Memento Mori - 1. Chapter 1

Time stopped.

The jagged lightning, a dazzling web of scars that severed the sky, was yoked, the terrible power within held at bay, aching to discharge their current. It set everything above and below ablaze with a harsh actinic glow.

The waves, roiling tempestuously, all spray and white crests, froze, their wrath harnessed until they were free to crash into and against each other once more.

The pouring rain paused in its torrent, heavy saturated droplets glistening, sparkling, a minefield of wet and cold waiting to resume their deluge.

The cutting wind held its breath, the dark and brooding cumulonimbi above halting in their progress, pregnant with the anticipation of raging forth to whip the sea and air into frenzy.

Suspended high above, a plane, braving the fury of the elements as it bore its passengers across the Atlantic. The fuselage glistened, droplets of water streaking, transitioning to creeping ice in the frigid air.

***

Where am I?

The last thing John remembered was an all-encompassing emptiness, neither sound nor light present in the vacuum in which he had inhabited, alone and ignorant of his self.

He took in the sight before him.

Row upon row of blue leather seats, all occupied by a greatly varied collection of people, walkways separating sides from middle, all enclosed within a plastic shell, emergency lighting vivid and vibrant orange masks dangling.

I’m on a plane.

He turned and noticed the sturdy hardened door behind him, warning signs labelling it as the entrance to the cockpit.

Correction, I’m at the front of a plane.

He spun around, taking in the multitude of faces before him, all preserved in one instant, their emotions displayed in stark reality.

To his left, a mother and child. She was facing her son, visage a mask of desperation, her pale hand clutched painfully around his. He a picture of confusion, unaware of his fate.

To his right, a Rabbi and his wife. Skullcap askew, he was bent forward in a pose of supplication; eyes closed, expression saintly, hands clasped together in prayer. She a carnival mirror image; back rigid, hands clawing at the armrests, hair in disarray, features clenched in despair.

Front and centre a trio of businessmen. See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil. Posed in rigor, hands covered orifices, lest they acknowledge the inevitable.

John started walking down the left-hand aisle, his head swivelling as he took in the myriad of faces and emotions around him.

Family; resignation.

Friends; terror.

Strangers; hope.

Why am I here?

He was approaching the midpoint of the plane when he saw the man.

Head turned towards the window, John could see only his profile, but a reflection gave clarity to his features. Dark hair, pale skin, thin lips, hard eyes. Indifference. Acceptance.

John gasped.

I know this face.

Memories flooded him, excruciating in their detail and haste.

***

Eight years old

Two boys; one light, one dark. Newly met, they played together, ball passing between them, both intent on showing their value.

One experienced momentary jealousy, kicking the ball, inexperience and envy guiding the ball into the other’s face.

Horror. Guilt. The dark ran to the light. Comforted him. Apologised. Begged.

***

Twelve years old

Best friends. Both popular, both adored by friends and family alike.

Neither could imagine being without the other.

A brief glimmer of the bond they shared, neither willing nor able to understand.

***

Fourteen years old

A heartfelt revelation, the light confessing to the dark.

The dark is overjoyed, his feelings reciprocated.

They embraced, love taking root.

***

Fifteen years old

Curiosity and love thrived, light and dark both accepting of their bond, but afraid.

They knew the consequences should their love be revealed.

Neither was ready.

They hid.

***

Sixteen years old

Caught. Exposed.

Their families could not accept the forbidden.

They held each other, they wailed, vowing never to be parted, light and dark forever entwined.

***

Seventeen years old

Betrayal.

The dark rejected the light, choosing jeering peers and poisoned family over heart.

Guilt quashed, love spurned, fears embraced.

The light despaired; family lost, friends lost, love lost…hope lost.

***

Eighteen years old

Leaves crunched underfoot.

A simple solution.

An end to misery and hate.

A sturdy branch.

A loop of rope.

The light stepped up.

Noose in hand.

The light stepped forward.

Creaking, swaying, lamenting.

***

Darkness.

***

John resurfaced from the onslaught of memories.

I remember now. Michael.

Tears streaked down his face. Anger, loss, realisation, all coursing through him.

How could you?

He wiped his face, unwilling to spare any sympathy for the man before him, the cruel boy he once knew.

He turned, intent on walking away, to forget. But once again memories rushed through him, into him.

But these were not his own.

***

Eighteen years old

The dark sought the light, to beg for forgiveness.

To start anew.

The dark found the light; twisting, turning, swinging.

Gone.

His heart tore in two.

Roars of grief shattered the heavens, hands gouging earth.

***

Nineteen years old

The dark was a shell; the boy crushed, the man he was to be ruined.

The tombstone still glossy, he laid flowers.

He collapsed, wailing in despair.

***

Twenty years old

The dark was alone, friends abandoned, family absent.

Depression they called it.

He called it justice.

***

Twenty one years old

The gravestone now lay more weatherworn, moss encroaching.

The dark cleaned, and cleaned, and cleaned.

He could never clean enough to rid himself of his shadowy stain.

***

Twenty five years old

A new beginning, they said.

An escape from the past, they said.

No escape for him.

He refused.

Still a shell, the dark was haunted by his grievous mistake.

The love he had turned aside.

The man he had lost.

He would not even try to forget.

He boarded the flight.

***

John slumped against the seat behind him as Michael’s past released him from its hold.

Fresh tears issued forth as he realised just what he had done.

How he had cut short the destiny they were to have.

Wavering hand reaching out, breath coming in short gasps, he brushed the backs of his fingers against Michael’s cheek.

I’m sorry.

***

Michael started as he realised that all sound and movement had ceased.

What the hell?

He had been staring out the window at the storm outside which had been tossing the plane all over the place. He had heard the screams of the other passengers, the calming tones of the flight crew as they tried to maintain peace.

He had not yelled, acceptance of the fact that he did not want to continue living allowing him some small relief at the events unfolding. In fact, he felt he deserved to die, the result of his youthful actions demanding it.

But now, everything was not as it should be. He brought a hand up to his cheek, the aftershocks of a tender touch still present.

He turned in his seat and froze.

John?

A torrent of emotions ran through him that he was sure he was broadcasting physically through his expressions and eyes. Shock, joy, hope, guilt, despair, anger, regret.

“John?” he asked tremulously.

***

John jerked back at seeing Michael come alive beneath his touch. He watched as he turned to look at him, his surprise evident.

He held his breath as the gamut of emotions played over Michael’s face.

“John?”

“Michael…”

He swallowed, unable to control what he was feeling, frantically scrabbling for his next words.

“I’m…I’m so sorry Michael, I’m so so sorry. I shouldn’t have left you.”

Grief overwhelmed him then, forcing his throat shut.

***

Michael felt a certain appeasement at those words, could feel the wounds gradually beginning to heal.

“I’m sorry too John. I can never forgive myself for what I did to you…for what you chose to do to yourself.”

He could feel dampness on his cheeks as sorrow and hope battled within him.

***

“You don’t need to apologise. I’ve seen what you endured after…after I left. I forgive you Michael, I forgive you with all my heart.”

Still crying, John smiled then, his spirit lifting as he could feel the old bond reforge itself.

“I love you, Michael.”

***

Light shining once more in his dark eyes, Michael smiled in return.

“I love you too, John.”

***

John dabbed at his eyes in an attempt to dry them.

“Come on, let’s get out of here. We’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

He extended his hand, an invitation for Michael to grab hold.

***

Michael gladly accepted the invitation, his hand reaching out to grasp John’s. He felt John tug slightly, an indication to pull himself out of his seat.

He was only mildly surprised that the seatbelt did not offer any resistance to his egress, before realising the significance.

He grinned.

***

Having pulled him to his feet, John embraced Michael, their heights matching once again. He had missed the feel of their bodies pressed together.

Releasing each other slowly, hands still gripped together, they started making their way down the aisle, back to the front of the plane.

“Let’s go. Together,” John said.

“Always,” replied Michael.

Once they reached the door to the cockpit, they turned towards each other.

They bowed their heads, lips meeting in soft harmony.

***

Time resumed.

The lightning flashed.

The waves tossed.

The rain poured.

The wind blew.

The plane faltered.

***

“It is with deepest regret and sympathy that we report that Flight JQ116 flying from Luton to JFK has crashed into the Atlantic.

Our thoughts and prayers go out to the families of the 212 passengers and 9 crew aboard the flight, of whom no survivors have been found.

It has been confirmed that the cause of the crash was a build-up of ice around key mechanical equipment and adverse weather conditions.”

***

Two boys; one light, one dark.

They held hands, strolling down a beflowered path, dappled sunshine lighting their way.

A burbling brook and assorted calls of colourful birds added to the peaceful nature of their surroundings.

Their love ensured they would never be alone again, light and dark forever interwoven.

MEMENTO MORI UT VIVAS