The Passage of Atlas (Fiction: Part 4)
The ending! As I said, same disclaimers, this was all just written for fun. And it was fun! But I may delete it at some point hah. I have a bunch of Bible-y posts queued up that I want to share and I don’t know if I just need a separate fiction account or something.
ANYWAY HERE IS THE LAST BIT OF MY SILLY STORY:
Atlas clutched his blankets, tempted to hide,
But knowing, of course, it would do no good
As his sister opened their bedroom door
For all her ruined pictures on the floor
Would testify against him. The door creaked
And groaned as it swung open in slow-mo
And Atlas held his breath. He could not see
Asteria behind the open door.
Silence. Stillness. He imagined her face
And waited forever for her response.
But time stood still. His sister was frozen,
And in his mind, the bedroom spun and changed.
He saw the papers sprawled across the floor
Rearrange before his eyes, edge to edge,
As black inkstains grew to reach other
And form a great black hole upon his floor.
Atlas leaned forward, atop his bunk bed,
Peering inside to find a deep, dark cave
That pulled at him with great magnetic force.
He shuddered, holding fast to the cold rail,
But the hole opened wider — then, a scream:
Asteria! The ground had swallowed her.
He hesitated, then shook off his fears
And climbed over the guardrail. Deep breath. Jump!
Down, down, he fell, into that yawning dark
As cold air whistled fast around his face.
Down, down, the black grew blacker. Far above
Their bedroom was just a pinprick of light.
Stone walls towered around him. His fall slowed,
And he alighted gently on damp earth.
“Where am I?” his voice echoed. Blind, he felt
Rocks, slick and sharp. He called: “Asteria?”
Her name sang, mocking, back at him. And then —
A rush of heat; a flash of light. “Atlas!”
Her cry echoed down the tunnel which was
So briefly lit by some quick, distant flame.
He groped and found the path. He must save her!
Ahead, he heard that low, familiar growl
That resonated in his chest. The Beast
Must dwell here in this secret home of black.
He shuddered as he thought about its strength,
Which wrapped around his whole self with such ease
And bit him as an infant — which hid ‘neath
Shadows, lines on paper, awaiting him,
Prepared to pounce when he was vulnerable.
Atlas had been so weak. He’d given up
All power to this Monster — who now struck
And brought harm to his innocent sister.
Another flash of light. Sweat beaded on
Atlas’ brow, for he grew nearer now.
He felt his way forward, not knowing what
Exactly he could do. He only knew
Asteria was caught now in the dark
He’d fought so long to shield her from. She must
Be so frightened, betrayed and all alone!
And this was all his fault. The ceiling sloped,
And soon Atlas had to crawl deeper down.
He wracked his brain in vain to find a plan.
He had no weapons; he could barely see.
What could a little boy do — for indeed,
Atlas again felt little, like the lines
That marked his lowest heights in his old house.
Atlas dragged his body forward still,
Though now the ground beneath became a stream
He thought at first was water, but it felt
Too thick and black — and when another flash
Of flame illuminated his small path,
He saw it was the ink he’d poured, which rushed
Like a great river over rocks ahead.
He heard at first that same rumbling growl
And felt the whole cave tremble and threaten
To collapse all around him — but that was
Nothing to the sound that he heard next.
For then the silence of his sister broke
And he could hear her sniffle back a sob.
This sound scared him far more than the growl,
And he longed to run backwards, but he found
The cave too narrow, the current too strong;
He must go onward, onward. Suddenly
Caught in a rush of water, Atlas fell
And splashed into a deeper chamber, where
The Black Monster he had always known lay.
Its body, long and coiled, shone against
The backdrop of its own flames, which burned bright
Onto a pile of broken twigs — the ones
Atlas had thrown down from his treetop —
Because the Beast had been waiting to show
Atlas his sister, tied up, and to show
Asteria her brother, the villain
Who had brought all this suffering on her.
They saw each other only in a glance,
However, before the great Beast unwound
Itself and spread its great black wings and hissed,
Flicking a forked tongue between razor teeth.
Atlas knew far too well the dreadful bite
Of the word spat forth like poison: “Alooooone.”
The pain of it tore through him. “Aloooone.” He
Clutched his chest. His heart was ice. The truth
Of this terrible word was agony.
He was more alone than he’d ever been —
He’d always been alone, starting from birth,
And he’d now lost his sister to the Black
Of that aloneness. Now Asteria
Would never truly be with him again.
The Dragon pounced, and Atlas hit the ground.
A fang was left embedded in his arm,
And when he pulled it out, he saw it was
The broken shell of pen. He screamed in pain
As black ink rushed out from the wound like blood.
The Dragon struck again, slicing his hands
With ultra-fine papercuts. Atlas felt
Black tears beginning to stream down his cheeks.
He reached down, attempting to get upright,
But the pain went searing through him. “Aloooone,”
The Dragon snarled, drawing back once more.
Atlas splashed, helpless, unable to rise,
Clutching only the proof of his guilt.
He thought about his sister, who he’d doomed
To feel the bitter loneliness now too.
“Asteria,” he cried through frightened tears,
As the terrible Beast tensed to strike,
And she wept. “Asteria. I’m sorry.”
Atlas’ eyes were squeezed tightly shut
As he prepared himself to face the death
Of flames and condemnation. A hot wind
Blew fiercely and the wetness went away.
Atlas felt, wrapping tight around his neck,
Some weight that did not kill him. It felt warm.
Unsteadily, he opened up his eyes
And found himself standing back in their room
Still holding in his hands the broken pen
And bleeding from a papercut. He was
Being hugged, he realized. “Asteria?”
She was crying into her brother’s neck,
Unable to speak. Atlas looked around, dazed,
But their bedroom was light, and on the floor
Lay separate, shattered inkblots — no more cave —
No more mocking “Alone” — The beast was slain!
The Darkness forever broken, though he
Had been powerless against it — now he
Felt light, light and unburdened in his chest.
“Asteria, you rescued me,” he said.
He dried her tears, and he knew, as her eyes
Peered into his, that Asteria saw.
Asteria understood all they’d faced.
She held his hand as Atlas confessed all,
And whispered “Together.” They went downstairs.
Atlas told his tale. His Father embraced
Them both; Mother cried as Sister forgave
And even helped clean up the mess he’d made
Though a constellation of ink specks stained
Their bedroom carpet, like small stars of gray,
In the shape of their family. There to stay
Forever helping Atlas find his way.
And at the end of that victorious day,
Once more, Atlas and Asteria played.
