She wanted to get some books out on meditation and the like, so it was a good opportunity for a run. She didn’t have much in the way of running gear, so she chose the worst tracksuit bottoms and top that she could pull out of her drawer. When she opened the door, it was raining outside. She sighed. It was times like these that she really regretted not having internet in the house. She took a backpack to put the books in and ran out before her resolve left her.
It didn’t take long until she was soaked. Initially the cold wind and rain had chilled her, but as she slapped one foot in front of the other, she gradually warmed up until she was almost grateful for the rain, as it cooled her down slightly. She was no champion runner, that was for sure. Already, her breathing was laboured and a stitch was forming in her side. She focused on her rhythm, on the next step, and the next one, and the one after that. She was jogging at the pace of a fast walk, but it felt good. When she got too tired, she stopped and walked for a bit, hands on hips. She glanced around to make sure nobody was too close, then spat rather impressively to get the metallic taste out of her mouth. Decorum could take a hike.
She continued like that, jogging, then walking, then jogging, until she came to the library; a low building that had seen better days. She stood under the concrete awning and wrung the water from her clothes as best she could before going in. She headed straight for the health and fitness section, scanning through the book titles rapidly. She didn’t want to get kicked out for dripping all over the floor, and besides, her wet clothes were rapidly cooling. She eventually chose two books; one on the basics of meditation, and one on popular psychology and developing a better mindset.
She brought her books to the front desk - holding them out from her to damage them as little as possible - and waited, shifting from one foot to the other, anxious to be off again. Amazingly the librarian - a short, brown-haired woman - didn’t so much as look up from the journal she was reading. It was as if Aisling wasn’t there, and the floor was getting wet all on its own. She cleared her throat, then again, a little bit harder, when the first time didn’t have its desired effect. The librarian raised her head, and blinked, surprised at seeing someone there. Aisling smiled apologetically and handed her books over, along with her slightly soggy card. The librarian raised her eyebrow at it, but thankfully didn’t say anything. She stamped them and handed them back.
“Back next week. Preferably dry, all things being considered.”
Aisling nodded quickly, stowed the books in her bag, and set off again.
The way back was worse. She was heavier because of her wet clothes, and tired to boot. But still, she pushed on, walking more and more, but jogging where she could. On her way back she passed another runner, resplendent in Lycra, who winked at her as she passed. At least her red cheeks could be taken for exertion. What he’d been wearing looked much more comfortable that what she had, so she vowed to save up enough to buy a set of her own. At the very least she wouldn’t look like a drowned cat.
When she got home, she pulled her sodden clothes off with difficulty and dumped them in the hamper beside the washing machine. She then stretched her tired muscles, her legs protesting at their treatment of late. After that, she took a long shower, the drumming of the water relaxing her back and shoulders. She concentrated on the heat of the water, letting it infuse her to her very extremities. When she was done, her hands were pruned and her skin was shiny. She was still tired, but it was the tiredness that came with hard work. There was a pride in that sort of tiredness.
For the rest of the day, she engrossed herself in the two books, reading curled up on the sofa in the living room. She was halfway through them when she decided to make dinner. Already the stiffness was settling into her body, and she hobbled around the kitchen. Dinner was a potato salad, heated in the microwave. She ate, cleaned up, then headed off to bed early. As she was snuggling under the quilt, waiting for her body heat to warm it, she reflected that this was the first time in a long time that she wasn’t scared to go to sleep.
Now she had a purpose.
She entered the dream world to a beautiful day. No, she couldn’t keep calling it that when she wasn’t technically dreaming. Limbo. It’s called Limbo.
She closed her eyes, and thought of her father, of being there beside him. She hadn’t quite figured out this part yet. Was it the desire that moved her, or just the act of thinking about someone? Whichever it was, when she opened her eyes, she was in front of the tree that seemed to hold the world together. Her father was sitting cross-legged amongst the roots, his eyes closed and his back against the bole of the tree. Underneath, the ground buzzed as power flowed to and fro. He opened his eyes as she approached.
“You’re looking better!”
“I slept,” she replied simply. “And I’ve started doing what you said, about taking care of myself. I’ll be in a world of hurt for it tomorrow, but I’ve started exercising.”
Her father laughed; an unabashed, full laugh. She hadn’t heard him do that in years. It would have been before he’d left, when times were still good. The memory tinged her smile with sadness.
“Are you ready to start?”
She nodded. “Let’s do this.”
“All right!” He stood and stretched. “I see you’re getting better at moving around here. You should have no problem catching me, so…” And just like the first time she’d seen him after so long away, he was gone.
9
“Wait, what?” she cried into the empty air. There was neither sign nor sound of him.
Dammit.
She tried to think. She hadn’t known where he was the other times she’d gone looking for him either, so maybe she could just jump. Aisling closed her eyes, concentrating. Did she feel a sensation of moving? She opened her eyes.
She was still at the tree.
Dammit, dammit, dammit!
She tried again. Nothing. Again. Nothing. She grew frustrated with herself. How was this so difficult? She’d done it before, when she’d no idea what she was doing. That said, she still had no idea, but she’d done it twice before. Experience had to count for something. She squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated harder, to the point where she saw spots in front of her eyes. She opened them. If anything, she was closer to the tree.
She was about to let fly with an almighty stream of curses, when she heard her father laughing. From above her. She looked up. He was sitting in the lower boughs, no doubt having the time of his life watching her fail.
“Not bad!” he shouted down. He leaned over and fell off the branch. The retort that she’d been about to shout up at him froze in her throat.
He stopped a couple of feet off the ground, hovering in mid-air as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Bet you didn’t know we could do that.” He winked at her.
“How…wait, what…”
“You can do it too, if you believe you can.”
She tried. Nothing happened. Sure, I can fly, if I believe I can. All I need to do is just ignore years of evidence otherwise.
“This is not the real world,” her father said. “The rules aren’t the same. Here, it’s all about what you have up top.” He tapped the side of his head. “Now, try again.”
She breathed in, as deep as she could, held it for a few seconds, then slowly let it out. It was something that she’d learned from her books this evening. When she felt calm and relaxed, she focused down on the ground beneath her feet. The rules are different here. She imagined herself lighter, weight flowing up and off of her. She imagined the air under her palms being more solid, so that she could push against it, lift herself with it. She imagined the ground pulling away from her, so that she was just standing on nothing. She promptly fell over.
“What the…?”
Her father was laughing again. Grabbing her hands, he pulled her up. “You were actually off the ground there for a second or two. But you have to work on your balance.”
Her delight was tinged with disappointment; she hadn’t felt any
thing.
“Don’t worry,” her father said, rubbing her cheek. “With practise you’ll be soaring around like no-one’s business.” He stepped back, and with a hop and a push as if he was swimming, he was off, disappearing into the branches above.
She craned her neck, jealous. She couldn’t see him anymore.
“Where am I?” The voice came from everywhere and nowhere. “Concentrate. Where am I?”
She frowned and went through her breathing exercise again. She closed her eyes, and…extended…her awareness. She could think of no other way to describe it. She could sense the tree beside her, power emanating from it. She felt the sun, the wind, the grass, the - wait, was that something? It felt like the hint of a presence, the echo of a heartbeat. She focused in on it. There was something in it that reminded her of her father; a memory, a notion. It might just have been because he was the only person around - the normal inhabitants of Limbo seemed to shun the tree - but, without turning, she stuck an arm out above and behind her.
“There.”
Her father floated to the ground. “Very good.” Perhaps he hadn’t expected her to succeed. “Everybody here has an aura, a thread, as it were. Once you know it, you’ll be able to follow or find them anywhere. We, however, are a little bit special. We’re the only living things here; you just need to know of somebody to go where they are.”
He took her by the hand. “Come on, let’s go for a walk.”
As they walked, he showed her how to create things.
“Like I said, the rules are different here. Reality is more, malleable, shall we say? To create something, you simply need to imagine it. The more detail, the better.” He held his hand out, and a giant wild rose grew from nothing. He sent it spinning through the air. “The more an object is likely to exist here, the easier is it to create it. If you try to go against the nature of things, it’ll resist. You can still make them, but they’ll be fragile, and trying to maintain it can put too much strain on you.”
She thought back to when she was being chased by the Shades, to the walls that she thrown in their path, and how they’d crumbled at the end. She remembered the strain of trying to hold the glass case which had been her final defence. If she’d pushed herself, would her mind have snapped? She shuddered at the thought.
They walked on, competing against each other to create the most outlandish flower, laughing all the time.
They eventually came to the ring of trees and bushes that separated the world tree from the rest of Limbo.
“Shall we do a meet and greet?” her father asked.
She was never the most comfortable in social situations, but she didn’t want to say so in front of her father, so she contented herself with nodding.
As they broke through, she froze at the sight of Shades, perpetually feeding on their victims. Her father had no such qualms, and strode on. The Shades nearest broke off and retreated; the people they were feeding on immediately brightening. Unable to see the beasts feeding on them, or understand what was happening to them, they would just know that they felt happy when a Shepherd walked by. Most wouldn’t even know what a Shepherd was, come to think of it, only that they would feel something special about her father and herself. The thought made her sad. She hurried to catch up.
“Why don’t you destroy the Shades? They’ll just continue tormenting these people as soon as we’re gone.”
Her father winced. “I would very much like to, believe me. But making something not exist is harder than bringing it to life. I’d probably be able to take quite a lot of them before the effort would be too much for me, but my energy is better spent elsewhere. There’s always more of them, no matter how many you destroy. At least we can give the people a bit of peace.”
They walked along, stopping a moment or two with each person. At times, Aisling had no idea what they were saying. A lot of the times it was because they were speaking another language. Limbo didn’t seem to have any geographical barriers to it, though her father had apparently turned into a polyglot in the intervening years, as he responded in kind. Other times it was because of the damage caused by the Shades. They would appear forgetful, or confused, or if it was too severe, they would simply whisper unintelligibly. Those last ones she hated to look at; they were blurred and ill defined, at times transparent, every movement seeming to cast off more of themselves. They were fraying.
Nothing seemed to perturb her father though. He spent time with each one, listening to their stories, a word here, a touch there. He left each one better than before.
“What can you tell me about each one,” he asked, on a rare moment alone.
“What do you mean?”
“One of the things you need to be able to do, is know when it’s someone’s time to go. As you get more experienced, you’ll be able to tell the day, the hour, the minute, but now you should at least be able to say if it’s before, after, or missed.”
Aisling nodded and paid more attention as they continued on. After a few, she started to pick up on it. Again, it was more a sensation, rather than anything definitive, but she became convinced that it was there. Those whose times hadn’t come yet were rare, but she began to tell them apart from a sense of anticipation that seemed to come from them. For those who had missed their time, she got the feeling that they were lost, as if they’d been driving along a straight road and had missed their turn. They were by far the most common, bringing to mind her father’s comment that there was never enough Shepherds for the work before them. The last were the people that had chosen not to pass through the door. She sensed loss from them, an opportunity definitively closed. Perhaps they were regretful. Aisling wanted to help them, knowing that here, all they had in front of them was to be slowly stripped and devoured without ever comprehending what was happening.
There had to be some way.
10
She didn’t notice the passage of time - her father had already told her that it wasn’t quite the same as the real world - but the sun was turning the sky a flaming red when her father finally turned to her.
“You did good today, kiddo, but I think it’s time for you to get some proper sleep now. You’re looking a little peaked.”
She nodded. Though she didn’t feel tired, she was experiencing a sort of mental strain. Still, she hesitated, head down, fidgeting. Since her father had reappeared in her life, she had many burning questions, but right now, with him standing in front of her, she didn’t know how to broach the subject.
“Something the matter?”
She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the worst possible response. But she needed to know.
“Why did you leave?”
She tried to look him in the eyes as she said it, but perhaps it was the fear of rejection worming its way into her thoughts, for the best she could do was brief contact before flitting away. A lump formed in her throat and it was suddenly very hard to not cry. “I mean…” she began, but knew that if she continued she wouldn’t be able to hold back. She wrapped her arms around herself, blinking furiously.
“Oh, Aisling,” her father said softly, and stepping closer, pulled her into a strong embrace. The pain in his voice pushed her over the edge, and a sob burst out of her lips before she could stop it. And once started, all the built-up emotions came out. She buried her head in his chest and he brushed her hair with one hand, and whispered soothing words in her ear. She held onto him and cried herself raw. Eventually, feeling drained, she was able to control herself.
Her father lifted her chin and wiped away her tears with a thumb. “I never wanted to leave. I hope you understand that. You and your mother still mean the world to me. The problem is in the nature of the work that we do. When you become a Shepherd, you sort of…fade from the world. You’re still there, but you’re like a passenger along for the ride.
“People will pass you by and not notice you. Friends will move on. The stronger the initial relationship, the longer it will take, but eventually even the strongest memories of you will fa
de.
“If I had’ve stayed, I’d just be a stranger living with you, except one that you wouldn’t pay any attention to. It’d start by you forgetting my name, or that I was in the room. After a while, it’d be like I was never even there. I chose to leave before that happened. Perhaps it wasn’t the best choice, and I hate that I’ve hurt you both, but better a painful memory than none at all. Do you understand?”
She thought she did, thinking back to when the librarian ignored her earlier. She nodded brokenly, not quite trusting her voice yet.
“We get what we need as we need it. If you’re hungry, you sit down at a restaurant and you’ll be served. If you’re tired, you can walk into a hotel and you’ll be given a room. And no-one will ever remember having done it. You’ll never need money, or a credit card, or an ID, or any of that. You won’t officially exist, and that’s the way it has to be. Somebody looking at us from the outside would just see someone that apparently sleeps a lot. They won’t understand.
“In essence, we become servants of the world, and the world serves our needs, but we’re not a part of it. Not in the same way as everyone else.
“And Aisling,” he took her gently by the shoulders, “sooner rather than later, you’re going to have to face the same choice I did.”
It took a moment for what he’d said to sink in. She was going to have to choose between staying with her mother and watching her forget she ever existed, or leaving her. Leave her mother. Who’d already been left once, without explanation.
“I…I can’t… just, just…” She started crying again.
“Hush, child,” her father said, hugging her again. “You don’t have to choose now if you don’t want to. But you know what will happen either way. I honestly can’t say if there’s a right answer. Only you can make that choice.”
Shepherds: Awakening Page 5
