Dark Truths
by Daniel Beadle - Monday, October 19, 2009
Stalker sits alone on a bench in front of an empty house at the end of the world. His eyes stare transfixed at the dead grass at his feet.Memories flash through Stalker’s mind as he tries to grasp the nature of his reality. He sees himself moving in to kiss Jennifer on a summer day. He sees himself kissing her as he lifts her into the air. He sees them wearing formal wear, laughing. He watches himself walk down an empty hallway. He sees himself falling to his knees, crying. He sees his SUV involved in a violent car crash. He sees himself in a field, raising his arms in despair. He imagines Jake swinging a baseball bat in a bar. He sees a hand let go of a plastic tulip. A tear rolls out of his eye as he sees himself holding a revolver to his head. He imagines himself smiling as a truck races toward him. He sees himself standing on a building ledge, leaning forward. He sees Jennifer’s face, whispering the words “I love you.”
“Do you understand it now?” asks Mr. Dark.
Stalker says nothing.
“I suppose there’s no need to lie to you anymore. In order to test the boundaries of reality, one needs to seek out the edges of the known world, and catch a glimpse at what lies beyond. Of course, this becomes much more difficult when your world is constructed on a sphere with no natural borders. By making contact with Daniel Beadle, it seems as though you’ve found the border. This is the one place where two separate realities meet.”
“Who am I?”
“You are a shard of another man. A piece of someone else’s psyche. Just like Dylan. Just like Jake. Just like the Man with Sunglasses. You are all fractions of someone else… You, specifically, are the romantic. Think of it like the inner child who dies when he finds out there’s no such thing as Santa Clause. You’re the one that harbors that pathetic notion that love exists as some sort of… deus ex machina. Some be-all, end-all solution to life’s constant barrage of misery.”
“How is a stalker the personification of romance?”
“Well, you didn’t begin as one. Where your life intersected with your creator, we called you ‘Graham.’ But how is stalking tied to romance? What was it that the Man with Sunglasses said? The only difference between being creepy and romantic is your success rate? If you were successful at reconciling with your lost love, we wouldn’t call you a stalker. We’d call you a suitor. A… hopeless romantic, with undying devotion.
“But you’ve served your purpose. You’ve pointed out the unnecessary angst and despair that accompanies a broken heart. Love comes at a price, a price far more dangerous than it should be.
“As such, you existence is no longer required.” Mr. Dark removes the glove from his right hand.
“What happens now?”
“You are going to be removed from the parent psyche, along with all the outmoded notions that you embody. …The capacity for love being chief among these. Think of it… like partial suicide.”
“And who are you?”
"I am known by many names, and by many faces. The most enduring of these... is Death." Mr. Dark reaches out to Stalker. And everything goes black.
“Would you believe me if I told you the sun would not rise tomorrow?
There would be nothing but darkness when you open your eyes tomorrow?
Would you trust me if I told you everything was a lie today?
Would you believe me if I said you were going to die today?”—The Truth
