Feeding the Shadow

They say there’s an app for everything, and I even found one for self-destruction.

I was young when my friends told me about it, far too young to sense the danger. “You’ve got to see this app,” they said, and their expressions should have told me something was awry. They seemed confused, if not manic, and I think they might have recommended the app with less enthusiasm had their peers not been standing beside them. One or two might have even told me to avoid it. Within the group, however, they felt it necessary to wear confident masks. What a treacherous betrayal they fearfully inflicted on me.

I saw their strange demeanors and was instantly overcome with curiosity. Whatever they’d seen on the app must have been a bit frightening or painful, or perhaps embarrassing; but above all, I sensed that it was interesting. Still in that stage of life when boredom is the one true adversary, it was inevitable that I’d give it a try.

“Just don’t tell your parents,” they warned, and I agreed.

That first night, I stepped off the school bus and slipped in through the front door of my house with all the stealth of an assassin approaching his mark, unaware the mark was me. I shut and locked my bedroom door, threw myself onto the bed, and downloaded the app.

It seemed innocent enough at first. Half the high was knowing my parents were in the house and weren’t supposed to know what I was doing. But then I began to see strange things, and these strange things gave me strange sensations. Incredible sensations. Sensations I never thought possible. Split between strange bliss and a severe discomfort that I now call “shame,” I instantly understood why it was out of the question to mention the app to my parents. I could never risk letting them know what I was experiencing. In fact, I couldn’t tell anyone unless I knew they had the app too.

I found myself in a pleasant but uneasy stupor, and I was about to close my phone and go to sleep when something like a flea crawled out of my screen and onto my hand. It crawled rapidly up my arm and came to rest on my shoulder.

I was still working on removing the little mite when, to my surprise and dismay, it spoke to me. Not out loud, mind you. It sent thoughts directly into my mind.

“Don’t waste your time, child,” it said. “I’m with you, now.”

“I don’t want you with me,” I replied.

“You invited me. We’ll get used to each other.”

“What are you, and what do you want?” I asked, and now I was trembling.

 “I am you,” it replied to my first question, and although it looked like no more than a speck on my shoulder, I sensed that it was smiling. To my second question, it added, “And that’s all I want. You.”

I struggled to sleep that night. Something in me warned that I had just crossed a bridge into new territory and that the bridge had crumbled to dust behind me. This was territory I would never leave. Eventually, I consoled myself with the thought, now laughable, that a creature so tiny couldn’t be all that harmful.

#

The first time the creature bit me, my parents had just left for the weekend, and I found myself alone with the house all to myself. No sooner had they walked out the door than I felt something like the prick of a needle on my shoulder, noticeable but not excruciating. I thought little of it at first, but the pricks kept coming, and I eventually took off my shirt and realized the feeling was coming from the creature.

“Would you stop?” I said.

“I’m hungry.”

“Then, get off me and go eat something!” I snapped.

“You feed me,” it said flatly, as if its words were some inexorable fact that I would sooner or later have to accept. Everything it said felt that way.

I couldn’t tell if it was commanding me to feed it or if it was simply informing me that I was the one who fed it now. What I did know was that I didn’t like how the words made me feel. Trying to match its resolute tone, I said, “No,” and put my shirt back on.

But the pricks kept coming. I tried to distract myself for a while—played some video games, watched a movie, leafed through a book—but these relentless little bites were nagging at me the whole time, and eventually I had to deal with it. I called the friend who’d told me about the app in the first place.

“Did the app give you this ... like ... bug thing?” I asked. The first time I’d told my friends about my experience with the app, I hadn’t mentioned the creature—only the ecstasy. None of us had talked about the creature.

My friend hesitated. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I have one too.”

“Does it make you feed it?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said.

“How do you feed it?”

“My big brother says there are lots of ways,” he said. “But for me, the easiest is to go use the app again. Mine stops biting me when I do that.”

“Thanks,” I said. “App’s awesome, isn’t it?” I was hoping he’d disagree, and then I could be more honest with him.

“Yeah, man,” he said with a desperate laugh. “Totally awesome.”

#

From then until my late teen years, the creature and I learned to coexist in a grotesque sort of harmony. When no one was around, it bit me. I would use the app, he would stop biting me, and I would continue about my business. This rhythm became second nature.

The problem was, the creature kept growing. At first, its growth was so minor as to be unnoticeable, or at least minor enough that I convinced myself it wasn’t really happening. But the growth eventually became undeniable. For one, its bites hurt worse. They weren’t excruciating yet, but they were undoubtedly more intense. For another, the creature became harder to conceal, adding another layer to my discomfort. I had to dress and carry myself differently to conceal the creature from my family and friends.

Some of my friends were open and obvious about their creatures, not trying to conceal them at all, which had a curious effect. On the one hand, I felt that I could relax and be myself around them; on the other hand, their creatures were bigger than mine, and being around them made mine bite more. “His should not be bigger than me,” it would demand. “Feed me.” Then it would give me a nasty bite, and I would have to sneak off and feed it.

Once, I was preparing to sneak off, but a friend noticed and stopped me. “You’re still using the app?” he said, smirking as though I was missing some obvious joke.

“I ... well, yes,” I said. “I have to feed my ... you know, feed it.”

“Of course you do,” he said, laughing. “But you could feed it a lot! Check this out.” He handed me a peculiar apparatus with smoke trickling out of it and said, “Go on! Don’t wimp out. Put your mouth there. Good. Now, breathe it in. Breathe! There you go. Yeah, that’s it. See? Sick, isn’t it?”

I did, in fact, feel sick, but I don’t think that’s what he meant. “Yea-yeah,” I said, sputtering through coughs. “Sick!”

He patted my back. “Give it a second,” he said, suddenly very gentle, even brotherly, now that I’d let him hasten my destruction. “Just wait.”

When the smoke reached my mind, it flooded my senses, including my sense of self, which drowned and vanished. There was only exhilaration and euphoria, somewhat like the app, but infinitely multiplied. I slumped into a seated position, then flat on my back, grinning like an ape.

“Ye-e-a-a-h!” my friend shouted, his bliss at its apex. “You’re feeling it, now!”

I descended into sleep and dreamed of chaos.

#

I awoke the next day lying alone in the grass, the midday sun beating down on me. I sat up, rubbing my eyes, then vomited all over myself.

“Delicious,” said my creature, and when I turned to look at it, I recoiled in horror. No longer the size of an ant, it was now the size of a housecat, and I could clearly make out its shape. It was black and glistening like oil, and jutting out of its barrel-shaped core were four lanky legs with joints that bent at strange, unnatural angles—somewhat like a spider’s legs, only thicker and with clawed hands at the end. Worst of all was its face: inquisitive black eyes and a broad mouth that hung open like a piranha’s, and equally toothy. It took a couple of steps toward me, and the sight of its strange legs in motion made me shudder. Worse still, it began licking the vomit off of my shirt with its long gray tongue.

The revulsion was too much for me. I stumbled to my feet and shrieked, “Get away from me!”

It looked up at me, studying my face with its dull black eyes, apparently unfazed. “There is no getting away from me,” it remarked, mouth never moving but its words blaring clearly in my mind. “I told you that. You should inhale more of that smoke. I liked it.”

As though to punctuate his request, he sprang forward, quick as a serpent, and sank his teeth into my ankle. Pain exploded up my leg, and I howled and tried to beat the creature off of me. It did release me, but on its own initiative; and as it sat back, it raised one of its strange legs and wiped my blood off its mouth. Even after it released me, the bite smarted and throbbed like a bee sting, and I wondered if it had injected me with some kind of venom.

“I just woke up!” I shouted. “Give me a little time before you make me serve you.”

“You always serve me,” it said, crawling up my leg and torso before coming to rest on my back. Two of its hands grasped my shoulders near the neck, and the other two encircled my waist. “You are me. You can feed me a little now, but I will need more soon. I’m bigger now.”

I used the app to put the creature off, then headed home. As I walked through the front door, my mother took one look at me and broke down crying. “I knew it,” she said. “You were out with—with them again. What have you done?”

Her tears, I realized, were the kind that can only come from firsthand experience, and this got me thinking. “Do you have ...” I began to say, but I grew nervous. What if I was reading her wrong and she didn’t have a creature? What if the discovery of my creature disgusted her?

“If you tell her,” my creature said, “I will bite you like you’ve never been bitten. You’ll beg for death.”

“Have what?” she snapped, hands on her hips and a scowl on her face.

“Never mind,” I said, pushing past her and starting for my room. “I’m sick. I can’t go to school today.”

“I bet you are,” she muttered bitterly as I retreated.

#

After a few more smoking incidents, my parents sent me to stay with Pops, my grandfather, for a few days. His lonely little shack lay deep within acres of forests, fields, ponds, and creeks. A wake of dust billowed behind us as we navigated the bumps and potholes of the dirt road to his house. As the house materialized from the trees, I saw Pops in faded overalls lumbering across the property with bits of hay sprinkled on his clothes and snow-white hair, just returned from feeding the cows.

Before we got out of the car, my dad turned to me and raised a finger in my face. “If you give Pops any trouble, I will make your life hell when you get back. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” I said, trying not to roll my eyes. Pops was half blind, and you had to shout for him to hear anything you said. Even if I did cause trouble, Pops wouldn’t know it. He looked like any second he could trip and fall over and never get back up. I expected my days with Pops to be spent eating candy and ice cream and watching tv.

“Hey buddy!” said Pops with a warm smile as I stepped out of the vehicle. He bent down and wrapped me in a hug. His musky, sour smell overpowered me and drove me to end the hug as rapidly as propriety would allow.

“Hi, Pops,” I said.

“Thank you so much for doing this,” said Dad, hugging Pops. “We don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Who ever does?” said Pops, clapping Dad on the shoulder and giving him a shake. “We’ll figure something out!”

I thought that sounded a bit ominous, but I trusted that whatever Pops had in mind, it couldn’t be all that bad.

The first night passed much as expected. I watched a movie, ate a bowl of sweets, and used the app after Pops fell asleep.

But my creature seemed agitated. “Maybe you should steal from him,” it said, biting me. I yelped a bit, but I was a little more used to the new level of pain now and could still think straight even after these more brutal bites. The first bout of smoking had given the creature drastic growth, but after that, it seemed to have plateaued. “If you steal from him, you can get more money and more smoke,” it pressed, then bit me again.

“Shut up,” I said, trying to sleep.

It bit me again.

I sat up and snarled, “My Pops has never been anything but good to me, and I am not stealing from him!” I lashed out and slapped the creature across its hideous face, and I thought I saw little flecks like sparks of gold fall from the point of impact. “Now, shut up and leave me alone!”

Strangely, the creature did what I said, and I slept peacefully that night for the first time in ages.

#

Pops asked me to help around the farm the next day. Feeding the cows, weeding the vegetable garden, cutting the grass, plucking a watermelon and hauling it into the house, retrieving fresh eggs from the hen house, and on and on. Even seeing it firsthand, it was hard to believe such a frail old man could manage so much every day without any help, but he never seemed to stop. Slowly, carefully, deliberately, like Aesop’s tortoise, he went on with his work.

I was so occupied that it wasn’t until the end of the day, when I threw my exhausted body down on the sofa, that I realized I hadn’t given a single thought to my creature all day. There had been no bites, no shame, no debate—there was only the work, and I found that I had even enjoyed myself. The work wasn’t exciting or anything, but I felt as though I had done something hard, not to mention something useful to someone other than myself. I felt like an adult, and it was a good feeling.

Pops laughed when he saw me sprawled on the sofa. “Don’t tell me you’re tired, boy!” he said. “We still got to cut the ‘melon!”

I sat up, nodding. “Anything after that?”

“Of course there’s something after that!” he bellowed, looking suddenly stern.

“Wh-what’s that?” I stammered.

He burst into hearty laughter. “We got to eat it!”

A few minutes later, as we sat down to eat, Pops finally mentioned the real reason I was there. “I hear your parents is having trouble with ye,” he said.

My creature spoke for the first time all day. “You had better not say a word about me.”

I gave a nervous laugh. “They’re just suspicious of everything I do. It’s nothing.”

Pops studied my face, and beneath the physical age of his worn and hazy eyes, there seemed to glow an eternal youth that perceived far more than even the keenest eyes could see. “You have a creature, don’t you? One that bites you?”

I became light-headed. How could he know that ... unless?

“Do you have one?” I asked.

“I do,” he said. “See?” He pulled up his sleeve and showed me a beetle-sized creature. “There—it just bit me, the little bastard.” He rolled his sleeve back up.

“Oh,” I said, staring at the floor. Old as Pops was, his creature was so small, and mine was already so big. I realized that I might already be too far gone.

“Watn’t always so small,” Pops offered. “It was nearly bigger’n me, and I was nearly dead before I learned the secret.”

My heart leaped with hope, and my creature bit me harder than ever. I grimaced under the agony, but I had to know. “What secret?”

Pops leaned forward and gripped my smooth little hands in his old leathery ones. “Y’ain’t gonna beat it alone,” he said earnestly. “Don’t let it get you alone. It wants you alone ‘cause you can’t fight it alone. You need help, boy. We all do.”

“But you’re all alone out here,” I said.

He replied with all the wistfulness of one remembering his fondest memories. “I suppose,” he said slowly. “50 years ago, it was just me an’ my Frances. Then it was me an’ my Frances an’ all the little’uns. Then it was just me an’ my Frances again.” He sighed deeply, and sorrow crinkled his brow. “An’ now it’s just me.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean—”

“Well, sort of,” he broke in, ignoring my apology. “I ain’t never alone. Not really. An’ neither should you be. Promise me you’ll get help, son. Can you promise me that?”

Unlike my parents, he spoke with as much concern as severity. It was impossible not to see that he loved me, and that made all the difference.

“I’ll get help,” I said. “I promise.”

“Atta boy. Now, finish your plate. You need to put some meat on them bones!”

As I lay awake in bed that night, I reflected on his words and wondered who might be able to help me.

#

Pops died not too long after that visit, but I took his words to heart and searched for help. The first place I tried was a church. Some insisted that church was the only place to get help in battling creatures such as mine, but I’d hardly walked from one end of that expansive building to the other before realizing I’d come to the wrong place.

“Do you have a creature?” I asked one churchgoer who looked especially joyful.

The churchgoer gaped at me for a moment, aghast, then winced as though bitten. “No,” he said, laughing nervously. “Of course I don’t. That’s why we’re here! We’ve been saved!”

I huffed skeptically and waded through the smiling faces, all looking as though their smiles had been painted on by a bad artist. A group of scowling faces in the corner caught my attention, and I approached them. “Do you have creatures?” I said.

They all raised their noses and scowled down at me. “No, but you do. I see it there, hiding under your shirt. Fight the vile thing, or it will devour you forever. You must be strong enough to do the right thing, no matter what. It’s hard work. It hurts. Do it anyway. Be strong and fight it—or die.”

“You killed your creatures?” I said, brightening and feeling more hopeful than I had felt in years. “How? How did you do it?”

The leader of the scowling people raised his nose just a little higher. “I killed it because I am stronger than it. That’s the only way to kill one.”

Nodding, I was about to turn and leave when I noticed, towering over the scowling people, a cluster of the most gigantic creatures I had ever seen. “Uh,” I stammered, pointing. “I think you still have creatur—”

“Shut your mouth!” said another scowling face before I could even finish my sentence. “Deal with your creature before you claim to know anything about mine. Mine is dead, and a judgmental little worm like you will not convince me otherwise. I have not been bitten in years. Go away, and come back when you can say the same.”

“O-ok,” I stammered, and that was the end of my churchgoing. I was out the door before their on-stage ceremony even began.

#

In my early twenties, I stumbled upon a middle-aged woman in loose clothing sitting cross-legged on a mat. A creature at least as large as her was crouched beside her. She smiled as I approached, and when she spoke, she sounded very tranquil and wise. “You are here because you are beset by suffering, not merely of the body but of the soul.”

“Yes,” I said, intrigued by her apt diagnosis.

“You must love yourself,” she declared, prescription offered immediately.

“It’s not that I don’t love myself,” I said, hesitating. “It’s this creature.”

“This creature?” she said, still sounding very sagely. “Is this creature not a part of you?”

I stood in silence for some time, unsure of how to answer the question. I thought back to the few times the creature had spoken on the subject. “I am you,” it had said on the first day. And after the drugs, it said, “You are me.”

Could it be? I wondered. Am I one and the same with this monster?

“You are puzzled,” said the guru with a bright smile. “It takes time to love yourself—all of yourself. To hate your creature is to hate yourself. You must, without judgment, see the creature for what it is—a part of you. You must love yourself, and you must love it, or else you will never be happy and healthy.”

The woman rose and began a graceful sort of ritualistic dance, swinging in harmony with her creature, both looking happy—though her happiness looked innocent, whereas the creature’s looked ominous. I found my stomach churning to see the graceful and the ghastly prancing around like tragic lovers in a musical.

“You must follow your inner light,” said the guru when she returned to her seat. “Only in following your inner light will you find the harmony you’ve been searching for.”

I hadn’t been searching for harmony; I’d been searching for ways to get rid of my creature. But the guru did seem rather tranquil and confident, so maybe she knew something I didn’t.

“Thank you,” I said, and then—because of the eerie calm and loose clothing, I suppose—I bowed.

“Be well,” she said, pressing her palms together and returning the bow.

I left feeling as though I’d been told the grand secret of the universe. All that was left was to try and put it into practice. Could I learn to love myself and even my creature? Would it help?

#

It was during this pursuit of self-love that I met Zoe. Loving myself was good and well, but making love was better. To enjoy such things, I needed a partner, which unfortunately required me to socialize. One silver lining was that any time I spent the night out drinking and fishing for partners, my creature typically left me alone. Sitting alone at the bar that night, I found myself dazzled by the caramel skin, long braids, and full pink lips of the girl in the dark blue dress who sat across from me. She looked fit, fierce, and far out of my league, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her.

Then, she noticed me staring. I tried to avert my gaze, but it was too late. She was already approaching. “Got a one-liner for me?” she said, smirking.

I smirked back. “No. You got one for me?”

The look she gave me with those fierce, dark eyes weakened my knees. “How’s this?” she said. “Hi, I’m Zoe. Now, get up and dance with me.”

“I like it,” I said. “I’m all yours.”

That turned out to be the best night I’d ever had.

The next morning, I sat up and was about to get dressed and leave when Zoe reached out and gently grabbed my arm.

“Hey there,” I said, smiling down at her. “I thought you were asleep.”

She fixed me with an odd expression. “Are you leaving me? Already?”

My creature offered its opinion. “A divine opportunity,” it said. “She’s everything you fantasize about, and she wants you to stay. Why discard such a delicious treat?”

“I don’t have to leave,” I said, climbing back under the covers. “If you don’t want me to.”

“No,” she said, pulling me close. “I don’t.”

It turned out to be the best morning I’d ever had.

#

Zoe and I were partners now, and the dance required to make that work made the guru’s dance seem as simple as walking. My creature enjoyed the physical satisfaction in my relationship with Zoe, but there were things it didn’t like. It didn’t like if we ever alluded to marriage or children. In fact, it didn’t like when our conversations deepened to anything beyond small talk and flirtation. And it especially didn’t like when we dug deeper into our pasts. Even worse if our creatures were mentioned. When our creatures came up in our conversations, I took brutal bites, and I could tell Zoe did too.

Thus began the last dance, the great final spiral to my destruction. Because I cared for Zoe, I tried to love her as much as my creature would permit and even learned some things about her creature. Hers had first shown up when she learned to modify her appearance, tone of voice, and even friends to gain the kind of attention she wanted and avoid the kind of attention she didn’t. She’d been surprised when constructing a false self to captivate others also constructed her creature. When she was a teen and her uncle saw the signs of early womanhood and took advantage of her, the shame and desire to hide her true self drastically deepened. Her family demanded that girls like her had to be strong, could not show the slightest weakness. The world would show her no pity, so neither would her family. Zoe thus learned to grit her teeth and be what everyone expected. All along, her creature grew.

I was devastated the day I realized that Zoe’s creature and mine had both grown significantly since the beginning of our relationship. One evening after we’d been living together for a few months, I caught a glimpse of her creature, and it was much larger than it had been before. I turned, realizing I hadn’t checked in a while, and discovered that mine had grown quite a bit as well. We smoked together most nights, but I wouldn’t have expected such drastic growth, even from smoking.

“Your creature grew,” I mentioned to Zoe that night.

“Oh, please,” she snapped, tired after a long day at work. “Have you seen yours?”

“Have I been doing something to make it worse?” I asked, eager to keep the discussion squarely on her creature and away from mine.

“Oh, are we ready to get past all that self-love trash now? You sure you don’t want to pet yourself and your creature, and go on about how we should love each other enough to give each other space, and you just don’t have the bandwidth for toxic words right now? You’re ready to go there now?”

I threw up my hands. “What do you want from me, Zoe?”

She scoffed. “I don’t know. I have a headache. I need to go to bed.” As she was leaving, she pulled a pill bottle from her purse.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough of thos—”

The door slamming silenced me, and I slept on the couch that night.

“You’ve done nothing wrong,” my creature said after I used the app and was about to sleep. “She’s out of control. Maybe you should go spend some time with other girls. Just until Zoe treats you right. You deserve to be loved the way you are. You shouldn’t have to cater to her every need.”

But no, I loved Zoe and wouldn’t dream of cheating on her. I just had to master the dance, which went something like this: Stay intimate with Zoe, otherwise my creature would bite the fire out of me. But don’t dig too deeply into Zoe’s heart, and don’t express mine, since such vulnerability got me bitten too. Unfortunately, not only was the dance complex, but I also had to do it on a tightrope since Zoe seemed increasingly desperate to take our relationship deeper, which always got me bitten if I conceded; but when we fought, she refused intimacy, which also got me bitten. She was making this too hard, and all the while, our creatures grew. Something would have to give, and soon.

#

More miserable than I had ever been, I decided to revisit the guru and see if she could help me escape the dreadful cycle. I thought I might have misunderstood the idea of self-love and hoped she could enlighten me. Instead, I found a scraggly-bearded man with a creepy smile sitting cross-legged where the guru had sat, and behind him sat one of the largest creatures I had ever seen, second in size only to the grumpy churchgoers.

“Where’s the woman from before?” I said. “I have a question for her.”

“She followed her inner light to another plane,” he said, grinning his creepy grin.

“OK?” I said. “So, where is she?”

“As I said, she passed into another world and has begun another story. Do not mourn her passing. We must embrace death, for it is a part of life.”

This time, as I watched the man speak, I realized that he wasn’t speaking at all. His creature was using two hands to move the man’s arms and two hands to move the man’s head and mouth. The man himself could have been asleep, for all I knew.

“This one truly understands,” my creature said, and it sounded more eager than I had ever heard. “To rest, you must submit as this man has. Let me guide you.” The creature sank its teeth into the back of my leg.

“Is that all I want?” I whispered through a shaky breath. “Rest?”

My creature bit me again, harder, and I cried out in agony. “Let me guide you,” it repeated, voice deep and threatening. “Your life will be easier when I’m in control. I will take care of you, and Zoe, and everyone else. You can finally rest.”

The creature bit me again, forcing agony to the forefront of my consciousness and permitting no time to consider its words with clarity.

But I needed to think, and so I wheeled away from the guru and ran. I’d tried running before and knew my creature would remain close behind me, nipping at my heels. Still, this would buy me some time. Stores, cafes, and pedestrians rushed past as I plunged through the city, wheezing in that cool night air. I reached one of the city’s lesser-known parks, a popular haven for those who enjoyed the same smoke and pills that Zoe and I did. At the center of the park stood a stone fountain that had long ago stopped running. Filthy standing water had pooled in the bottom of the fountain, littered with trash and paraphernalia, and a handful of hooded figures stood nearby. I disregarded them and fell to my knees on the pavement.

Though I could hardly breathe, I burst into a torrent of words that seemed to churn up out of me from the deepest depths of my spirit: “Rest! This creature speaks of rest! Is it possible? I’ve known nothing but this creature and this shame and these bites since I was a child. Could there be rest? Pops told me I should get help, and I tried. But what good did it do me? Nothing helps. There is only this pain and shame.”

My creature sprang on me and sank its jagged teeth into my shoulder. Explosions of pain surged down my arm. In a frenzy, I wailed to the dark heavens, “What must I do, and why must I bear this, and where is my help? Where!”

Deeper into my shoulder, my creature’s teeth sank—slicing through muscle and grinding on bone. I collapsed, staring up into the starry night sky, and whimpered, “Is there no help? Nothing?” Even as I said it, I could feel myself giving up and my creature establishing itself as my puppeteer, just like the creepy new guru. I hoped there really would be rest in such surrender, but something in me knew that it would only be worse. I just didn’t have the strength to fight anymore.

“Hey there,” said a boy from nearby. I sat up, groaning, and saw two silhouettes approaching.

“Hey,” I said weakly, unconcerned that they might be dangerous.

“Got any money?” the second boy said.

“No.”

“Alright,” said the first boy, sneering. “Check him.”

The second boy flicked open a knife and sprang toward me. I raised my hands disarmingly and did not try to flee or fight. He found my wallet and pulled it open. “Cash and cards, bro,” he said, tossing the wallet to his partner. “There’s even a gift card to Starbucks.”

They laughed as the first boy pocketed my wallet. Then he turned and flashed a dangerous grin at me. “Shouldn’t have lied, my man,” he said, and before I realized what was happening, he withdrew a handgun. Three cracks followed, and I found myself on my back, clutching my wet, sticky, warm abdomen and coughing something bitter out of my throat. The last thing I heard before closing my eyes was the boys laughing and shouting and running away.

#

I awoke standing in a field. Around me were grass, flowers, and trees more vivid than any I had ever seen. Every blade of grass, flower petal, and leaf seemed lit from within by golden light. Though the place was impossibly bright, there was no sun that I could find. The light was simply in everything—including myself. Indeed, I realized, in a moment of profound relief, that my creature was nowhere to be seen, nor was there any pain or shame. Here, pain and shame seemed no more than a distant memory, and the memory allowed only to make my present delight that much more delightful. I knew without question that I had arrived where eagles learn to fly and stars learn how to shine. I knew without question that I was basking in the fountainhead from which all beauty flows. For the first time in all my life, I was home.

“Hey, buddy!” came the voice of Pops from nearby, and what a sight he was! Though he looked as old as I remembered, there was much more to him now. The Pops I knew before might as well have been a bad portrait drawn with crayon. This was the real Pops. He looked lively, strong, energetic, happy. Love seemed to pour out of him like streams of golden light. “You made it!”

“I guess I did,” I said, confused. “Am I dead?”

Pops’ laughter rang out with all the brightness of a spring symphony. “Do you feel dead?”

“Well ... no,” I conceded.

“Listen, child,” said Pops, growing serious. “Time is short, and there’s something I need to tell you.”

This made me nervous. “I’m listening.”

“What I need to say is, I’m sorry. I tried to explain it to you, but I didn’t know how. It was my fault. I should have known, or found a way to know. My failure caused you such pain, and I hope you can forgive me.”

“What do you mean?” I said. “What didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, I did tell you to get help,” said Pops. “But you didn’t listen carefully enough, and I didn’t speak clearly enough; and now, you’ve lost your way. I did tell you that even out there alone on the farm, I wasn’t really alone. But you didn’t know what I meant. That’s OK. I hope you can forgive me, and we’ll fix it now. See?”

Pops was pointing, but he didn’t have to. I had already seen the being approaching, a being who shone with such intensity that it would have blinded my usual eyes from miles away. The light pierced me to the core, flowing in and through me. It was like drowning, except the sensation was pure bliss and exhilaration, and how could one drown in life itself? If Pops overflowed with streams of love, this being held oceans—worlds!—light with no end, and no beginning. Once again, seeing was knowing. I knew with certainty that the light in the trees, flowers, and even Pops had been born in this being.

“What have you done with the time I gave you?” said the being, and I knew my deepest, most secret thoughts were open to its penetrating mind. The weight of the question would have crushed me had the being not spoken with such love and compassion.

I began to speak, but before I could, the being performed an act that I forever afterward struggled to explain. It opened my life to me like a novel, and in the twinkling of a star, I saw my every interaction with every person I had ever loved or failed to love. I saw me stonewalling my parents and felt my mom’s desperation firsthand as she wept and fought with my dad over what to do with their brooding teen. It was a wonder that their marriage survived me.

I saw my coldness with Zoe, and I felt the panic she felt in the moments she tried to convince herself that I loved her, that she was even worth loving. I watched her stand alone in front of the mirror, applying makeup and checking different angles of her outfit, determined to captivate me when I returned home; I watched her take a deep breath just before I came through the door, then put on a warm smile as I entered, watched her take great pains to ensure I felt comfortable and happy in the home she shared with me. Even after she worked long, difficult hours at the office, she still returned to our home and fought to make me happy, then lay awake wondering what was so wrong with her that I, like so many before, treated her well only when she satisfied my basest desires. I watched her weep and take pills to numb pain that I caused her.

Though this moment of observation took only an instant, its effect was devastating. I stood before the being of light, horrified. But where could I flee? It was myself that horrified me. Pops and the being stood before me, overflowing with love, whereas my life had been an outpouring of fear and self-interest—never love, never light. My darkness appalled me.

“Will you return?” said the being, and I sensed that I had a choice, but the being had a preference.

“What could I possibly offer but more pain and sorrow?” I said softly, full of sorrow.

“Zoe doesn’t know it, but she is pregnant with a son—your son. You’re a father, now. Zoe needs you, and your child needs you both.”

“Won’t I just make things worse for them?” Then, with a sudden realization, I shuddered. “And the creature! Must I go back to that monster? I died because it was devouring me, driving me mad. Do I have to go back to it? No, I can’t. It’s too hard. I can’t do it.”

The being listened without condemnation, and as I stood there drowning in its light, I suddenly knew.

“You’ll help me,” I said. “You’re the one who helped Pops, and you’ll help me. And Zoe.”

“Your shadows cannot survive in my light,” said the being, “and you cannot survive apart from me. You will therefore walk in my light or die with your creature. I urge you: return to Zoe, and choose life. Find others who are daily choosing life, for there are many. You are too frail to destroy your shadow, but I will always be with you. Those who know me will also help, and you will help them. What has been your pain, I will forge into power. In a little while, you may return home and stay. For now, your work is unfinished.”

“OK,” I said, dejected but willing. “I’ll go.”

Pops clapped me on the shoulder like old times. “I love you, buddy. I’m proud of you. It’s about time I returned to my lady, too.” The love in his smile as he said these words stayed with me for the rest of my life.

“I love you too,” I said, gripping his strong but gentle hand.

Then, I was descending.

#

I awoke in a small, stiff bed; though after gazing on the Author of Light, this could hardly be called “waking.” I found myself attached to various wires and monitors. Pain tore through my body, especially my abdomen; and standing on the edge of my bed, glaring down at me with angry black eyes, was my creature.

“Where did you go?” it growled, more furious than I had ever heard it. “I couldn’t find you, even in the afterlife. That’s where we have the most fun, you know. I thought I had lost you. Don’t do that again.”

“Shut up,” I said.

The creature clamped its teeth on my arm, and there came the familiar explosion of pain. “Help me!” I cried through gritted teeth, lifting my heart to the One who had promised always to be with me.

No sooner were the words out of my mouth than my hands began to glow with golden light—the same golden light I saw when I refused to steal from Pops, but there was more of it now. I raised my free arm and slammed a glowing fist down on the creature while its teeth were still buried in my arm. It yelped and sprang back, aghast.

Its eyes fell to my glowing hands then back up to my face. “You think I can’t still torment you?” it snarled. “You think I’m done with you just because you have a little help? I’ll never be done with you. You belong to me!”

“I told you to shut up.”

Wincing, the creature bitterly complied, and I perceived that my life had finally begun. It would not be easy, but it would be life.

“You’re awake!” Zoe cried, and I turned to see her spring from her chair and run to me, cheeks glistening with tears. She looked more beautiful than I had ever seen her, for I now saw the beauty in her that would grow with every passing year, the beauty that would shine that much brighter in the golden country. She would mother our children, and I would love and cherish her, and cherish the life we would build together, just the way Pops had shown me. I also knew that our creatures, like our pain, were only shadows. Light and life would soon be all that remained.

From that day on, in the light of our hope that ever dawned on the horizon, our creatures shrank more and more until the end, and the end was only the beginning.