“Battle not with monsters lest ye become a monster; and if you gaze into the abyss the abyss gazes into you,”
– Friedrich Nietzsche-
Just having lost a battle with his demons, William—with only the moon and a fierce sea as witnesses—stared into an abyss. His head hung low, his toes no longer touching the ground, William’s body stood spiritless at the edge of a precipice. The salty mist was comforting, but the sound below imposing. For tonight, an unforgettable but unavoidable event compelled him the courage to gaze into the cold eyes of the soul.
William lived a sheltered life. He owned an isolated cabin in a wooded area of the New England coast. William’s rugged good looks matched his capacity to live a solitary and sedentary life in the woods. William experiences as an airplane pilot offered him the world. But his adventures brought him here to this isolated cabin, surrounded by evergreens, which were good for his self-imposed quarantine. Below the tree lines, around his cabin, a fecund diversity of fern, mosses, and wildflowers completed the shielding environment William sought.
Not far, judging by the booming sounds that carried to his cabin only meant that a body of water was nearby. At a short distance, you could hear the thunderous crash of waves against the rugged New England coastline. There, the ocean crashed and shattered, launching clouds of majestic mist across the remote coastline north of the Acadia National Park.
From the cabin, the view was viridescent in all directions; Mother Nature in her best dress was everywhere.
Behind the cabin, through a small clearing in the trees, the seascape and its marvelous exhibition were within view—it was like a portrait. Through the clearing, an unsophisticated trail led a sloped path to a small niche—a private little beach. There, robust rugged walls of rocks surrounded a sandy cove except for a smaller ragged wall in the middle of the water a good distance from the shore. It insulated the cove from the bruteness of the waves. The view from the top was just as spectacular, but perilous too close to the edge.
It was a small nook perfect for a refreshing swim; and if Mother Nature’s splendor was in bright disposition, it was a good spot to embellish in her warmth. It was a beautiful location carefully crafted and safeguarded by the natural world, which also complemented and broadened the privacy of the cabin.
The location was as tempestuous and unpredictable as the weather in these rugged parts of Maine. It was an assurance William considered when he purchased the parcel. He wanted his rough world to intimidate any unwelcomed company. Tonight was a good example: there was a storm coming. But, it would be later that night when the storm would hit its full stride.
William only married once; and marriage was not something he entertained any longer. William’s isolation was his remedy to cope with the deep guilt felt over the transgressions that led to his divorce. He never forgave himself for tearing apart the family he loves. As a result, William’s grown son drifted apart. His son rarely kept up with him ever since the divorce. But neither did William. A few telephone calls scarcely placed through the years was all they had. Nevertheless, William thought of him frequently, and with a great deal of love and pain. He often thought of calling, but he knew not what to say.
A person can find comfort in undisturbed solitude from the civilized world, but the will of man cannot contain life’s mischievousness from barging in in the middle of the night, in the middle of the dreariest of times, to tap you on the shoulder and say, “Guess what, it’s your turn.”
William had fallen asleep on the couch after a few beers. He did not consider himself a drinker, but he enjoyed having a couple of beers now and then. He was not a tidy man implied by the collection of cans accumulating on his coffee table. Unopened mail and several magazines also adorned the table and the floor next to the couch where he napped away his dull stupor. A few plates remained in the sink to complete his indifference to domesticity. His simplicity also extended to one picture that hung between the front door and the entrance to the hallway that led to his bedroom. The picture was of happy times. It was his family: his ex-wife, son, and…William. And just below the picture sat a small table with only keys and a lantern.
It was the middle of the night when the storm struck with intensity. It awoke William from his numb slumber. And while intense storms are common, the swiftness and intensity by which it came jolted William to take notice. The sheer rawness belted the cabin. The heavy winds knocked out the lights. He was unfazed because it’s happened before, but he startled because this storm seemed brash.
William wondered if he could go back to sleep now. But he felt parched, so he got up for a glass of water. He took a quick look out the window and shivered at the conditions. Outside, the cacophony of sounds brought on by the storm intensified. There were both distinguishable and indistinguishable sounds—some intermittent. Only the piercing sounds of raindrops and the unrefined rustling of the wind against the cabin remained constant.
After his glass of water, William headed back to his bedroom. But despite the noise from the storm, he thought he heard another sound—a different sound. It was coming from the front door. For a moment he thought it was all in his mind. But then he noticed the doorknob rattling. He wanted to think it was the wind, but the knob moved as if by human touch. Fear touched him as he backed himself against the wall next to the door. For a moment, his eyes met the picture of his family. He said sorry.
Next, the doorknob turned. The door flung wide open with the force of the wind behind it. It almost crushed William if not for the small table. The unruly winds swirled their way inside, knocking down everything it could. Outside, lightning flashed across the sky as it outlined a figure by the door. The long silhouette masked any semblance that could help William identify the perpetrator. He grabbed the first object he felt within reach. He waited. The intruder cautiously walked in. William pushed the door as far as the turbulence allowed and swung with all his might. The body fell forward with a heavy thud that was matched only by the sound of ominous thunder.
William stood above the figure as the rain and wind continued to pour into the cabin with impunity. Lightning cast intermittent shadows inside the room. He stares down at the prostrate body looking for life, looking for a face, but in the dark, he couldn’t tell. In a flash of lightning, he catches the fingers twitching as if life found its exit point. William’s own hands trembled while holding the inhospitable object he used as a weapon.
Something didn’t feel right.
In a futile attempt to remain calm, William repeatedly screamed, “Who are you!?” “What are you doing out here in the middle of the night—in the middle of a storm for crying out loud!?” “Who are you!!?”
But no reply was forthcoming. Once he came back to his senses, he realized the weapon he was holding was his lantern. He rushed to open the drawer of the small table in a desperate search for matches. In his desperation to identify the intruder, his trembling hands caused a few matches to fall to the floor. His hands were wet. He dripped a combination of sweat and rain. But all he needed was one match. As he turned, his weapon lit the body. He noticed the pool of blood coming from the head; the face hidden within permanent shadows—away from the lantern. He touched the body to confirm what seemed irresolute in the dark—and it was. Still trembling, he moved the lantern to see the face.
Everything that happened seems to suggest that an unkind side of fate deemed it so; it was an event that required introspection by the harshest of measures—a look into the abyss.
Down the path, at the end of the tree line, William stood. He deliberately placed the lantern, still doused with blood, down by his feet—he didn’t need it any longer. The rain had lessened as if by design, but the majestic display in the sky—between heaven and earth—still lit the sky. The remnants of the storm faded but seemed to hold steady for one final act. William walked to the edge. A spectral display to an unhappy ending. The storm was fading, but it remained displayed across the sky in front of him illuminating the vast ocean. It makes you wonder if the storm itself had orchestrated the series of events to its denouement.
Although everything that led to this moment resulted from a series of inconsequential events to a consequential conclusion, to William, it didn’t matter if something unnatural had a hand here. His shame and guilt demanded it was time to purge the demons from his soul.
Standing now on the edge, he took one last look at the blackness in his cove. Then to the blackness below. Scattered flashes of lightning briefly gave life to the cove. He caught a glimpse of an angry abyss. But he feared not. Instead, the darkness became a canvas to his memories. He recalled his little boy playing with toys at his feet. He remembered the occasional questions Jonah would ask that only a father could answer. And, he remembered when he was a father—but it was followed by his guilt for abandoning him. He could have been a better father he whispered. But with one swing of a lantern—he had killed any possibility of ever happening.
He took one last look back at the bloodstained lantern still lit in the background—not for hope—but as a reminder. He had come to terms with the monster within. As he fell, his only thought was for the body back in the cabin, “Please forgive me, son. Perhaps now, we can start again.”
Photo by Peter Hershey on Unsplash
