[journey] it's a heartless city

Kieran wrapped his coat tighter around him, the crisp chill of the air a stark contrast to the warmth of his apartment. Escaping the confines of his new urban life, he felt a refreshing sense of freedom. The past weeks had been a whirlwind of change, leaving his quaint village behind for the sprawling city. His parents had been pillars of support, handling the logistics of the move so he wouldn’t have to lift a finger. Their departure from his apartment, though bittersweet, had left Kieran with a newfound sense of independence, and yet, an unexpected pang of solitude crept into his heart.

Longing for a slice of nature amidst the concrete jungle, Kieran found himself gravitating towards one of the city’s parks, a decision that justified his choice of neighbourhood. He savoured the moment, drawing in a deep breath, eyes shut, as he attempted to sieve out the urban scents and embrace the fleeting natural aroma that lingered in the air.

The night had already draped its velvet cloak over the city, with the clock inching closer to midnight. The park was mostly deserted, a few souls braving the winter’s bite. This solitude was a welcome respite for Kieran; the silence was comforting, almost companion-like. He strolled leisurely, the sound of his footsteps on the pavement mingling with the soft whisper of the cold breeze, relishing the tranquillity that the night offered.

Kieran’s sense of observation had never been his strong suit. Growing up, his elder brother was his guardian, always there to shield him from trouble. Later, it felt as though he lived under a watchful gaze, others always poised to intervene before he could find himself in a dangerous situation. He didn’t need the protection; he wasn’t about to put himself at risk, not after the painful lessons etched in scars along his back.

Those scars twinged slightly in the cold, but he dismissed the discomfort, focusing instead on the rhythmic tap of his cane against the ground as he walked. The park’s serenity and natural beauty were soothing, almost reminiscent of home, if only he could fully escape the persistent urban smell and the light pollution.

A solitary bench, in the flickering glow of a streetlight, beckoned him to rest. Kieran welcomed the opportunity to ease the strain on his back, a result of his increased walking since arriving in the city. As much as he appreciated the absence of his mother’s constant vigilance, he couldn’t deny a growing sense of longing for her presence. Resolving to call her soon, he extracted his phone, holding it horizontally to capture the beauty of the park’s small lake.

Kieran, though no expert with a camera, skillfully captured the lake’s beauty in his photographs. He had plans to send a weekly message to his mother holding multiple photos, a silent affirmation: “I can do this. I can live on my own. I’m healing.” These small ventures, like a peaceful visit to the lake, which once seemed so unattainable, were now part of his new reality.

As the temperature dropped, Kieran snuggled deeper into his jacket, slipping his phone back into his pocket. Unfortunately, his chosen spot for respite proved less than ideal as the overhead light flickered unsteadily before succumbing to darkness.

With a resigned sigh, he hoisted himself up, leaning on his trusty cane for support. He scanned his surroundings briefly before making his way back to the lit path. The biting cold was bearable, but wandering in the dark, he decided, was a discomfort he could do without.

Kieran ambled along the path, his movements measured and unhurried. One hand found comfort in his pocket, while the other maintained a steady grip on his cane. A soft melody escaped his lips, a sweet love song, its lyrics whispered into the quiet of the night, blending seamlessly with the gentle rustling of leaves.

Reaching a fork in the path, Kieran paused, casting a curious glance first to the left, then to the right. The right path promised a scenic walk around the lake, a view he had grown fond of. Yet, the left path, lined with trees, offered a shelter from the brisk wind, a tempting prospect on this cold evening. After a moment’s contemplation, he decided on the left path.

The allure of a forest-y walk, coupled with the comfort of lessened wind, was an inviting choice. The well-lit trail reassured him, as he ventured into the embrace of the trees.

Under the night sky, Kieran found solace in his solitary walk, even as aches echoed in his bones, remnants of an accident he often wished had never occurred. He knew the futility of such thoughts; longing for a different past was a fruitless endeavour. He harboured no resentment towards his brother for the ill-fated adventure they had embarked on. Instead, he found himself yearning for normalcy, for days without constant pain. Yet, Kieran understood all too well that life wasn't a fairytale where one could make a wish into reality.

His path led him to a slightly opened gate, behind which lay an area marked by an old, weathered sign warning of danger and forbidding entry. Peering through, a faint smile played on his lips as memories of youthful escapades flooded in. He recalled sneaking into the property of a notoriously gruff man, whose fierce dogs would send him and his friends dashing for safety. There was a thrill in the idea of exploring beyond the gate, but practicality held him back. His current limitations meant a quick escape, if needed, was out of the question.

Caught between nostalgia and caution, Kieran’s attention was abruptly diverted by a rustling sound. Curiosity piqued, he turned towards the source of the sound, stepping cautiously in its direction. “Hello?” he called out gently.

Distracted by a peculiar sound, Kieran temporarily abandoned the forbidden path. As he moved forward, a profound silence enveloped him, deep and total. Each step he took was deliberate, a careful negotiation of the shadow-draped path under the sporadic guidance of the streetlights.

His heart began to race as he noticed a lantern in the distance, its light flickering erratically. It was a mesmerising interplay of light and dark, capturing his attention wholly. The lantern’s glow would vanish, plunging the surroundings into darkness, only to flare back to life moments later. With each cycle, his pulse quickened, a rush of adrenaline mingling with a growing sense of intrigue.

Kieran’s eyes narrowed, focusing intently on the lantern’s rhythm. He found himself unconsciously tapping his cane in sync with the light’s pattern: quick flickers, a slow and steady pulse, then rapid flashes once more. A deliberate sequence, meticulously repeating before the light extinguished for a brief interlude.

Furrowing his brow, Kieran approached the lantern pole. There, he discovered a bench, offering an unobstructed view of the lake. He hadn’t walked that far back, had he? Confusion etched into his brow as he took a step back, eyes widening. He hadn’t. He would have known if he had. Then how was he back?

Fighting against the rising tide of fear, Kieran steadied himself. He couldn’t allow his mind to spiral into chaos. Drawing a deep, calming breath, he took a seat on the bench, determined to regain his composure. He pulled out his phone, snapping a photo of the scene before him. Then, with apprehension, he opened his photo album, seeking to compare this picture with those he’d taken earlier. His fingers trembled slightly as he scrolled, searching for answers.

The first photo Kieran had captured was crisp and clear, a testament to his basic yet effective photography skills. The lake, captured in its tranquil splendour, was as he remembered it – a visual narrative frozen in time. However, as he swiped to the next photo, his brow furrowed in confusion. This image was a stark contrast – blurry and indistinct. He was certain he had been steady when he took it, his practised hands adept at capturing still moments.

The discrepancy between the two photos sent a wave of bewilderment through him. What was causing this?

Kieran’s hand instinctively rose to his hair, fingers gripping tightly in a familiar gesture meant to ground him in reality. But as the edges of panic began to blur his thoughts, the action felt futile. His eyes darted around desperately, seeking something, anything, that could anchor him against the rising tide of anxiety.

Realising the imminent threat of a full-blown panic attack, Kieran made a conscious decision to take control. He sat down abruptly, the bench a solid presence beneath him. He buried his head in his hands, an attempt to shut out the world and focus inward. Slowly, he began to count, each number a lifeline pulling him back from the brink. One, two, three... the numbers marched on.

For any other, the boundaries of the forest might blend into the realm of the unknown, but not for Kieran. He had a sixth sense, a visceral connection to the earth beneath his feet. The ache in his bones served as a compass, guiding him back when he wandered too far. His muscles, like tight cords, would strain, urging him towards the safety of home. Today’s walk was brief, a mere brush with nature, hardly enough to lose himself in the wilds. There was no logical explanation for his unerring sense of direction. It was a mystery, even to him.

As a creeping unease wrapped its cold fingers around him, Kieran felt his pulse quicken. In a desperate bid to regain control, he started counting silently, a mantra to anchor his racing thoughts. Gradually, his heartbeat returned to its regular cadence, the frantic drumming in his chest subsiding.

But then, an eerie sensation prickled at the back of his neck — the unsettling feeling of unseen eyes boring into him. He tried to dismiss it as a trick of his traumatised mind, a phantom borne from past horrors.

Compelled by an inexplicable force, he raised his gaze.

In that moment, a chilling presence infiltrated his thoughts, rooting him to the spot.

“Help us,” a voice whispered, reverberating through the corridors of his mind. Panic surged like a tidal wave, overwhelming him. Memories of that day flooded back with crippling intensity. His breath hitched, each inhale a battle, as the ghostly plea echoed. In the grip of this visceral fear, Kieran sat paralyzed, the forest around him morphing into a prison of his own mind’s making.

“No,” he whispered, his voice tinged with desperation, as he collapsed inward, drawing his knees to his chest and encircling them with quivering arms. “Get away. Find someone else. Please,” he pleaded, each word a fragile whisper carried on a breath of fear.

His mind echoed with the silent mantra, ‘Not again. I can’t do this again.’ The very thought of being puppeteered by an unseen force sent shivers down his spine.

No.

The moment the voice resonated in Kieran’s mind, a visceral shudder ran through him. He recoiled instinctively, his body tensing as if trying to coil into an impenetrable shell, desperately seeking to barricade his thoughts against the invasive presence. The voice, though seemingly benign, sent waves of icy dread down his spine. Despite their words indicating friendship, their presence, to him, was that of an enemy.

Kieran’s experience had taught him the treacherous nature of such forces.



He vividly recalled that moment, the memory etched in his senses. He could still feel the invisible tendrils of psychic energy wrapping around his consciousness, pulling him toward the cliff’s edge with an inexorable grip. His feet had moved against his will, each step a betrayal by his own body, controlled by an unseen puppeteer.

Kieran remembered the terror that had gripped him, paralysing yet sharp. He had been a mere spectator in his own body, unable to even blink as the force commanded his limbs with cruel precision. The edge had loomed, the ground crumbling slightly underfoot.

Then, the fall itself – a sensation of weightlessness followed by a jarring, brutal impact. He could still feel the shock of his back slamming against the jagged rocks, the breath knocked from his lungs, his body tumbling helplessly downwards. Each collision with the unforgiving stone was a burst of pain, a vivid imprint on his senses. The world had spun, a dizzying, chaotic whirl of sky and earth, until he lay crumpled at the base of the cliff.

Such memories made Kieran’s current struggle all the more desperate, his fear not just of the voice, but of the catastrophic control it could exert over him once again.



In the midst of the chaos, another presence was heard. Kieran strained his eyes, trying to see, but it was like trying to grasp smoke. A cold shiver of dread coursed through him, a creeping suspicion that his mind was invaded by an unseen foe.

Driven by panic and defiance, Kieran brought his fist crashing against the side of his head, a desperate attempt to dispel the phantom intruder. The sharp pain was a fleeting anchor in the storm of his mind.

“Let me go!” His voice cracked as he shouted, the words tearing from his throat. Tears streamed down his face, unbidden and unrestrained, mingling with the sweat that beaded on his brow. His breathing became ragged, each breath a laboured battle against the invisible force that sought to claim his will.

His cry echoed in the eerie silence, a raw and harrowing sound that laid bare the turmoil within him. Kieran's fists clenched and unclenched spasmodically, his whole body trembling with the effort to resist, to maintain some semblance of control.

Kieran felt as if he were locked in a relentless battle of the mind. The more desperately he tried to expel the invasive presence from his mind, the more tenaciously it clung, its psychic grip tightening like a vice. It was an invisible, yet overwhelmingly real force, wrestling against his mental barriers.Kieran screamed, his voice a raw echo of his fear. For a fleeting second, the creature’s hold wavered.

Gasping for breath, Kieran doubled over, the effort sending sharp spikes of pain up his already strained back. Tears blurred his vision, carving hot trails down his cheeks. Suddenly, a touch, light as a feather, pulled on his sleeve. He flinched in response, but did not pull back. His eyes searched the empty air, yet his skin whispered of a presence: something gentle, a soothing warmth that contradicted the cold terror.

With trembling fingers, Kieran reached into the void, his touch meeting what felt like soft fur(?). He closed his eyes tightly, imagining, willing the creature to be tangible, present. He tried telling himself he’d see it if he were to open his eyes, to validate its existence beyond his tormented mind. “Are you here?” he whispered, his voice fragile like thin ice. “Are you really here? I think I’m losing my mind,” he confessed, each word heavy with the fear of unravelling sanity.

“I’ve always feared this,” he admitted, a choked laugh morphing into a sob, a sound that resonated with deep, unresolved anxiety. “I always feared that it would come to this,” he murmured, his words tapering off into incoherence. He clung to the warmth, to the sensation of warmth under his fingers, as if it were a lifeline anchoring him.

pieleke.