existed, forced to wander a land without a single soul by your side, not a single soul to speak with, and you thought anyone would care?

No, Jack.

How could anyone care about someone that, in their eyes, never existed?

Don’t you see, Jack?

Don’t you get it?

God forgot you,

Death forgot you,

The universe itself forgot you.

SHE forgot you.

I am Nobody, I am nothing.

And now, Jack.

So are you.”

And then the creature faded to dust, the cloak and staff being the only thing that remained of the thing that once stood there.

Jack sobbed, grasping desperately at the fabric, at the dust, hoping, praying that he would wake up, that he wouldn’t be alone, but no,

He was truly alone.

Truly, utterly, alone.